Chapter 16
Emily no longer felt like an intruder at Devil’s Pointe.
The once-intimidating house—deceptively elegant on the outside, wicked at its core—had become strangely familiar.
She knew the soft glow of the entryway lights, the faint trace of jasmine drifting in from the courtyard, the hum of anticipation that seemed to breathe through its walls.
But tonight, she wasn’t here as an observer. Tonight, she was Alec’s.
Inside, they moved through the main hall toward the back of the house, Alec’s presence steady at her side. When they passed the corridor leading to the playroom and theme rooms, Emily couldn’t help glancing down it—curiosity stirring, pulse ticking up despite herself.
He must have sensed her nervousness because his voice dropped into the velvet murmur she loved. “No rush. Let’s relax on the patio for a bit.”
She nodded, grateful. He guided her through the crowd with a hand resting lightly at her waist—lightly anchoring. They stepped out onto the patio, where the heavy night air scented of the rain forecasted and a hint of chlorine.
At the bar, he ordered her a Diet Coke and grabbed water for himself.
The patio couches were full, so he steered her to one near the pool, where the waterfall’s soft roar muffled the music—which was all right by her.
She had her drink halfway to her lips then jerked in surprise, splashing a ribbon of soda onto the ground.
Before she could spill the rest, Alec caught the glass and slid it neatly from her fingers.
“Easy, baby.”
Emily barely registered his words. Her attention locked onto the scene across the pool.
Rhys stood shirtless near the cascading waterfall, moonlight glinting off the water beading on his chest. Beside him, mist clung to Gaby’s skin, her clingy black dress already damp.
He lifted the hem drawing it over her head.
Her springy curls tumbled around her shoulders as he tossed it aside.
Even from across the yard, Emily saw the way he looked at her—focused, hungry, unmistakably possessive.
Then came the skirt. With a flick of his fingers, Gaby stepped free, bare in the moonlight. She stood proud, radiant, unashamed.
“This feels wrong,” she whispered, unable to look away. “I know them, Alec. I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t stop.”
He leaned closer, murmuring, “There’s a voyeur in all of us, sweetheart. Only some of us admit it.”
Not her. Not yet.
She knew she ought to look away, but the chemistry between Rhys and Gaby was magnetic, intimate in a way that pulled the breath right out of her.
He circled her slowly, fingertips gliding over her skin, his gaze focused solely on her. Rhys reached for a rope swing suspended beneath the falls and lifted her onto it. Emily heard her gasp of surprise over the splashing water.
She’d caught only a glimpse of the wooden seat but was immediately suspicious. “That’s no ordinary swing, is it?” she asked, mesmerized by the scene.
“At the Pointe, even the ordinary comes with… Shall we say, modifications.”
She didn’t ask him to elaborate, unsure if she wanted all the intimate details.
Rhys secured Gaby’s wrists above her head with practiced ease. She let him, trusting him.
Her body swayed, water cascading behind her in a shimmering curtain. He pushed her gently under the spray, her lips parted, eyes fluttering shut. When she swung toward him, he pushed her again, following this time, letting the water drench him too.
He caught her, stepping close—one hand on her hip, the other sliding beneath her wet curls—and kissed her. Open mouths, angled heads, Gaby arching into him as if she couldn’t help it.
It wasn’t just erotic. It was electric, so charged she expected to see sparks crackle in the mist.
“Wow,” Emily breathed, spellbound. “They’re amazing together. Have they been a couple long?”
Alec, equally captivated, shook his head. “They’re not.”
Emily tore her gaze away just long enough to gape at him. “Seriously?”
“Not that I know of. But their chemistry is undeniable. He’s been searching for something since he moved to Florida. Maybe he’s finally found it.”
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the pool in stark white before it plunged into shadow. The flash broke the spell.
Alec’s hand tightened on her thigh. “Storm’s coming,” he murmured. “Let’s get inside before everyone else crowds in.”
She nodded, grateful for the excuse to move, to shift the pent-up energy.
They reentered the house just as the first raindrops fell and the patio crowd began to stir. Alec guided her down the hall she’d eyed earlier and paused at the threshold to the playroom.
As usual, it was crowded and humming with energy.
Lit by amber sconces and spotlights from above, there were no shadows to hide in.
Velvet drapes muffled the storm outside, letting the sounds of pleasure and erotic pain rise above the earthy, rhythmic music.
Scantily clad and naked bodies were everywhere—tied, bent, lifted, claimed.
Only a single bench in the center remained open, red leather thickly padded right out of her fantasies, almost as if it were waiting for her.
Alec turned to her, calm and unhurried, his eyes searching hers. “Still no rush,” he reminded her. “But if you’re ready, we should claim that last station.”
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—ropes, commands, or something quieter, more intimate, like last time. But that wasn’t possible in the crowded playroom.
She licked her lips. “I’m ready,” she declared, but her hand trembled in his.
Smiling gently, he brought her fingers to his lips. “I promise this will be far more pleasant than a root canal.”
As he led her to the station, the storm outside faded, so did the music, moans, and crack of leather, all whisper-quiet compared to the pulse pounding in her ears.
Standing under the bright light, her breath faltered. She tried to see beyond the ring into the shadows but couldn’t.
Alec’s hands slid up her arms and he said with quiet authority, “The dress needs to go.”
She tensed. The last time she’d ended that way—bare, breathless, lost in their passion—it had felt inevitable. Starting that way was different. Exposed. Intimidating.
Her fingers twitched at her sides. She felt eyes, imagined or real, and vulnerability crept up her spine. Alec read her hesitancy for what it was—building panic.
“Every part of you is gorgeous, baby,” Alec murmured, his hands still stroking and soothing. “It pleases me to show off your beautiful body and flawless skin.”
Her instinct was to resist, to retreat into herself, or to run and hide. But the way he steadied her, how he saw her, how he made her feel safe even in a room full of strangers, cut through the nerves. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as he gave her, she nodded once.
“That’s my brave girl,” he murmured against her lips.
In one smooth motion, he whisked the sheath dress over her head, leaving her in nothing but a skimpy lace thong. Cool air kissed her skin, and her nipples peaked instantly.
She tried to focus on him, but her gaze kept drifting—to the crowd, the watchers, the ones who might be judging.
He noticed.
She felt the shift before he spoke, the subtle tightening of his grip, the way he angled his body between her and the room.
“Eyes on me,” he directed, firmly.
She responded to his command and saw him pull a length of black silk from his pocket. It was a blindfold—real this time. He stepped behind her, and she felt the brush of fabric against her cheek.
“Your focus should be on me,” he murmured. “My voice. My touch. My control. Since you’re distracted, the blindfold will help you do that.”
As he tied it securely—no gaps or light getting in—the world narrowed. The crowd faded. No more eyes or judgments. Just Alec.
She moved forward, trusting the pressure of his palm, the cadence of his murmured instructions. Her knees met the padded leather first, then he eased her down until her bare breasts, belly, and her cheek rested against the cool surface.
The blindfold heightened everything—the texture of the bench, the hum of the room, the combination of scents around her, from leather to an array of perfumes, even a faint trace of disinfectant.
Alec fastened cuffs one by one—wrists first then her ankles. Each buckle clicking in place, sounding both ominous and thrilling. His fingers brushed her inner thighs as he secured them with wide straps. Then his hands ran over her bottom, up her spine, and down again, giving her time to settle.
“You’re safe,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to her shoulder. “And you’re mine.”
When he moved away, she shivered, not from cold or fear but from anticipation.
He didn’t make her wait long. Fingers of leather glided from her shoulders to the base of her spine—slowly petting.
“This is a suede flogger,” he said, as the strands trailed over her again, fanning out over her skin. “Soft, supple, perfect for easing you in. I think you’ll like it.”
She heard the smile in his voice. Felt the promise in his patient initiation.
The strands left her back, and she braced. He gave her a moment. Another. Letting the suspense build.
Then thwap, the tails connected across her bottom, warm and deliberate.
She sucked in a gulp of air. Not in pain, from shock and need.
“Breathe for me, Emily,” he murmured.
She exhaled, not realizing she hadn’t.
“Good girl,” he praised.
He drew the flogger across her again, caressing from hip to hip. She relaxed into it then thwap. It came down again, still measured but slightly harder.
His boots scuffed on the floor as he moved to her side. “Now, you’ll feel the rhythm.”