Chapter 2 The black door

EMMA

We walked in silence until the club’s music faded behind us. His hand rested at the small of my back, steady and warm, making me acutely aware of every step I took.

My heels clicked against the dark floor. The farther we went, the tighter my stomach twisted.

He stopped at a plain black door, entered a code into the keypad, and pushed it open, stepping aside to let me enter first.

The room was larger than I’d expected, its furniture arranged with deliberate precision. He shut the door behind us, and the lock clicked into place.

My stomach flipped.

He crossed to a panel on the wall, dimming the lights until the room glowed amber. Slow music filled the silence, its bass soft enough to feel more than hear.

I stood near the foot of the bed, watching him because looking anywhere else felt impossible.

He undressed without hurry. First his tie, then the buttons of his shirt, until he shrugged it off and settled into the leather chair.

His gaze found mine.

“Strip.”

The single word landed heavily between us.

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

Everything that had felt bold on the dance floor suddenly seemed real. My fingers hovered near the zipper of my dress, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull it down.

What the hell was I doing?

Following a stranger into a private room because I couldn’t bear the thought of going home to face my mother’s impending marriage.

A future I hadn’t chosen.

He noticed my hesitation and stood. I braced myself for irritation, perhaps another sharp command, but he approached slowly and stopped in front of me.

“Look at me.”

I lifted my eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do you want to stop?”

The question caught me off guard. He didn’t sound impatient. He simply waited.

“Your safe word is red. You say it, and everything ends. No questions, no anger. You’re in control of that. Always. Do you understand?”

Something in my chest loosened.

I’d expected commands, not reassurance. Yet he stood before me, waiting for my answer instead of assuming he already knew it.

I nodded.

“I’m okay,” I said. “I want this.”

He studied my face for another moment before stepping away.

I drew a slow breath and reached for the zipper of my dress.

This time, my hands didn’t tremble.

The fabric slipped from my shoulders, brushing against my skin before pooling at my feet. Under the amber lights, I suddenly felt exposed in a way that had little to do with the dress I’d taken off. His gaze lingered on me, unhurried, making me conscious of every inch of space between us.

I almost reached for the dress again.

Instead, I lifted my chin and crossed the room.

He looked up as I stopped before him. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he held out his hand, and I placed mine in it.

His fingers closed around mine before he drew me closer.

The first brush of his lips against mine was almost tentative. He gave me time to pull away, and when I didn’t, his hand settled gently against my waist.

I leaned into him.

That small movement seemed to change something. His mouth met mine again, slower this time, and I found myself gripping his shoulder as the distance between us disappeared. The kiss deepened gradually, leaving me with little room to think about anything beyond the warmth of him and the strange fluttering sensation in my stomach.

When he finally drew back, I caught myself following him before I could stop.

His eyes dropped briefly to my lips.

“Still okay?”

I nodded, suddenly aware of how close he was.

“Yes.”

He brushed a loose strand of hair away from my face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. Then he took my hand and led me toward the bed.

I followed, my pulse beating a little faster with every step.

Beside the bed lay a silk blindfold. He picked it up, turning it between his fingers before looking at me.

“Do you trust me?”

I hesitated.

Trust was a generous word for what existed between two strangers.

“No,” I admitted.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Honest. I like that.”

He didn’t press me for a different answer. Instead, he waited until I gave a small nod before settling the blindfold over my eyes.

Darkness enveloped me.

Without sight, every other sensation seemed sharper: the soft music, the faint rustle of fabric, the warmth of his hand when it found mine. I became aware of how closely I was listening for him, how even the smallest movement made me wonder what he would do next.

“Colour?” he asked.

“Green.”

His fingers brushed mine, a quiet reassurance before the night continued. He moved around a bit and the next thing I heard was the unmistakable sound of a vibrator. Then I felt it in me.

His hand came down on the inside of my thigh, the sting blooming into heat that travelled straight to where the toy was working. Another on the other thigh. Then higher, against the curve of my ass when he rolled me slightly. Each one made my walls clench around the vibrator. He built the force gradually, the sound of skin on skin cutting through the music, until I was panting and twisting against the bed.

Lost In my head.

There were moments when I surprised myself, when nervous laughter escaped me and the tension in my shoulders finally eased. I had spent the entire day bracing myself for a future I hadn’t chosen. Here, I could answer one question at a time. I could speak, pause, or change my mind.

Gradually, the noise in my head faded.

For once, I wasn’t thinking about my mother’s wedding or the unfamiliar home waiting for me.

I was simply present.

When he finally removed the blindfold, the amber light seemed almost too bright. I blinked and found him watching me.

“You all right?”

“Yes,” I murmured.

He helped me settle against the pillows before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. When he returned with a warm, damp cloth and a bottle of water, I watched him in silence.

I hadn’t expected tenderness afterward. I hadn’t expected him to notice the little things, to make sure I was comfortable without turning it into a performance.

He handed me the water, waited while I drank, then drew the sheet over me.

It was such a small gesture.

Somehow, that made it harder to dismiss.

He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss against my cheek.

“Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll be back.”

I watched him leave, my thoughts too tangled to sort through.

The door closed softly behind him and I sank into the pillows, listening to the music and feeling the last of the day’s tension loosen its hold on me.

For the first time since morning, I didn’t want to think about tomorrow.

I closed my eyes, and sleep soon followed.