By the Letter (Mile High Billionaires #2)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Shira

I was nervous, but that wasn’t anything new. My system was so used to it I barely noticed it anymore, and my body simply didn’t react. My brain might’ve screamed, “Danger, danger!” while my body said, “Meh. If I die, I die.” Which I was grateful for. If my heart started galloping every time my anxiety went haywire, I was fairly certain it would have shut down a decade ago.

Tonight, though, my palms were sweating, and there was a knot in my throat the size of a fist. Nerves and trepidation met with excitement and a smidge of arousal…which made sense, considering I was in a sex club.

A sex club.

This was Bea’s doing. My fearless, live-out-loud friend knew countless secret corners of Denver and had contacts in every walk of life. She was the one who had told me about the app I’d joined strictly out of curiosity, and she’d pushed me to explore.

I hadn’t told her about my…conversations with WhenInRome—or Wim, as I called him. He knew me as Goldie. Wholly uncreative on my part since it was a shortening of my last name, Goldman, but the first time Wim typed “Heeyyy, Goldie,” I’d decided I liked the nickname.

I’d arrived early, just in time to see the Shibari show on the intimate stage in the center of the lounge. A raven-haired woman in nothing but sheer black panties was being wrapped in red rope by two shirtless men. I hadn’t intended to watch, but I’d found myself tucked in a dark corner, entranced by what I was seeing.

If asked later, I might not have been able to describe exactly what the woman looked like, but I would be able to recount in fine detail her expression of pure euphoria. And the men? Oh, the men… Their devotion to their task and the woman between them sent shivers across my skin.

Idly, I wondered if I could do something like that. Give up all control to one or two men and let them move me around and do with me what they wanted.

Not in front of others. Never that. But maybe…

From nowhere, a tall blonde appeared next to me, her elbow bumping my arm. She was watching the show, solely focused on what was happening in front of us.

“Do you like it?” she whispered after a few breathless minutes.

The fist in my throat flexed as my jitters skyrocketed. Unexpected conversations were difficult for me. The comfort of the shadows cloaking us was the only reason I was able to push out a reply.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

She turned to me, and I forced myself to face her, tipping my head back. I barely scraped five feet, though my heels were helping tonight. She blinked down at me, her eyes big and guileless.

“Is this your first time here?”

I nodded. “Yes. Do you…come here often?”

She snickered, and when it dawned on me she was laughing at my cheesy pickup line and not me , I smiled back at her.

“Every night, actually,” she replied. “I work here.”

“Oh? Do you do”—I nodded toward the stage—“that sort of thing?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m more of a paper pusher. But right now, I’m on a mission, and I think you’re exactly who I’m looking for.”

“Oh.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. I’d worn it down like Wim had requested. “I really doubt that. I’m just here to meet—”

“You’re Goldie, aren’t you?”

My lips parted in surprise. “How did you know that?”

She gestured toward my outfit and hair. “I was told to find a woman in a red dress with long black hair. You fit that description, my darling.”

I nodded, retucking the hair I’d just tucked. This was why I always wore it up. I fidgeted otherwise, and that drew more attention than I liked.

Wim must have told this woman how to find me. Wim, who, before this moment, had been a faceless man on the other side of my computer. A picture of a headless body I’d drooled over for the past few weeks. A promise of fantasies fulfilled.

Wim was real, and this was happening.

Tonight, we’d meet, and he’d take me.

Oh god.

My thighs pressed together as arousal surged to my core.

“That’s me.” If she heard the quiver in my response, she didn’t react. Trembles rolled through my limbs, forcing me to press my hand to the wall beside me for support. How was I going to go through with this when just the barest mention of Wim made my knees weak?

Because I need this .

One night, when it didn’t matter what I looked like or who I was. Where I didn’t have to talk or think or wonder if I was doing the right thing. A few hours of human touch, pleasure, a physical connection. Oh, how I needed this.

“I knew it. I’m Samantha. You are going to have so much fun.” She took my hand and squeezed it. “Room ten is ready for you. Are you ready for it?”

“No.” I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. I’d come here for this. I needed it. “I mean, yes. I think so.”

“Then come with me.”

She kept my hand in hers, leading me through the club. The lounge was dimly lit and luxuriously appointed. Couples and groups were scattered around. No one was having sex, but there was an overt erotic flavor to the atmosphere as if everyone was on edge but dragging out the anticipation until it reached its peak.

“You’re going to love this, Goldie. I haven’t been in room ten, but I’ve heard stories. It sounds delightful.”

I breathed a laugh. “Delightful?”

“Mmhmm.” We turned down a hallway with padded leather walls and several closed doors. “To be freely used…usually, I’m more of a participant, but I wouldn’t mind someone bending me over and taking what they want every once in a while.”

Before I could come up with an appropriate response— was there an appropriate response?—we came to a stop in front of a black door emblazoned with a large, white ten.

Samantha unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Your evening awaits, Goldie.” Her brows waggled. “Have the time of your life, darling.”

When I didn’t move, she laughed, shoved me hard enough to get me going, then closed the door behind me.

I was all alone, with sweaty palms and wet panties.

Room ten looked like a studio apartment decked in mood lighting. Flickering electric candles flanked a king-size bed with a grand iron headboard. The other half of the room was a living area with even more electric candles on every hard surface surrounding a couch, armchair, and coffee table. There was even a small, sturdy dining table that hooked my attention. Well, not the table, but what was on top of it.

A gold mask and a slip of paper.

Trailing a finger over the smooth surface of the mask, I picked up the note.

Goldie,

I can’t wait to see you.

Put the mask on and relax on the couch. I’ll be there soon.

Wim

A quiver vibrated my belly. He’d touched this paper. This was his handwriting. Without thinking, I rubbed it against my cheek and down my chest.

Wim and I had talked about how tonight would go over the app. Consent was important to him, and in a situation like this, we both needed to be on the same wavelength before we even met.

WhenInRome: We won’t talk. I’ll do what I want with you.

Goldie: Will you hurt me?

WhenInRome: Never. But I won’t ask permission. You’re going to give it to me now, but you have the power to revoke it. All you have to do is tell me to stop.

Goldie: I won’t want you to stop.

WhenInRome: Believe me, Goldie, I won’t want to either. But I will. Know that.

Goldie: I know it. You have my permission to take me, Wim. I want it so badly.

WhenInRome: I guarantee I want it even more. I’m going to use you up until you’re nothing but a panting, satisfied heap. Then I might use you again.

Goldie: As many times as you want. It’s okay if I’m nothing but ether by the time you’re finished with me.

WhenInRome: That kind of carte blanche is dangerous to a man like me. I have a thing for excess.

Goldie: As long as that means making me come an excessive number of times before I become incorporeal…

WhenInRome: Goldie…only you could make me laugh like a lunatic while I’m hard as steel. Fuck, I can’t wait to get my hands on you.

Wim knew exactly what I wanted. To be used, like Samantha had said. To be taken without discussion. Anonymously. In room ten, we were Goldie and Wim, not Shira and…well, whoever he was outside these walls.

He’d seen my pictures, just as I’d seen his. Anonymous, no faces, just bodies. I knew he wanted me, at least the parts he’d seen, and that was more than enough for me. This wasn’t a grand romance. Wim would give me what I needed without having to go through the song and dance of courting or hoping to get picked up at a bar. Not that I would ever, ever do that. The thought alone made me want to run and hide.

This, though, I could do. I could be Goldie behind my mask, where nothing was expected of me except giving as good as I got. I could do that. I was desperate to do that.

Slipping off my heels, I curled up on the couch and pulled the mask over my face. There, I waited for my Wim.