Page 5 of Going Deep (Odyssey #3)

Ginger’s cheeks heated when she caught the eye of a gentleman at the bar. His gaze was so blatantly assessing, it felt as though he were touching her. “ Maybe I should’ve worn something…more.”

Anna snorted. “ We could’ve dressed you in jeans and a hockey jersey and they’d still be staring.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Lola put in. “ Blond hair, blue eyes, a rockin’ body. And that peaches and cream complexion? Some of these Doms are salivating over your skin, thinking about leaving their marks on you.”

Ginger was grateful she didn’t have her drink yet—she’d have choked on it. “ They want to mark me?”

“Some of them, sure.” Lola shot her a knowing look. “ How does that make you feel?”

Alarmed, appalled. And okay, maybe a little pleased. But it didn’t seem prudent to mention that. “ I am definitely not ready for that.”

“Of course not,” Anna soothed. “ And if it makes you feel any better, when we say mark, we don’t mean permanently.”

“Mostly,” Lola amended.

“Right.” Anna nodded as Simon walked up, two beers in one hand and a whiskey in the other. “ Mostly .”

“Sure, mostly. Is that mine?” Ginger asked Simon .

He held it out. “ One Scotch , as ordered.”

“Okay, good.” She snatched it up and sucked half of it back in one swallow.

Simon handed Lola her beer. “ What’d I miss?”

“I’m not sure. Ginger ? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Ginger wheezed. “ Just a little liquid courage.”

“Courage like that is really meant to be sipped,” Simon advised.

“No kidding.” Her throat was on fire.

“What were you all talking about?” Simon wanted to know.

“Marks,” Lola said.

“Non-permanent ones,” Anna added. “ Like bruises or small welts, maybe a handprint from a spanking.”

“So, not tattoos and scarification and brands. What ?” she said when they just stared at her. “ They were on the list.”

Simon looked at Ginger , amusement in his golden eyes. “ Panicked , did you?”

Ginger held up a hand, her thumb and forefinger pinched together. “ Little bit.”

Grant joined the group, holding a beer and Anna’s vodka tonic. “ What’s going on?”

“Ginger panicked,” Simon supplied.

Grant handed Anna her drink, then slung an arm over her shoulder. “ Over ?”

Ginger shrugged sheepishly. “ Scarification .”

Grant’s eyebrows shot up. “ Well , shit. That’d make me panic, too.”

“Really?”

“Hell, yes. You doing okay now?”

Grateful for the solidarity, and the easy concern, Ginger nodded. “ I’m okay.”

“All right, then.” Grant nodded. “ Let’s go see what’s cooking on the second floor.”

What was cooking on the second floor was a lot. They saw a woman tied to what was described as a St . Andrew’s cross being flogged, a male sub being whipped by a tiny brunette dressed in head to toe spiked leather, a Dom plying his submissive with a violet wand, and a bondage suspension scene.

It was hard to know where to look.

After some discussion, they decided to watch the flogging, and gathered in the observation area in front of the St . Andrew’s cross. Ginger settled into her chair, her fingers curled around her glass. Anna was perched on Grant’s lap on one side of her, Lola on the arm of Simon’s chair on the other.

Lola leaned over to whisper in Ginger’s ear. “ That flogger is a heavy one, designed to produce a thuddy sensation rather than a stinging one.”

Ginger kept her voice low. “ What’s it made of?”

“Probably buffalo leather. See how he’s working it so it hits her upper back, or her buttocks and thighs?”

Ginger nodded. “ He’s avoiding her lower back because of the kidneys’, right?” She remembered from her reading that striking over the lower back could cause kidney damage.

Lola smiled with approval. “ Right .”

The scene area was well lit, providing a clear view of the marks the flogger was leaving on the woman’s white skin.

Her upper back was almost glowing with pink, her butt and legs showing stripes in red and darker pink, showing harder strikes.

The woman’s body jolted with each fall of the flogger, and she was moaning, deep guttural sounds of pain and pleasure.

It was fascinating, disturbing. And to Ginger’s shock, one of the most arousing things she’d ever seen in her life.

* * *

Michael found them in front of a flogging scene on the second floor.

He stood back, wanting to observe for a moment before making his presence known.

Ginger was flanked on either side by her friends, which was no surprise.

Simon had told him the four of them would be escorting Ginger tonight, and though he might personally have wished for a less vigilant escort, he could only approve their caution.

He’d already heard the buzz in the bar downstairs about the new blue-eyed blonde with the soft-looking skin and amazing body; chances are if she hadn’t come with bodyguards she’d have already been approached by at least half a dozen Doms .

He could hardly blame them.

She was sitting down, facing slightly away from him, so it was difficult to see how she was dressed.

But he could see that her left arm and shoulder were bare, with a hammered silver band wrapped around her upper arm.

The blue of her top would undoubtedly emphasize her eyes, and he wondered if she’d slicked her soft mouth with color or left it bare.

He circled around so he could see her face, keeping to the edge of the area so as not to disturb either the scene or the observers.

He saw Simon glance up, nod once, then turn back to the scene in front of him with a small smile.

Lola didn’t turn, but he had no doubt she knew he was there, and would have her eye on him.

That was fine. He’d never minded an audience.

A high cry from the scene area drew his gaze.

The submissive tied to the cross had been well and truly flogged, her back, ass and legs practically glowing under the bright lights.

Her Dom stood in front of her now, his attention on her face as he cupped a hand between her legs.

From the sound of the woman’s cries and the wet slap of skin on skin, the flogging had left her very close to orgasm, and her Dom was pleased enough with her to get her the rest of the way.

He shifted his gaze, wanting to see Ginger’s reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.

Her lips—soft and pink and shiny with gloss—were parted, her gaze wholly focused on the couple in front of her.

Her hands were in her lap, fingers clenched around a glass that held a generous two fingers of dark liquid.

He frowned, knowing that neither Simon nor Grant would have let her drink any alcohol if she were planning to play.

Which meant he would go home frustrated tonight.

Dismissing his own disappointment, he focused on her face. The submissive on the cross was getting more and more vocal as her orgasm approached, and Ginger’s reaction made him smile.

If he wasn’t mistaken, she was nearly as aroused as the woman on the cross.

Flushed and wide-eyed, her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. Her breasts, beautifully unrestrained under the thin blue top, were rising and falling with her breathing, and her nipples were hard enough to see even in the dim light. Her knees pressed together, she wiggled in her chair.

Oh yeah, she was turned on. And so was he. His dick strained against the snug leathers he wore, and he was grateful he’d worn the restricting pants. If he’d been in his habitual dress slacks or even jeans, his erection would’ve been immediately noticeable.

But in the leathers, with the dim lighting, he might be able to maintain discretion.

The Dom at the cross was working his submissive hard, and she suddenly screamed out her orgasm, her voice rising and falling in time with the convulsions that shook her naked body. Ginger gave a slight jerk in her chair, and her cheeks flushed even darker.

Considering that his cue, he started toward her.

Ginger squeezed her thighs together and tried to slow her breathing. God , she was so turned on, so close to orgasm she could scarcely believe it, and all from watching.

I guess I have to update the voyeurism section of the checklist, she thought wildly, and tried to breathe. She’d seen her fair share of porn over the years, and gotten off to it, but never like this.

It had been so boldly and bluntly sexual, what they’d done, so raw and basic, but that wasn’t what had done it for her.

It was the connection, the all but visible tie between them as he’d worked her over with the flogger, then with his hand, his eyes on her face, his words of encouragement buried under her pleading cries.

And when she’d come, pouring herself out for him with such unfettered abandon, it had been astonishingly, shockingly beautiful.

And really fucking hot, making her wish she’d had the damn blood test so she could find someone to make her come.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and Michael stepped into view.

He was wearing leather pants and a white shirt open at the throat with the sleeves rolled to mid-forearm.

That big body moved fluidly as he walked, reminding her absurdly of a cat stalking its prey.

Even in the dim light, his eyes seemed to glow. And they were looking right at her.

He could make her come, she thought. She’d bet money on it.

She watched him cross the floor, pause at Simon and Lola’s chair to murmur greetings.

She turned her head to follow him as he moved to Grant and Anna , bending low to speak to Grant .

Grant’s eyes flicked to her, making her heart leap, and he nodded.

Then Michael was moving again, walking around her chair until he was in front of her, close enough to touch, and bent into a smooth crouch.

“Hello, Ginger .”

“Hi,” she managed, the word coming out in a husky whisper. In his crouched position, his face was nearly level with hers, and so close she was sure he could hear her heart hammering.

His eyes steady on hers, his mouth curved into that slow, sexy smile. “ Welcome to Odyssey .”