Waking Kiss Read Online Free PDF Page A

years. Was she into edgier play? Hardcore slavery? I hoped she didn’t belong to some other dom, some online motherfucker or something. Only one way to find out, and that was to make my move. “Can I be honest with you?” I said, very close to her ear.
    She nodded. “Uh, sure.”
    “There’s something about you that intrigues me. Your eyes, or your body. I like little girls.”
    Shit, that sounded so wrong. She made a squicked face.
    “No, I mean, petite women,” I amended. “Women who are small enough to manhandle a bit. Just for fun, of course.” I slid a hand up her arm, a light, seductive touch. “Ruby’s never invited one of his ballet friends here before. You fascinate me.”
    She stood very still beneath my full-force invitation stare. Her expression wasn’t welcoming. I didn’t know if it was due to shyness or disinterest.
    “Where’s Rubio?” she asked, looking around. Shit. Disinterest.
    “Downstairs in the play room, I imagine.”
    “This house has a play room?”
    This house? Didn’t she realize this was my house? And why did she think everyone came here to party? I had a basement full of BDSM furniture and equipment—and soundproof walls.
    “Want to check it out?” I asked. I’ll admit it, I was proud of the play room I’d put together. Maybe it would change her mind about hooking up with me. I took the glass out of her hand, set it on the table next to my beer. “No drinks allowed down there.”
    I held out a hand and her fingers closed around mine. Trina scowled and finally seemed to accept defeat as Ashleigh and I crossed the main room and headed for the stairs. There were tons of other guys here who’d be happy to play with Trina, but Ashleigh didn’t seem to be generating much interest. Well, she was wearing black, shapeless clothes, but her eyes… Her eyes were so wide and pretty, light blue or maybe gray with dark lashes. There was something in the way she moved too, some sensual or ethereal quality that made me want to touch her and hold her in my arms. And she was an American. Midwestern girls. Heh.
    To the play room then. I walked ahead of her down the stairs and into the darker, lower floor of the house. We were enveloped by the warm glow of candles and the beautifully erotic sounds of pleasure. Rhythmic thuds accompanied shrieks and muffled screams.
    “There’s Ruby,” I said, pointing to a rack near the corner, where his curvy, screeching partner writhed in chains. Rubio was naked, his cock hard and jutting out. He sidled up to his play partner and rubbed his junk between her ass cheeks. I grinned as he ran a groping hand down between her legs and ripped off her g-string, then stepped back and accepted a whip from a nearby assistant. The implement was perhaps three feet long, black braided leather. I turned to Ashleigh, to make some crack about whether she still wanted to talk to him.
    My words died at the look on her face.
    “Oh my God,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks pale. She looked around the play room in shock.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing.” She tried to act cool and nonchalant, but I could tell this wasn’t what she’d expected. In that terrible moment, I realized I’d misunderstood every one of her signals, realized that we’d been speaking two different languages, fellow Americans or not. Ashleigh Keaton was vanilla, and she was completely freaked out by what she was seeing. I looked over my shoulder and tried to imagine the play room through her eyes. Grasping, whipping, screams and laughter, naked people bound in all kinds of positions on all kinds of equipment, all of them going out of their minds.
    I got her attention with light fingers placed at the small of her back. “Hey, you want to go back upstairs? Finish those drinks?”
    She nodded. “It’s hot down here, isn’t it?”
    We started up the stairs. Her back was ramrod straight and her mouth curved in a fake smile. I wanted to tell her it was all right, that she