Wicked Christmas Eve by Eliza Gayle Page B

don’t look like someone I would have forgotten.”
    Megan shifted her weight uncomfortably. Dark pants and a dark shirt clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing the muscles of his arms. Other than the sign of faint laugh lines around his gorgeous green eyes, he looked exactly as she remembered.
    Except now his presence unnerved her in a brand-new way. She’d never once imagined him into the BDSM scene. Talk about surreal.
    “We went to high school together,” she mumbled.
    “Hmm…” His eyes narrowed, and she fought not to squirm while he searched for something to remember her by. If her ego hadn’t already taken a beating, she might have been offended. As it was, she didn’t care. A night of anonymity sounded like the perfect escape.
    Cyrus leaned forward and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. Megan held her breath. The electric shock of his touch zinged straight to her core. He didn’t stop there. His finger traced a path from her ear to her lips, leaving her quaking on the insides.
    “We couldn’t have known each other that well, beautiful. You don’t strike me as the easy-to-forget kind.” His voice lowered to a husky whisper, sending a whisper of heat straight to her bare sex.
    Had it been so long since she’d been laid that something so simple turned her on? Obviously so. Fuck it. What did it matter? She’d had a crush on him in high school, so he wasn’t exactly a stranger. One night of something good sounded like a damn fine idea.
    It wasn’t just the man that pulled at her, though. The faint report of the whip cracking in the background continued to beat at her senses. The sound drove her with a need to squirm and press her thighs together. Instead of responding to his comment, she dipped her head. Whatever kinky sex games they played, she wanted in.
    He tucked his fingers under her chin and lifted her head. “Look at me,” he demanded.
    Megan shivered. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to his and held her breath. She wanted him to see what she didn’t quite have the courage to voice.
    An easy smile spread across his face. “You want to play, don’t you?”
    She nodded.
    “You think you can handle what’s going on back there?”
    She swallowed thickly. “I can. Whatever you want.”
    His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. “Be careful what you wish for around here. People tend to take those kind of statements literally.” His hand trailed down her neck and sides before it rested on her thigh. Lust scorched through her, leaving her wetter than before.
    “I am serious.”
    He studied her for what seemed an eternity before he finally spoke. “Do you have any experience with a place like this? This isn’t exactly beginner’s night.”
    “A little, but I’m a quick learner with an open mind.” Her voice shook. She didn’t want to get into the explanation of that one wild year in college.
    Immediately the energy between them changed. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth pursed. “Submissives aren’t allowed to wear clothes in there. At least not tonight.”
    Megan bit at her lip. Was he saying yes? “I understand.”
    A deep chuckle sounded from his chest. “Hmm. We’ll see about that.” He took the empty glass out of her hand and placed it on the bar. Without taking his gaze from hers he spoke to the bartender. “How many of these has she had?”
    “Within limits.”
    “Good.” He bent down, nuzzled her face to the side and bit her lower lip. “Stand up and take off your skirt.”
    The unexpected demand threw Megan for a loop. For a second, her common sense kicked in, urging her to run. Not that she listened. Instead, she slid from her stool and straightened. She unfastened the waistband and lowered the zipper. With little fanfare, she slid the skirt down her legs and stepped out. Cool air brushed across her naked backside and between the V of her thighs. Of all the nights she’d decided to take off her thong.
    “Very pretty. And wet, I’ll bet.”
    She nodded