“No? Well, that’s an honest answer at least.” His hand slides into my bodice, his fingertips brushing my nipple.

I bite my lower lip as he continues to speak. “Where were they before?”

“There.” I nod toward the far side of the room and a simple straight-back chair.

He tugs on the back zipper of my leather pants, and I whimper. Not in protest, but in need.

“What were they doing?” he asks, rewarding my honestly by taking my nipple between his fingers and tweaking it, just rough enough to hurt. Just intense enough to make my knees go weak. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you saw that you liked.”

“He—he put her over his knee.”

“Did he?” The zipper comes down a bit more. The fingers tighten on my nipple. And my breath comes in ragged, wild gasps. “What did he do next?”

Zip.

“He spanked her,” I say.

His hand slides into the leather, his palm cupping my ass as his fingers curve beneath my legs to find my core.

I hear his sharp intake of breath as he realizes just how wet I am—how turned on he’s making me, this place is making me.

And, yes, how turned on my revelations about my own desires are making me.

“Sir,” I beg, and he groans as if in approval, then thrusts two fingers inside me.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, thrusting deeper as I try to surreptitiously grind down on him. And when he withdraws his fingers and starts to tease my clit, I’m pretty sure I’m going to lose my mind. “Do you want me to spank you until your ass is red and tingles, then finger you until you come? Do you want me to take you over my knee right now, your beautiful ass bared for all these people?”

Yes. Oh, please, yes. But I can’t say the words. Instead I shake my head.

“Don’t lie to me, baby,” he murmurs. “Is it me? Do you want someone else’s hand on your ass?”

“No.”

“Good.” His finger strokes my clit again and I shift my hips, wanting to increase the sensation. I look around, trying to see if anyone is watching us, but no one seems to notice us at all. As far as anyone in this room is concerned, we’re standing close together watching the scenes unfolding in front of us. Riley, I realize, doesn’t seem out of place at all.

“Do you come to places like this often?”

“Would that bother you?”

I shake my head. “You know what to do. That makes me feel safe. I was just…curious,” I say, the word true on so many different levels.

He brushes a kiss over the top of my head. “I’m glad. And yes, I come to places like this often, but I come mostly for work.”

I note the mostly. “What do you mean?”