One Night in Vegas

by Mari Carr, Red Phoenix, Angel Payne, Sierra Cartwright, Jenna Jacob, Victoria Blue

  She had to admit, Miss Scarlet had done a spectacular job with the music and entertainment selections.

  Drawn by the pulse of primal energy in the room, Avery could no longer resist. She glanced over her shoulder to where she instinctively knew Cole was standing.

  Over the months, she’d regretted chickening out. Avery had promised herself she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  But now that they were in the same room, a familiar sense of fear snaked through her. What would she say? How would she behave? Being at a vanilla gathering eliminated options she might have at a lifestyle party.

  A waiter passed by, and she snagged a glass of champagne from his tray and downed half of it in a single swallow. Bubbles tickled, and she wrinkled her nose. When she recovered, she noticed that Cole was looking at her, as if he could see through her disguise.

  That’s not possible. He didn’t know who she was. They’d never met, never spoken. Even if they had, she was still hidden by the ornate black mask, and she’d traded in her long, light-brown hair for shoulder-length blonde with bright pink streaks.

  She continued to sip as she watched the band and performers, trying to shut out thoughts of Cole.

  But the harder she tried, the more he occupied her mind.

  Every part of her yearned for a Dom. And tonight, not just any Dom. Cole.

  So what are you going to do, girl?

  The longer she thought about it, the more adrenaline flooded her body, making her jittery.

  Eventually, she put down the unfinished drink and traced the curlicue outline of the mask, drawing in courage and reassurance from the anonymity. He could have a girlfriend or submissive at home. Even if he didn’t, he could still reject her, but since he wouldn’t know who she was, her ego would still be intact.

  But if she deliberated too much, she might miss her second chance.

  Damn it.

  Her stomach dancing with butterflies, she squared her shoulders, smoothed the front of her dress then started toward him.

  A number of guests stopped her to chat, and she smiled until she thought her make-up might crack, all the while keeping an eye on him.

  Eventually—too soon and simultaneously not soon enough—she reached him.

  For a moment, her words lodged in her throat.

  The passage of time had only made him better looking.

  She knew from Joe and Noelle that he’d been in a warzone, and his face bore the signs, from a nose that had been broken twice to a jagged, Z-shaped scar that ended just above his jugular.

  If she hadn’t been frightened before, she was now.

  “Evening.” His voice was like the finest liqueur, rich and deep with a hint of sweetness laced in the danger.

  She forced herself to pretend she didn’t know who he was and that she wasn’t a bundle of apprehension. “Glad to have you at Miss Scarlet’s birthday party.”

  “Cole Stewart.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Miss Scarlet’s great-niece.” Avery accepted his hand, and her knees buckled. Instantly, she caught herself, but she was stunned by how strong the instinct to kneel for him was. No doubt, even women who weren’t into BDSM would recognize his authority.

  His grip was as powerful as she’d expected. Shockingly, though, it wasn’t crushing, as if he knew his own strength and harnessed it.

  Her respect for him notched up.

  “I’m with Mr. Nyte,” Cole continued. “Observing.” He gave a lopsided grin that quickened her pulse. “Crashing the party.”

  “Any guest of Mr. Nyte is more than welcome.”

  “I’m with security,” he clarified.

  “Regardless.” Now that pleasantries were out of the way, she had no idea what the hell to say. Are you a Dom? I can’t help but notice how commanding you appear.

  The music stopped abruptly. With a frown, she turned to see what was happening.

  In true gentlemanly form, he steadied her by placing his hand on the bare skin of her back.

  Electricity arced up her spine to settle at the top of her neck.

  If she had this kind of reaction to his touch, what would it be like to submit?

  A spotlight hit the stage, and the band struck up a fun version of “Happy Birthday.”

  As she watched with Cole’s hand still firmly on her back, four men in tight, white clothing wheeled out a gigantic cake. The thing had numerous layers and a great, big candle on the top.

  Was this the expensive dessert that Marie had mentioned?

  Cole leaned closer, his breath warm on her ear as he asked, “Where’s Miss Scarlet?”

  “No idea,” she whispered back.

  A chorus line of women in feathers and little else began to sing as the band launched a second run-through of the song.

  When they reached the happy birthday, Miss Scarlet part, the top of the cake exploded open, and Miss Scarlet emerged.

  The crowd screamed, cheered, clapped. Avery clapped wildly. She should have suspected her great-aunt would dazzle, but Avery had never guessed she’d make such a wild entrance.

  A hundred cell phones were pulled out and pictures were snapped. The four men assisted Miss Scarlet down some stairs that were rushed onto the stage.

  As she’d been doing for more than sixty years, she commanded the room with her towering headdress and elaborate costume.

  As the song ended, she blew kisses.

  “Isn’t she fabulous?” Avery asked.

  “She is indeed.”

  Rather than leaving the stage, Miss Scarlet took a place in front of the chorus line.

  A song Avery didn’t immediately recognize began to play. The women moved aside, and a man in a top hat sauntered onto the stage.

  After a few seconds, Avery recognized the song, “I’m a Good Girl” in which the performer was anything but.

  A rope dropped from the ceiling.

  Catcalls and whistles filled the room, and Miss Scarlet beamed.

  In her glittery stilettos, she wrapped herself around the rope and made a sensual, writhing motion before turning to shake her backside at the crowd.

  Several dozen female cast members exploded onto the scene, shaking their feathered rears while men raised their eyebrows as well as their top hats.

  The full-on burlesque number rocked the room.

  Cole said something, and she had to lean in to hear him.

  “She’s amazing,” he repeated.

  “Every day she wows me,” she confessed.

  Men raced down the staircases that flanked the stage, their motions fluid and exciting. They moved into place just as Miss Scarlet pitched herself forward, face-first. As if she were flying, the men caught her and carried her toward one of the tables before letting her flow toward the floor.

  The spotlight immediately moved back to the stage. A curtain was pulled back to reveal a rocking horse the size of a stallion. A woman dressed in a corset and tulle skirt moved her hips back and forth provocatively.

  Avery watched, captivated, very much aware of the way Cole was still touching her and the heat that was flowing through her—not just from him, but from the raw sex that oozed from the cabaret show.

  “What do you think?” Cole asked against her ear.

  A tremor ran through her. This was the opening she’d wanted.

  Avery turned slightly, grateful she was incognito and could be someone she wasn’t, even if it was just for this moment. She prayed she had the guts to follow through this time.

  Chapter Two

  Cole narrowed his eyes and wondered what the hell game Avery was playing.

  No matter what she thought, how clever she’d been in not using her name and hiding behind a delicate black mask, he would know the beauty anywhere.

  Her eyes were wide and luminous, fringed by lush, gravity-defying eyelashes that made her look innocent.

  She’d cut her hair, changed the color, and added streaks of pink.

  And none of that mattered.

  Her curves were the kind that kept
a man up all night. No matter how hard she tried to disguise herself, his reaction to her was absolute. The first time he’d seen her had been about a year ago. Since they’d both attended with other people, he hadn’t spoken to her.

  At a most recent event, she had just broken up with her Dom, a man Cole liked. The man wasn’t nearly as tough with his subs as Cole was, and that gave him reason for pause. He wanted to be with women who knew how strict he was, how much he demanded.

  Her ring finger was bare, but he was curious about her necklace. It was bold, made from interlocking pieces of silver that snuggled the base of her throat. At first glance it hadn’t appeared to be a collar, though it was close enough that he couldn’t be certain. Of course, no one who wasn’t in the lifestyle would even question the choice.

  The song ended and another began, and this routine was more like something the Rockettes would perform, with high, exciting kicks and energy.

  “Are you working this evening?” she asked.

  “No.” He forced himself not to grin.

  The adorably submissive Avery shifted her weight from one foot to the other, radiating her discomfort. She was making small talk, pretending to be a good hostess, when he knew she wanted to be on her knees, his hand tangled in her hair, awaiting his command. Right now, that command would be to suck his cock.

  The burlesque show ended, and the performers received a standing ovation.

  As the stage was cleared, the band segued into a Frank Sinatra signature song, making it a bit easier to talk. A few couples wandered onto the dance floor.

  “Shall we?” he invited.

  Her mouth parted slightly, and he was tempted to kiss away her hesitation.

  Where the hell had that thought come from? Cole Stewart wasn’t a man to blur the lines between BDSM and romance. It had been years since he’d kissed a woman simply because of a tender impulse.

  He held out a hand.

  With little hesitation, she accepted. The first step, and he wondered where the hell she was heading with all of this. If it was toward a BDSM scene, he was interested.

  On the parquet dance floor, he led to the slow beat, and she followed in flawless moves. Her skin felt luxurious. No matter what he asked for with his body, she responded. Would she behave the same way in private? Suddenly, he was anxious to get her out of that dress with her hands tied behind her back.

  The tune ended.

  By unspoken accord, they moved to a small table near where Miss Scarlet stood, holding court. He noted Avery hadn’t taken the chance to make a hasty exit.

  Dare he hope the charming sub was trying to seduce him?

  A waiter passed by, and Cole plucked a glass from the tray and offered it to her.

  “Thanks.” She shook her head. “I think I’ve had enough. Thank you.”

  Though champagne, especially one colored pink, wasn’t his drink of choice, he appreciated the extraordinarily expensive taste. Nothing but the best at Mr. Nyte’s hotel. Not that Cole had expected anything different. “Tell me about your jewelry,” he invited.

  “Sorry?”

  “Your necklace.”

  Behind the mask, her eyes widened. Probably without her being aware of it, she fingered the piece.

  “Is there any special meaning to it?”

  “Something I bought myself recently at an art festival downtown.”

  “Intriguing,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “I wondered if it might show an interest in bondage.”

  “Bondage.” She dropped her hand. “Is that something you’re into, Mr. Stewart?”

  “I generally don’t discuss my personal life in a public setting.”

  “But…” she persisted. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

  He wondered if she had any idea how breathless she sounded. “So I did. And the answer is yes. Do you know anything about it?”

  She was saved from an answer when Miss Scarlet breezed over in a cloud of perfume.

  “You were marvelous,” Avery enthused.

  The woman’s smile lit the room. “And you are the only person at my party I don’t recognize.” She turned toward him.

  “Cole Stewart.”

  “Oh?” She glanced back at Avery. “My niece was asking about you.”

  “I’m working with Mr. Nyte.” He inclined his head. “I’m afraid I’m an interloper.”

  “And a handsome one at that.”

  “Miss Scarlet!” Avery reprimanded.

  “Oh, hush. Nothing he hasn’t heard a million times before.”

  “My first time from a legend,” he replied.

  “Oh, he’s a charmer.” She offered her gloved hand, and he raised it to his lips.

  “A pleasure, Miss Scarlet. Your entrance was spectacular.”

  “It was fun. And I do enjoy leaping into the arms of strong young men. I’ll be doing that for my ninetieth as well.”

  “I believe it.”

  After a few more words, her attention was claimed by admirers who’d been patiently waiting. She gave a little wave and moved off, leaving him alone again with Avery. “Where were we?” He figured he’d give her the opportunity to pursue or avoid the question he’d asked her earlier.

  “We were talking about bondage.” Despite her comment about the necklace not being a collar, she absently touched it again. Then, as if realizing that she was fidgeting, she stilled and lowered her hand. “And yes, I’m familiar with it.”

  “You’re a submissive,” he said, suddenly tiring of the niceties. Cole often worked undercover, and he was skilled at blending in. He could adapt to any environment, appear to be anyone. But a BDSM scene was the one place he was completely himself. No pretenses. For right this moment, he was okay with the fact that she wanted to shield her identity, but that didn’t mean he’d put up with any further prevarication. If she wanted the play, he wanted to get on with it. “And you know I’m a Dom.”

  “I…” She licked her upper lip.

  “Admit it.” He leaned in a little closer to her, not enough to intimidate her but enough to let her know that, to him, there were no other people in the room. “Something in you responds to me intuitively, female to male. You may want to deny what I’m saying, but you can’t. You won’t.”

  Avery flicked a glance at the floor before obviously catching herself and looking back up at him. It was enough to let him know she was a true submissive, one well suited to his tastes.

  “What color is your thong?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  She lifted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray, but Cole took it from her.

  “If you’d like this conversation to go any further, you’re not drinking anything other than soft drinks or water. Your choice.”

  “Sparkling water,” she said.

  “Lime?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  He ordered her drink at the bar, then returned to her. “I’m waiting for your answer.”

  “How do you know I’m wearing a thong?”

  “No panty lines. And you don’t strike me as a woman who would skip her foundation garments unless her Dom told her to.” He grinned. “How’d I do?”

  “Black.”

  “Lacy.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes.”

  “Take it off.”

  She blinked.

  “You can do it here, or you may excuse yourself to the ladies’ room.”

  “I didn’t bring a purse down with me. So I don’t have anywhere to stash my undies.”

  “Do you need me to strategize this with you? Or are you going to do as you’re told?”

  Avery hesitated for a moment, opening then closing her mouth.

  “I’ll go with you,” he decided.

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “On the contrary.”

  He saw the question in her gaze then he noticed the way she glanced around the ballroom, seeking out her great-aunt.

  When she saw that Miss Scarlet was occupied, A
very acquiesced.

  He followed her to the restrooms and snagged her wrist, pulled her into the family restroom.

  He locked the door behind them. She gasped but didn’t protest. Then he faced her. “What’s your safe word?”

  “Red, and I use the word slow, rather than yellow.”

  “There are condoms in my room. If we get that far, we’ll be practicing safe sex.”

  As he expected, she nodded.

  Now, now, they were speaking the same language.

  Without him needing to prompt her, she removed her thong. A deep red stained her cheeks when she held it out for him.

  “Put it in your mouth,” he said, rather than accepting it.

  He felt her pulse of fear-laced excitement.

  With any other woman, he’d go slower. But she knew him, his reputation. And he knew she craved this. “When I give you an order, sub”—he took a step toward her—“I will be obeyed.”

  She shivered.

  “Unless you need to use a safe word, your acceptable replies are yes, Sir, or yes, Master Cole. Hesitations will be dealt with appropriately. Questions?”

  She stuffed her panties into her mouth.

  “Spread-eagle, hands on the wall.”

  Slowly she pivoted and followed his instructions.

  “Is your pussy wet?”

  He heard her mumbled, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do you like it when you’re told what to do? When to do it? Do you like being a naughty girl, wondering who saw you walk in here? Are you anxious about what might happen?” He came up behind her, close enough that he inhaled the sharp and unmistakable scent of her arousal. “You should be.”

  She spread her fingers farther apart.

  “Am I going to see if you’re wet? And if I do, am I going to be disappointed?” With the back of his hand, he brushed hair away from her neck. “What will I do if you’re not properly responsive? Pinch your thigh?” Through the dress, he did.

  Her gasp was instantaneous.

  “Or am I going to lift your dress and spank your ass just because I want to?”

  She whimpered, the sound soft everything he wanted.

  “Perhaps I’ll just put one finger in your pussy and another in your ass.”

  The little sub squirmed.

  Damn. If he’d known how responsive she was, he wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to approach her in Colorado. “I’m not known to be nice. You should understand that.”