Roxy is a modern, independent, kick-ass woman, who hides a secret desire – she likes a bit of spice in the bedroom. Will she ever meet a man who can satisfy her desires without expecting her full submission?

Oliver is a man who loves some kink, but doesn’t want to be tied down by a possessive woman. He also has secrets that don’t bode well for a long-term relationship.

When they meet, the attraction between them is immediate and electrifying. They are both amazed by their chemistry. But Oliver’s secret life takes an unexpected turn and threatens their relationship as well as his life. Can they find each other again? Or will their relationship be doomed to failure?

Publisher’s Note: This steamy romance contains elements of danger, action, adventure, and power exchange.


Chapter One




He fastened a silk scarf around my eyes before spinning me so I was disorientated. I heard his voice from behind me. “Take everything off—except the heels. Leave those on,” he growled. Soon my clothes littered the floor. “Now dance,” he commanded.

The music was a slow jazz number, very mellow. I ground my hips to the sound of a sensual sax, bending and swaying to the gentle rhythm. I had a slight smile on my lips as I anticipated what was to come. I delighted in winding him up very slowly.

I couldn’t see him, but I knew he would be sitting in the leather chair, probably sipping on a glass of whisky. He liked these little displays of mine. He liked choreographing them and controlling my movements. He liked his power over me and I handed it to him voluntarily.

“Move that sexy little arse of yours. Show me what you can do. Be my private dancer. Make me want to fuck you without mercy.” I swayed and undulated my hips, running my hands up and down my body, knowing his excitement would be mounting until he could resist me no longer. How I loved to torment him. And how he made me pay, deliciously, for it.

“Enough.” I stopped immediately. He reached out and ran his palm down the curve of my back and over my bottom. “Bend over.” I did as he asked and was rewarded by his hand slipping between my thighs and stroking my pussy. “You’re so wet already. So sexy. You’re my little slut, aren’t you?” From him that was a term of endearment. The more I was his slut the more he loved it. His touch made me groan with need.  He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down, over his lap. As my feet left the floor my shoes fell off with a clatter and lay at his feet. They wouldn’t be needed further tonight. My behind would be lathered and then I would be fucked—hard—just as I loved it.


Oliver and I had been seeing each other for three months, yet people at work still had no idea we were together. Or if they did, they kept our secret. In fact, even I was unsure if we were a couple or just sex buddies. We worked for the same multinational bank and investment company in London, but our paths didn’t cross very often. Oliver was a senior analyst and worked in the rarefied air up on the twenty-fifth floor, whereas I was a lawyer, operating in the company’s legal department on the eleventh floor.

We hadn’t actually met at work, but at a kink club called Temptation. A few years earlier, when in another relationship, I’d discovered I had a rather filthy mind, and quite enjoyed kinky practices. Being tied up and having my backside spanked was, it turned out, something that turned me on. I didn’t feel I was a submissive—or at least, not a full-time submissive. I liked my independence too much. Not that I’m knocking those people who live the life 24/7. It’s just not for me.

I took to BDSM, as it is widely known, like a duck to water. But, unfortunately, the man I discovered it with wanted more than I was prepared to offer. The handcuffed wrists or having my legs stretched out with a piece of rope, turned into being trussed up like an oven-ready chicken, and the hand spanking, or a few licks with a belt, turned into some much more serious beating. The day he trussed me up and began to use a cane on me was the day I used my safeword and walked out—well, stumbled out really. I was in such a hurry to get away I didn’t wait for the rope to be completely unraveled and exited the building without my knickers, and trailing a length of the finest quality white rope behind me. I was quite glad my car was parked immediately in front of his house, although I’m not sure the postman has yet recovered from the trauma.

I stopped going to the kink club we’d frequented and gave it a rest for a while. Perhaps I wasn’t cut out for this type of life? However, after a couple of vanilla flings I began to yearn to live life on the edge again. I was bored. I was restless. I overheard two guys talking at work one day in the lift. They mentioned the name of a club in the City where they planned to go that night. It was pretty obvious from their conversation that they were talking about a kink club, and just the idea of one being so close gave me the shivers in my neglected pussy. I’d been away from the scene for six long months, and I really did miss it. I wanted to go there, but did I have the guts to go alone? Particularly as the chance of meeting work colleagues was quite high.

The problem was solved a week later when a couple of women in my department began talking by the coffee machine as I was vending mine. Yes, my prestigious City bank wouldn’t pay for a decent coffee machine for us. It was either drink the crap stuff from the vending machine, or bring one in after lunch, from the coffee shop on the corner.

“Are you going to Alison’s thirtieth ‘do’?”

“I thought about it, but I’m not sure my husband will approve of me going to a place like that. What about you?”

“Yes, it will be a laugh. I think there’s about six of us going. You must come, Cheryl.” The first speaker, Molly, turned to me. “What about you, Roxy? You going?”

I’d heard it mentioned earlier, but dismissed it immediately. No way would I go to a kink club with a gaggle of giggling women, who were all probably enjoying vanilla sex, if they enjoyed sex at all. Then I chided myself for being so judgmental about the women with whom I spend more time than anyone else. Perhaps some of them were secretly craving some kink in their lives, as I was. Nah, not likely. I could just imagine us standing looking at a couple involved in a spanking scene, and me secretly getting wet between my legs just thinking about the last time I’d been spanked. If they found out I liked kink I might never live it down. There would be eyes following me as I walked through the office, whispered innuendo from some of the guys as I stood at the copying machine, and even worse, looks of pity from some work mates, as they tried to be sympathetic to me because I must have been ‘damaged’ in childhood to crave stuff like that. I knew this was what a lot of vanilla people thought about kinky sex, because I’d heard it with my own ears.

My childhood had been quite normal—well, to me it seemed normal. But then who knows what normal is? My parents are still married, although they had their touch-and-go moments sometimes. They weren’t particularly strict with me when I was growing up, and I’d had boyfriends since I was about fourteen, but I’d resisted the pressure to have sex until I was several years older. Once I discovered it, however, I found I rather liked it, and, what’s more, I think I was pretty good at it too, if I say so myself. Well, I never had any complaints.

To return to the coffee machine, I decided I would go with the girls after all. I could then suss out the place and decide if it was somewhere I would want to revisit. It never occurred to me we might not even be allowed entry into the club. But that’s what happened. When we reached the door we were told hen parties or similar outings weren’t admitted.

“This isn’t a sightseeing tour, ladies. We only admit people who are genuinely interested in kink. Our members wouldn’t like it if we admitted a group of giggling women who have just come because it seems a daring thing to do. I’m sure you’d be happier in one of those clubs where they have male strippers to entertain you.”

Most of the girls left in a huff, but I felt strangely reluctant to leave, as did a woman called Meg from the Accounts department.

“I don’t know about you, Roxy, but this sort of thing turns me on. Does it you? Have you tried it?”

So I admitted to Meg that I did have some experience of kink, and we agreed to go in together. I was relieved not to be going in alone, or with the larger group.

Once inside I was glad I’d dressed in a fairly skimpy, red crepe, close-fitting mini dress, and black five-inch heels, because anything more and I would have felt very over-dressed. There was a preponderance of corsets in various shades, black stockings, and very little else. Meg was wearing denim shorts and a skimpy top, so we both felt we would pass muster, and not stand out too much as beginners. Looking back, however, I now think that everyone in there probably saw the word ‘beginner’ written in black ink across our foreheads. But that’s with the benefit of a bit more experience. Right then, we were confident we merged in.

It was a fairly typical club scene—dark, with some flashing coloured lights in places, and a background of throbbing music. There was a small dance floor with a DJ playing, and a couple of women swirling their hips in a form of dance, pausing from time to time to kiss each other. In another corner a man and woman were having a bondage scene, and further into the room was an alcove, where a spanking scene was taking place. I shivered inside at the thrill I’d been denied for so long, but I had a feeling this place wasn’t where I was going to get the spanking I craved.

Strangely, well to me anyway, many of the men in the club were just standing by the bar, drinking and chatting, when I fully expected they would be salivating over the half-undressed women. Several of them looked up as Meg and I walked across the room, and I felt I was being mentally ‘scored’. I’m not a woman who is falsely modest. I know my worth, and I know I score above average on the male points list. But then that’s mainly fueled by testosterone, isn’t it? I could work my body when I wanted to see grown men drool, but I felt strangely reluctant to strut my stuff in here. At least, not until I’d worked out the lay of the land.

That was when I first spotted Oliver leaning on the bar, wearing a dark, well-cut suit, with a white shirt, open at the neck, and with a glass of whisky in his hand. Obviously, I didn’t know who he was at the time. Just that he was smoking hot. He had dark hair, cut fairly short, but tousled on top of his head, as though he had run his hands through it a few times—or just got out of bed with a ferocious woman. His jaw was square cut, with a twenty-four hour stubble growth, and his eyes were dark and intense. He was looking straight at me, and they seemed to bore right through me. So much so, I almost lost my footing in my five-inch heels. He saw me catch myself in time, and a very slight smile crossed his very kissable lips. I tried to ignore him. Play hard to get had always been my mantra. It wasn’t always a successful tactic, but had worked well in the past.

Meg and I went to the other, less busy, end of the bar and bought some drinks. A very sexy-looking barmaid served us. She was wearing a bra and a mini apron over a black thong, so from behind she revealed a taut, rounded bum. I wasn’t sure whether the management had thought this through. No wonder the men were happy to hang out at the bar.

“Hi ladies, how are you? Nice to see some new faces. You playing tonight?”

I answered without even consulting Meg.

“No, we’re just here on a reconnaissance trip.”

“Well, I hope you like what you see and come back and play sometime.”

We sipped the wine we’d ordered and I turned to Meg.

“Sorry, I answered for us both. I’m assuming you don’t want to get involved this time?”

She seemed relieved I’d answered for her.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure it’s for me, to be honest. I just wanted to see what it’s all about.”

We took our drinks and walked further into the club. There were a couple of play areas, with the usual equipment you would expect to find in such a club. The second of these had a threesome playing, two guys and a girl, and there were about six people watching – four men, and two women. We found ourselves a place where we could observe easily, and sipped our drinks as we took in the scene in front of us. The woman, who was naked apart from a black thong, was fastened to a spanking bench, and being flogged by two men, taking it in turns.

Now, as I’ve said before, I have tried quite a few kinky things, and liked most of them, but I felt uncomfortable watching this scene. It all just seemed a little too public for me. Clearly this was a consensual act between three adults, but if it had been me on the spanking bench, I would have probably been wondering if the six people watching had seen the pimple on my backside, and were making snide comments about it. Not that I had a pimple on my backside, but you get my drift?

I could see Meg was looking quite uncomfortable at my side.

“If you like we can go back to the bar,” I whispered to her.

She looked relieved. “Yes, okay.”

I turned around quickly and came face to face with the man I had been objectifying at the bar. In fact, I cannoned into his rather firm chest. Now here’s a man who looks after himself, was my first thought. I only just managed to stop myself from stuttering my apologies.

I lifted my eyes, for even with my five-inch heels he was several inches taller than me, and thought I saw a slight twinkle in his. But his mouth gave not a hint of a smile. Was this man’s face made of granite? He spoke first.

“Is this not to your taste, perhaps?” He nodded in the direction of the flogging.

“When you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all,” was the only sentence that came from my brain and out of my lips. I cringed at hearing myself speaking so glibly.


So, a man of few words, I thought to myself. I looked him directly in those dark pools in his eyes and, said, in my best Miss Prim voice, “If you’ll excuse me, my friend and I are going to the bar.”

Again I caught the faintest glimmer of a smile, and he stood to one side to let me pass. I strode to catch up with Meg, praying my shoes wouldn’t allow me to end up spread-eagled on the floor.

“Roxy, you don’t mind if I go, do you? I’ve seen all I want to see. I think I’ll get a taxi home.” I could tell the place was very different from what Meg had expected. It was exactly as I expected, but for the shock of it all being so public. I decided to call it a night too.

As we left the club, Meg took my arm. “You won’t tell anyone we went in there, will you? I’d rather it didn’t get round the office.”

“No, of course not. But you do realise that there were some guys from work there, don’t you? Not ones from our floor, but I’ve definitely seen a couple of them in the building before.”

Meg’s face went pale. I’m not sure what on earth she was expecting from such a club, but clearly it had definitely not been to her taste.


A week or so passed, and I forgot all about the evening, until one morning as I was coming to work. I rushed for the lift, and only realised when the doors were closing, that I was alone with the man from the club. Perhaps not quite as hot as the night we met, but certainly the sort of guy who would have no trouble getting dates with beautiful girls. My heart rate immediately shot up, and I hoped it didn’t show on my face.

“So, it’s the pretty woman from Temptation. Do you work here too? Or are you a client?”

He knew damn well I wasn’t a client.

“I work in Legal, on the 11th.”

“Do you have a name, Miss Legal on the 11th?”


“I do. Do you have a name, Mr…? You tell me yours and I might tell you mine.”

He smiled, for the first time, and revealed a perfect set of white teeth. Did this guy not have any faults?

“Touché. Well, Miss Legal, my name is Oliver, and I’m an analyst on the 25th.”

Of course, he was bound to be on the 25th, the next floor to the top. The only people above him were the Directors and Chief Executive, and their very posh secretaries. The occupants of the 26th floor even had their own, exclusive lift, which sped them straight to the top. No waiting for them while people stepped on and off the elevator. Ha! But I got him to reveal his name first. First victory to me, I decided. I didn’t immediately reply, and his eyebrow went up a fraction as though he was just a bit miffed by being bested by a junior lawyer from down below. I decided I was on slightly dangerous territory now. He was definitely an alpha male, and those types, in my opinion, don’t take kindly to cheeky young women.

I put out my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Oliver. I’m Roxy—or Roxanne if you want to be formal.” I waited for the usual comment, and he didn’t disappoint.

“So your mother had the hots for Sting, then?” Then he shook my hand.

“Something like that.” I realised my floor was coming up.

“Well, this is me. See you around.”

Just as the doors began to close behind me, I heard him say, in a very sexy voice, “You most certainly will, Miss Roxy.” The doors closed and he was gone.

I can’t pretend that meeting him again didn’t cause a frisson of tingles to run through my body, but I was under no illusion that a man like him would be an easy catch. I bet he has them queuing up to worship at his feet, I snorted to myself. Well, I didn’t snort, but you get my drift.