Chapter One
Dalton Carrington let his brand new Valkyrie Rune rumble beneath him as his gaze took in the hundred-year-old red brick mansion. Incognito. Not what he'd pictured in his mind. Definitely not what his club had looked like in New York.
He hit the kill switch on the motorcycle and slipped off his helmet. In the darkness of the night, he could hear the surf rolling against the nearby shore.
Damn, he loved Florida. Loved the sun, air, and ocean. His new beachfront cottage was perfect and afforded him some freedoms that living in a large city didn't. He ran his hand down the sleek contour of the motorcycle's gas tank. New York would always be his home, but--he breathed in the tangy scent of the sea air--this wasn't a bad second.
He swung his leg over the motorcycle and rubbed his thigh. He'd been riding most of the day, stopping here and there to take in the sights, sounds, and feel of the small coastal towns. He touched the bridge of his slightly sunburned nose.
"Note to self," he murmured as he pulled the Incognito special invitation from the back pocket of his leather pants. "Buy sunscreen."
As he sauntered up the cobblestone walk toward the front door of Incognito, he noted the cars and SUVs in the nearly full lot. Jaguar, Mercedes, Lexus. He even spotted a uniformed valet round the corner and, with a jaunty toss of car keys, take up his post near the front door. This establishment was definitely upscale. And busy.
When he neared the door and heard muffled sounds of music from beyond, he glanced at the invitation again. Embossed in gold, the size of a business card, it simply said, Invitation to attend. On the reverse side was the logo for Incognito, also gold embossed, and a line that read, Unleash your darkest desires. He'd needed to search long and hard to find the club's exact location, finally obtaining it from another club owner two towns over.
Dalton made a face as he remembered the little hole-in-the-wall fetish club. What a pit it had been. Where the dregs of society met to play out their fantasies with no rules or regulations in place. Dalton had beaten a hasty retreat from there.
He reached for the brass knob on the door. This place was much more his style. Pushing the door open, he stepped onto the black marble tiles of an unusual foyer. Lit only by dancing flames within wall sconces, the space reflected an aura of mystery. Of excited intrigue for what lay through the next portal.
From a darkened corner to his left, a willowy figure clad entirely in black latex approached. Even before he saw the face, his body zinged with anticipation.
"What have we here?" The voice was husky and purely feminine.
Five-inch fuck-me heels of thigh-high boots clicked on the marble. She came into the light, and his breath lodged in his throat.
Dark, exotic gypsy eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned. So, she did remember him.
Good. He damn sure remembered her.
She tightened her full, red lips. The same luscious pair he'd imagined wrapped around his thrusting cock during more than one late-night erotic dream. She slapped a riding crop against her thigh, and those black eyes narrowed.
"Doctor Carrington." Her tone was as cool as a glacier, yet smooth as twenty-year-old scotch.
"Mistress Katriona."
She gave a slight nod. "To what do I owe this honor?"
Though the words were welcoming, her tone left no room for misinterpretation of her meaning. She wanted him gone.
His lips kicked up in a half grin. He couldn't blame her. At the International Owner's Conference, where they'd met last fall, they'd had quite a debate.
"I believe you are the reason I'm here."
Her mouth opened just a bit, and her knuckles whitened with a tighter grip on the riding crop. She appeared poised to strike. Or bolt.
"I can't imagine anything that would warrant you seeking me out, especially this far south of your usual haunts." One finely arched brow rose in mocking challenge.
"Actually, I live here now. Closed on a piece of property just last week." Her frozen expression didn't disappoint him. A dominatrix of her caliber should easily be able to shield her thoughts. She'd done a rather nice job of it so far, at least after recovering from the initial surprise.
"And you what? Expect me to throw you a house-warming party? Not everyone in the South is that hospitable, Doctor."
He let her sarcasm go. Her response was no more or less than he'd expected.
When the silence stretched beyond comfort, she asked, "What is it you want?"
You. He bit the inside of his mouth to prevent that thought from coming out. "I've decided Incognito would be the perfect place to spend time while I research my next book."
Her gaze flickered away from him then returned with hardened resolve. "No."
"You wouldn't welcome the chance to increase business by being featured in a national publication?" Not that he would expose the real name and location of the club. Private establishments of this nature were private for a reason. But that didn't curb his urge to prick at her icy façade. He knew she could stand up to his teasing. She didn't let him down.
"This is a private club, Doctor, for members only. Not your own collection of lab mice. Membership is by referral. And as you can no doubt hear for yourself, business is just fine without your interference." Her hand rose as if to show him to the door. "If you are not a member, you may not enter. I can't allow anyone to disturb my patrons."
He took a step toward her, closing the gap between them to less than a foot. She didn't back away, not that he expected her to. But as he watched, the pulse at the base of her throat sped up. Her small breasts, pressed tightly into the latex bustier, rose and fell a bit faster.
He raised his hand, the invitation between two fingers. "You will deny me entrance after you extended an invitation?"
Her jaw tightened in obvious annoyance, and he had the urge to laugh. She slipped the card from his fingers, careful not to touch him, and examined it, as if checking its authenticity. As her head tilted, her jet-black hair fell forward, obscuring her exotic features. He breathed in her scent, her heat. She was as magnificent as he remembered.
As hard as he remembered. Fierce. Fiery. The urge to touch, to command, to dominate, had him fisting his hands at his sides.
"Where did you get this?"
"You didn't pass them out at the Owner's Conference?"
Her frown deepened. "Of course I did. But to fellow attendees, not guest speakers."
He shrugged. What did it matter that he'd gotten the card from his editor who'd accompanied him to the conference? He had the card. All that mattered now was whether the woman in front of him would honor it.
She raised her head, and her onyx eyes flashed with anger. "You may not interrogate my patrons."
He gave a single nod of understanding. He hadn't intended to do so, but he again gave in to the urge to tease her. "Perhaps you will grant me an interview then?"
"No." The word was curt. Final.
"Come now, Mistress Katriona," he said, keeping his tone light while his body raged at him to drag her into his arms and taste her. "Surely you'd like to continue the debate we were so rudely interrupted from months ago."
"Slave," she snapped with a quick glance over her shoulder. The riding crop struck her thigh once more in sharp agitation.
Another shadow emerged from a darkened doorway. This one male. Clad in black spandex shorts, a collar around his neck and wrist cuffs chained to a belt at his waist, the man knelt and bowed before Katriona, his face nearly touching the floor.
"Carl, find Doctor Carrington a table in the main hall so he can ... observe."
"Yes, Mistress." Carl stood and turned toward the door, which apparently led into the heart of the club.
Dalton raised an eyebrow at her words.
"You are not to disturb my patrons, Doctor. Under no circumstances are you to discuss your book, your occupation, or your idiotic ideas--" She cut herself off, pursed her lips, and sucked in a small breath. Dalton enjoyed watching the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the second skin of latex.
"You may enjoy any amenities offered. There are a few strays, both female and male, near the bar. You are free to use them as you wish. Carl will show you to your table and brief you on club rules. I suggest you listen; break one, and you're out."
"And if I wish to have a drink with you?"
She crossed her arms over her middle. The riding crop, held firmly in her blood-red tipped fingers, tapped against her hip. "The invitation is for one visit only, Doctor. I am not part of the ... entertainment."
He chuckled and gave her a gallant bow. "As you wish ... Kat."
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