Chapter 9
Running on two hours of sleep and one lonely coffee pod—she’d been too busy lately to restock—Emily finger combed her hair into a messy bun and trudged downstairs for her mail. She felt the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes, the kind that made even breathing effortful.
She took the back stairs to avoid human interaction. She’d almost succeeded, but, as usual, the universe liked to mess with her. She had just pushed open the stairwell door to return upstairs, when Julia rounded the corner.
“Hey, Em!” she called.
Short of ignoring her, Emily was stuck. She turned with a half smile—all she could muster.
“Rough night?” Julia asked, giving her a quick once-over that landed somewhere between sympathy and alarm.
“Rough is an understatement, and I’m out of caffeine,” Emily muttered wearily. “If you’re a true friend, you’ll lend me a coffee pod.”
“Sure. Let me grab my mail first.” When Julia returned, she tossed a pile of glossy ads straight into the trash. “Nothing but junk.”
“It beats a bunch of past-due notices,” Emily replied, holding up the depressing stack as if they were evidence in a trial.
“Hello… what’s this?” Julia plucked a black envelope trimmed in gold from amid Emily’s pile. It was thick, expensive paper—velvety to the touch—and looked wildly out of place between her overdue bills and coupon mailers.
“There’s no stamp,” her friend noted, flipping it over. “And no return address. It must’ve been hand-delivered. That’s either mysterious or serial-killer creepy.” She held it out, eyes gleaming. “I’m dying of curiosity. Open it.”
Emily hesitated. A prickle crept up her spine. “You do it.”
Julia didn’t need convincing. She slit the envelope with the enthusiasm of someone unwrapping forbidden chocolate. When she pulled out the embossed card, she gasped. “Emily! This is an invitation to Devil’s Pointe.”
“There’s no way that’s for me,” Emily said, her stomach dropping. “The mailman must’ve put it in the wrong box.”
Julia shook her head, her springy curls bouncing. “Nope. It has your full name, printed in gold. Someone wanted you.”
Emily snatched the envelope from her. “Why would they invite me? Except for please and thank you, I didn’t talk to any members except Deanna.”
“It could be from her,” Julia mused then smiled, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “You have to go.”
“By myself? Are you insane? That’s how horror movies start.”
Still, her fingers lingered on the card, tracing the raised lettering before she could stop herself.
Julia pointed to the RSVP. “It says you can bring a plus one. What about—”
“No. No, no, no!” Emily cut in, her pitch rising. “I can’t ask him!”
The panic was instant and visceral. Inviting Alec into that world felt like stepping off a cliff—not because she didn’t want him there, but because she didn’t yet know what she’d be asking of him.
“Him?” Julia’s brows shot up. “Wait. Him him? Why not?”
“I just… I’m not… He’s working.” She stammered the lame excuse knowing full well that wasn’t the reason.
“That was the worst dodge I’ve heard all week. Spill. What happened?”
Emily shifted, tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Nothing happened.” Her hesitation an entirely different story.
“Was he boring? A bad kisser?” Julia leaned in. “Or—God forbid—lousy in bed. Please tell me it’s not that tragic.”
“Can I ask you something, without you laughing?” Emily cut in, her nerves close to unraveling.
“Of course. My lips are zipped.” She mimed zipping them—badly.
“I’ve known him all my life. Loved him for most of it. The first time we got close, it was off-the-charts—like I couldn’t breathe. He got called into work, so nothing actually happened. But last night, when it did…”
“Disappointment central?” Julia offered.
“Yeah.” Emily let out a long breath. “Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t bad. We both… you know. But it lacked the intensity of the first time. It felt—nice, and safe. Not consuming.”
Julia tilted her head. “Okay, scientist mode. What else was different? I’m talking where, what, and how?”
“Last night was at his place—huge, beautiful house, perfect mood lighting, big bed. The first time was on my crappy couch in my dinky apartment.”
“Doing what exactly?” she asked.
Emily locked her jaw. No way was she admitting what Alec had done to her. Worse, that she liked it and the memory had been haunting her ever since. Or that afterward, she’d spent considerable time with the battery-powered stand-in tucked in her underwear drawer.
“Forget I asked,” she uttered, turning toward the stairwell.
Julia raised a brow so high, it practically reached her hairline. “Whatever you did that’s too scandalous to say out loud—that’s your missing ingredient.”
Emily groaned, burying her face in her hands and mail. “What if that’s all we have?” she whispered. “What if it’s the kink that does it for me—not him?”
The question unsettled her—not because she wanted the answer, but because she needed it.
“There’s one way to find out.” Julia waved the invitation. “This is the perfect opportunity.”
“Except for what I stumbled upon the other night, I don’t know anything about this,” Emily protested. “I’d be in so far over my head, I’d drown.”
“Novices are welcome,” she said breezily. “This is prime real estate for kink-curious newbies like you.”
Emily looked at her through narrowed eyes. “How do you know so much? Surely not from slinging drinks two nights a week.”
Julia ignored her question and went right on talking. “Plus-ones can’t be just anyone. They have to be vetted.”
“I imagine so. The contracts and NDAs make sense. But what does that have to do with—”
“When I suggested bringing someone, I didn’t mean boring guy. I meant me.”
Emily shifted in shock, and the door slammed shut behind her. “You’re into this stuff?”
“Oh, honey. I’m more than into it,” Julia said, smirking. “I’m a Devil’s Pointe member.”
Emily’s jaw dropped. “I thought you knew your way around because you were a regular with Regina. You never said a word!”
“I don’t exactly broadcast my lifestyle choices,” Julia said. “The offer stands. Girls’ night out tomorrow? You can do your ‘research,’ but you’ll have to participate in something.” She pointed at the fine print on the invitation. “Club rules—no gawkers allowed.”
“It says that?” Emily squinted at the text.
“Not in so many words, but that’s the gist. I’m still curious who sent it. You wouldn’t have gotten an invite unless someone knew you were interested.”
“Was it you?” Em asked, not putting anything past her ballsy friend.
“Please. I would’ve wrapped it in glitter and shoved it under your door.”
“Then I can’t figure out who.”
“If you go, the mystery will probably be revealed.”
Temptation stirred. There were too many questions, too many sparks she didn’t yet understand. But unease tightened in her chest—quiet, insistent. “It feels as though I’d be cheating on Alec.”
Julia’s voice softened. “Hey. It doesn’t have to be about sex. For some people, sure. But for a lot of others, it’s about letting off steam, surrendering control, or the release they get through pain.”
Emily’s heart kicked up as she replayed Devil wielding his crop. The trust, the intensity, and the playfulness.
“I know the members. I can steer you toward a patient dom who enjoys helping newbies find their footing,” Julia added.
Emily bit her lip, still unsure. If this was what she wanted, did she dare suggest it to Alec?
“You negotiate everything,” Julia explained. “It’s up to you, including keeping every stitch of your clothes on.”
“Really?” That was a big fat check in the pros column.
“Yes, everything is consensual,” Julia said, her tone completely serious. “Even if you give consent, if at any point you can change your mind; one word stops it. It’s always your choice.”
That was the part that hooked Emily—the idea that she maintained control.
Julia nudged her hip. “C’mon, Em. I was going anyway—to see if the dom I played with last week wants a round two. If he doesn’t, I’ll be devastated and will need your shoulder to cry on. Please. We’ll go to support each other.”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” Emily argued weakly.
A grin spread across Julia’s face. “Girlfriend, my closet is 70 percent lace and leather. Your excuse just died a swift death.”
“I choose lace, which stays on,” Emily declared firmly. “If I get up the nerve for ‘research,’ it’s with a patience-over-pain dom. Selected by you. Prescreened for niceness.”
“No sadists. Got it,” Julia said, nodding.
“If you can make that happen, I’m in.”
More than that, she prayed the man in her heart never found out. Not until she understood what she really wanted and whether it had ever been separate from him at all.