The Exposure

   But again she didn’t hesitate. Not the Meagan of today. The Meagan of today was off balance enough that she didn’t want to misstep. She quickly put on the robe and went back to kneel in the middle of the room.

   “As you probably imagined,” he said, “we aren’t quite finished for the day. In fact, I have invited someone to run the next scene.”

   He didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath or the way her body tensed.

   “What’s your safe word, Meagan?”

   “Red.”

   “Very well. There is a room off to the side. On your right. The gentleman joining us is already in there, waiting.”

   “May I ask a question, Sir?”

   “Yes.”

   “Are you going to be in the room, Sir?”

   “No, but the room has two-way glass, so I can see. And I’ll be able to hear.”

   Meagan glanced warily at the closed door and bit her bottom lip. Luke considered calling off the scene for a second. But only for a second. He needed to get to the bottom of this. And in doing so, to let her know that deceit had no place in their relationship. Assuming, of course, that they’d still have a relationship after today.

   She threw her shoulders back, held her head up high, and walked through the door.

   * * *

   Her heart was about to pound straight through her chest. Meagan was certain it was beating so loudly that anyone within a six-foot radius could hear it. She came to a stop as soon as she passed through the door.

   What the hell?

   A man faced her, one hip leaning against a desk. Tall and lean, but with an air of self-assurance and strength. She didn’t know him, but he looked vaguely familiar. Her mind scrambled to try to place him. Opening night. Luke’s club. He talked with Nathaniel after Cole left with Sasha. She remembered a German accent.

   “Ms. Bishop,” he said, and she’d remembered correctly. He was German. “Come in and have a seat. My name is Herr Brose.”

   She didn’t know why she was so scared. Honestly, he was a rather good-looking man. In fact, good-looking might be an understatement. In his tailor-made dark suit, he was downright dashing. But there was something in his demeanor, a hint in his expression, that told her the suit was simply the sheep costume and underneath, he was a very dangerous wolf.

   “What exactly are we doing, Herr Brose?” The words were difficult to get out since her mouth was so dry.

   “You are not the one to be asking questions. That is my job. I’m not one to let things slide; however, we’ve never met and I can tell you’re apprehensive. So this will count as my good deed for the month. It won’t happen again.” He nodded toward the chair. “Go sit down.”

   Her legs shook so badly, she was surprised they carried her, but she walked over to the chair and sat down. He moved toward her with a grace that surely had to be at odds with his height.

   “Arms on the armrests,” he said. “Palms up.”

   Her fingers trembled as he bound her by the arms.

   “Legs spread.”

   She instantly obeyed and wasn’t shocked when he tied her legs to the chair legs. When he finished, he stood up and looked down at her. “Such a lovely robe.” His fingers trailed along the collar and she shivered. His hands were warm; she’d imagined them cold. “I’ll let you keep it on for now.”

   She glanced at the window she knew Luke was watching through, but couldn’t see anything. He was watching, wasn’t he?

   Fritz turned around. “Shall we begin?”

   She nodded.

   “Words, Ms. Bishop. When I ask a question, you are to answer me with words.”

   “Yes, Herr Brose.”

   “Lovely,” he said, and turned the lights off.

   For what seemed an eternity, she stared into the darkness, unable to see anything. Not even a light from under the door. She pulled against her restraints, but she was bound too tightly and couldn’t budge.

   A light over her head flickered on and she was momentarily blinded. But he didn’t wait for her eyes to grow used to the light before he began.

   “We’ll start easy,” he said. “What is your name?”

   “Meagan Bishop.”

   “And your occupation?”

   “I’m an executive at NNN.”

   “Do you enjoy your work?”

   “Most days.” She took a deep breath. This wasn’t too bad. It looked a bit scary at first, but this was nothing she couldn’t handle.

   “When did you last have sex?”

   “Last weekend.”

   “How many times did you come?”

   “What?”

   “Wrong answer.” He moved from the desk into the light and took off his suit jacket, all the while keeping his eyes on her. “Each wrong answer earns a punishment.”

   She watched in awe as he rolled up his sleeves. It was his accent, she decided, that made him sound so scary. Fuck, his arm muscles were huge. His hands took the material of her robe and with one jerk, the garment ripped into two pieces, exposing her from neck to waist.

   “How many times did you come last weekend?”

   “Umm, twice.” She couldn’t remember.

   “Four.” The corner of his lip quirked up. “Punishment time.”

   He went back to the desk and returned with a riding crop. “Four swats on each breast.”

   Fuck no, she almost shouted, but bit back her words. She took a deep breath and waited for him to strike. He surprised her by instead kneeling and cupping her right breast with his free hand. His touch was firm, but gentle and his mouth curved into a smile at the small gasp she couldn’t hold back.