Playing Dirty

CHAPTER ONE

As the elevator passes each floor, a small ping echoes from the speaker overhead. It’s not an obnoxious sound, and I surprisingly find it quite pleasant. It reminds me of a toy I had as a small child, a music box my grandmother gave me one year for Christmas. I don’t remember much about her, she passed away when I was seven, but I will never forget her kindness amongst the chaos of our family home. But those memories are for another time.

I wake up my phone screen to check the text thread from earlier one more time. The time we’re meeting, the address of the hotel, along with the room number—the penthouse—bring me back to the present and why I’m here.

Him.

LD

I’ll be ready for you.

One slightly louder ping announces the arrival at my destination, so I tuck my phone into my clutch as the cart comes to a stop and the doors slide open. I can’t help but let out a small whistle as I take in the view before me. Everything looks so small and quiet from up this high, and I stare at it for a little too long. It’s only when the doors start sliding shut that I snap out of it and reach my arm out to stop them, then step out into the lavish suite.

From the foyer, I take in the wide-open room before me. Most of the overhead lights are off, but lamps and hidden mood lighting give the room an ethereal glow. You can tell a lot of planning went into where every single light is placed because even the hidden ones serve a purpose of illuminating the room in just the right way.

An expansive kitchen done in dark wood and chrome takes up the width of the space to the right. A dining area with a live edge wood table that looks like it could seat twenty is centered in the room below a chandelier that is only slightly smaller than my car. The floor to ceiling windows frame the whole exterior wall, creating the illusion of a picture showing the lights of Chicago shimmering above the dark inkiness of Lake Michigan that is many floors below. The Windy City really is a marvel. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

Stepping farther into the open space, I take in the living room to my left. There are couches and lounge chairs that look so soft, I can imagine sinking into them and never wanting to leave.

A light glow flowing from around the edges of a door left ajar, just to the right of the massive stone fireplace, grabs my attention like a beacon. It calls out like a siren, almost taunting me with whatever is behind the wood panel.

Taking a deep breath, I concentrate all my energy on centering my body and mind, focusing on why I’m here tonight. Letting the real me slip back just a bit, but never letting her go too far, I allow my alter ego to come forward and shine. It’s her time to play.

Let’s get to work.

I push open the door and get my first glance at the masterpiece awaiting me. And what a masterpiece it is.

Much like the main area spaces, the bedroom is only lit with hidden, dim, mood lighting. A king-sized bed sits centered against the far wall, emanating a warm glow from underneath. There are two wall sconces above nightstands, flanking each side of the bed, the soft beams shining up to create small round orbs on the ceiling. There are also floor to ceiling windows in here as well, the inky view of the lake continuing from the other room.

But that’s not the best view in this room. My attention is one hundred percent focused on the dark black sheets partially hiding the object of my desires for the evening. Covered up to his waist by a sheet, my fingers itch wanting to rip it off, is the hands-down sexiest man I’ve ever seen . . . blindfolded and handcuffed, just like I ordered him to be.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” I purr as I kick my heels off to the side and get closer to the bed to inspect him further.

“Good evening, Mistress.”

It’s about to be a very good evening indeed.