Dear Ms. Casey,

We’re pleased to welcome you to The Pleasure Club.

As you have already signed and returned the contract and filled out all the necessary forms to ensure you receive your every wish, we will be in touch with you shortly with the details of your first Pleasure Night. Your Wish List and Pleasure Forms have been turned over to our staff of highly trained Pleasure Guardians, and they are hard at work finding your perfect match.

We will endeavor to meet your personal fantasy.

When you are contacted again, you will be given a location where your Pleasure Night will begin, and you will also be given a safe word to use should you at any time become uncomfortable. There is no shame in changing your mind. We’re here for your pleasure, and should your safe word be used, your match for the evening will cease all activity, and the game will be put on hold until a mutual agreement between you and your Pleasure Master can be reached.

Once again, welcome to The Pleasure Club.

Please feel free to contact the office at any time should you have any questions.

Yours truly,

The Pleasure Club Management

* * * * *

Ms. Casey,

Your Pleasure Night will begin Friday the 21st, 9:00 PM at the Balantine Club.

Your safe word is Indictment.

Sincerely,

The Pleasure Guardians

* * * * *

What have I done? What have I done?

Victoria Casey sat at the end of the bar in the Balentine Club, sipping a glass of diet cola, waiting for her evening of pleasure to begin.

She’d been there for over a half an hour so far, after arriving right at nine, as instructed. Her cop still hadn’t shown up.

She scanned the club, searching for someone in uniform. Her request to The Pleasure Club had been a policeman fantasy. Handcuffs and all. Licking her lips, she let her gaze wander over the club patrons. They were all so young compared to her thirty-seven-year-old self.

With a quick glance at her watch, she sighed. She’d always had cop fantasies, ever since she was a teenager when she’d watched a tall, muscular officer take down a car thief. Her fantasy had never died, even through ten years of marriage to a boring, very un-dominant accountant.

Yet, now that she was here, she wasn’t sure what to expect. It frightened her a bit.

She wanted to be—

“Victoria Casey?”

The deep voice in her ear caused her to tighten her muscles. Cola splashed from her glass onto the back of her hand. She nodded.

“If you don’t want a scene, I suggest you come with me without making a fuss.”

No one called her Victoria—to her friends she was simply Vick or Vicky. This had to be her Pleasure Master for the evening. But just to be sure...

“And why would I do that?” she asked, turning her head just enough to see the man’s face as he leaned over her. Damn, he was tall. His scruffy two-day growth of dark whiskers made her shiver with excitement at the prospects of feeling them against her breasts...between her thighs.

“Detective James Drake.” He flipped a gold badge in front of her face before shoving it back into his pocket. His suit was a little mussed. His tie crooked, and his jet black hair was mussed and sexy as hell. He was perhaps in his early to mid thirties, and he had the most stunning green eyes she’d ever seen.

She grinned. Even better than a uniformed cop, they’d sent her a scruffy, tired detective.

“You find this amusing Ms. Casey? You’re under arrest for stealing over one million dollars worth of diamonds from First Federal.” He propped a fist on his hip, which shoved his jacket back a bit to reveal a pair of handcuffs. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” He made a point of glancing around the club. “I suggest we get outside before I take you into custody.”

His voice was like gravel. So deep and rough. It skittered over her nerves, making goose bumps pop out on her arms and her nipples hard. He might look scruffy, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his six-foot-three frame. His face was rugged, not only from the scruffy whiskers, but he had a strong jaw and a scar just under his right eye. He might be an actor—hell she didn’t know where The Pleasure Club found their Pleasure Masters, but he looked like a bad-boy detective right out of a gritty crime novel.

Thank you, Pleasure Club!

She slipped into her role as a high-priced diamond thief. “I guess we should take this discussion outside, then, shouldn’t we, Detective Drake?”

He gave a curt nod and slipped his hand around her upper arm. His fingers were slightly callused, and she shivered. His grip was firm, but not painful as he helped her off the stool and guided her through the throng of dancing Balentine patrons. He didn’t lead her out the front door though, instead going down the hall toward the restrooms.

Vicky stumbled as the first bit of worry flashed over her. She might have signed a contract with The Pleasure Club to spend the night with a psycho axe murderer.

His hand tightened on her arm. “Everything will be fine as long as you remember who and what I am.”

His low voice soothed her nerves, and she kept walking. His words could have been ominous, but she realized what he meant. The Pleasure Club was exclusive, and they wouldn’t have a Pleasure Master who was a murderer. He might even be a real cop, for all she knew.

He led her down the darkened hall and out the Emergency Exit door to the back alley of the club where a black sedan sat waiting.

He slipped the strap of her tiny handbag from her shoulder and dropped the purse onto the top of the car. “Hands on the roof,” he commanded, his voice brisk and businesslike. “I have to check you for weapons.”

She almost laughed at the ludicrous statement. She was wearing a tight black cocktail dress that couldn’t hide a tube of lipstick, let alone a weapon. When she didn’t move fast enough, he grabbed her wrists, planted her hands on the roof of the sedan, and pressed his big, hard body against her back.

Her eyelids drooped, and she sucked in a quick breath of surprise. God, he smelled good. Like leather and musky cologne.

“Don’t move.”

He patted down her sides, around to her stomach, which made her muscles tense in excitement, and then down over her hips. But he didn’t stop there. Even though her skirt ended at mid-thigh, he continued lower, to the bare skin of her legs.

Those rough palms skimmed down to her knees, then—oh, good Lord—up between her legs.

“You have the right to remain silent,” he said as he touched her with what could have been professional distance. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

His fingertips slipped up and glided over the crotch of her panties. Her cunt clenched. She dropped her head forward and spread her legs a bit farther, hoping he’d do it again, a little harder.

He didn’t, though. He stood up and grabbed her right wrist, bringing it down and behind her. “Do you understand your rights?”

She nodded.

Cold, hard metal clicked over her wrist. She gasped. She’d never worn handcuffs before.

He took her other hand from the top of the car and brought it down behind her, also. Click. She was locked in. Totally at this man’s mercy. She should be terrified, even though she knew it was all a game, but instead a thrill shot through her the likes of which she’d never before experienced.

Detective Drake spun her around and pressed her against the side of the car, his body big and imposing but not quite touching her. His heat soaked into her cool skin, though, and his warm scent tantalized her senses.

“We’re looking for your partner. We know you didn’t pull off the heist alone. If you give me his name, we might be able to work out a deal.”

She shook her head. “I’ll never tell you anything, cop.” She almost grinned at her acting ability. She could play the game.

He loomed over her, trying to intimidate her. “That’s detective, lady, and don’t you forget it.”

“One badge is the same as another. Just a better pay scale.”

His narrowed eyes glittered in the dim light of the streetlamps, and his jaw ticked with annoyance. Wow, he was good.

“You’ve got a smart mouth on you, Ms. Casey. Someone should have taught you a lesson about mouthing off to a man carrying a badge.”

“Or what?” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ll shoot me?”

He gripped her chin, his fingers big against her cheek, and turned her head to the side. “Oh, Ms. Casey, I have much better ways of getting what I want.”

His mouth closed over a sensitive tendon in her neck, his teeth scraping, his tongue hot and damp and so smooth.