“You might change your mind someday.”

“Never.”

A pregnant pause followed his steely reply.

“Then the sex is enough. More than enough,” Astrid breathed. “Ah. I knew you’d missed me.”

Emma’s anxiety ratcheted up another notch when she heard a jingle of metal. A belt buckle being unfastened? She waited in dread. Was that the subtle sound of a zipper being lowered? Shit, shit, shit. How the hell had she gotten herself into this—her—hardworking, practical Emma Shore?

The man gave a low grunt. “I suppose if you must use your mouth for something . . .

He didn’t sound aroused. He seemed . . . what? Irritated? Or was that dark amusement tingeing his voice? Forgetting her anxiety for a second, she leaned her head out of the hanging garments and moved closer to the door. It bothered her that she couldn’t picture him. It suddenly struck her that in her brief tour of the Breakers, she’d never once seen personal or family photos. Perhaps he wasn’t family, though. Astrid’s outline was clear in her head, despite the fact that Emma had never seen her. It wasn’t her true appearance that gave her shape, but the character Emma had sketched however loosely by listening to her syrupy seduction. The man remained cast in deep shadow, however, despite the frantic working of her imagination to draw him. Was he old? Young? Stern? Bored? She wished he’d speak again to give her another clue.

Instead, only a tense, billowing silence pounded in her brain. Just when she thought she’d go crazy from the quiet, Emma began to hear Astrid’s moans. They were low, excited . . . muffled. There was no doubt about it. He was in her mouth. Her throat, if the occasional gagging sound was any evidence.

Another unwanted noise entered her awareness, a wet sucking sound. She could envision the movements of the woman’s head as she plunged back and forth on the man’s—Vanni’s—cock, her imagination fed by the cadence and volume of Astrid’s muted moans.

Against her will, her sex prickled with arousal.

Her cheeks scalding, Emma clamped her eyes shut as if doing so would shut off all her senses. She felt both guilty at her violation of the stranger’s privacy during an intimate moment, but also violated herself in some way. An intense longing welled up in her to throw open the doors and quit the place—and screw her job and her pride.

But she couldn’t burst in on that.

The minutes dragged by. The woman’s moans were growing louder and more excited. The man was right. She did talk too much. Or moan too much. Why didn’t she just shut up? She was the one giving him oral sex, not the other way around.

And why was he silent as the grave?

“Enough,” he said quietly, and again, Emma wondered at how he’d said her private thoughts out loud. The skin on her neck and forearms prickled with wariness and anticipation. Not knowing what would happen next—not seeing—was driving her mad.

Astrid’s soft gasps penetrated the panel of wood.

“Go into the bedroom and get undressed. Everything off,” he said.

“But—”

“I’m not in the mood to be the audience tonight for your usual lingerie fashion show. We all know you’re beautiful, Astrid. I’ll join you in a few seconds,” he said more quietly after a pause, as if he’d regretted his sharp interruption and weary sarcasm.

Astrid didn’t respond. Was she miffed? If she was, she didn’t voice it. Something hinted to Emma that restraint wasn’t typical for her. Vanni was supremely confident, but Astrid seemed almost as used to getting what she wanted. Her behavior wasn’t the norm, or at least not completely so. She was holding her temper.

For him.

The sound of a door opening breached her awareness. So . . . the large office was attached to his bedroom suite? Emma leaned as close to the door as she could. What is he doing out there? The sooner he joined his bedmate and they got down to it, she’d be able to escape this ludicrous situation. She didn’t think she’d even be able to confess this fiasco to Amanda or Colin, it was so humiliating, and she told her sister and her boyfriend almost everything.

Yet she’d never had something so incendiary to tell.

A moment later, she heard a slight squeak on the wood floor and footsteps. His stride was long. Fluid. Unhurried.

“Come over here. I’m going to bind you onto the sliding track, then use the flogger on you,” he said.

Emma’s mouth dropped open.

“Anything you say.” Astrid’s reply was only diffident on the surface. Beneath it, there was a dripping greed and hunger that shocked Emma to the core.

Oh no. What kind of twisted, kinky scenario was this? And why didn’t that degenerate Vanni shut the goddamn bedroom door?

Yet she didn’t want him to. And that made this whole situation even more incendiary than she could measure.

She heard something that sounded like heavy metal being moved and arranged on the floor. Emma’s muscles grew so tight, they began to ache dully. Her hand screamed in acute pain, however, protesting from holding the catch on the door so tautly. She longed to let go. Curiosity was a sharp internal prod. Did she dare to peek out and ascertain the couple’s location in the bedroom? They could be yards away by now.

The sound of leather against flesh was the next thing that penetrated Emma’s tense misery. Oh Jesus. They were close. Much closer than she’d imagined. It was almost as if they’d barely moved away from the door. Emma bit her lip in rising agony. Another cracking sound. In the pause that followed, she heard Astrid moan.

“Oh, that feels so good. Yes, give it to me.”

“Quiet,” he demanded. Again, the sharp sound of a lash striking flesh. Another. Astrid cried out sharply.

Emma couldn’t take this anymore. She knew about S and M. Almost everybody did in this day and age. It’d become almost a cliché in modern society. References to it usually earned a smirk or eye roll from Emma.

But sitting here, experiencing the sounds of a woman willingly being flogged with the intent of sexual arousal, hearing the taut crack of leather against bare skin and Astrid’s moans, feeling the inexplicable tension and electricity in the air . . .

. . . none of it felt remotely funny.

What was worse and far more humiliating? A thick, warm sensation had settled in her sex. What was wrong with her? She and Colin had shared a satisfactory sex life for the past two years, but intimacy with Colin had never inspired this intense, undeniable, uncomfortable arousal.

It was humiliating, what he was doing to her. Wasn’t it? Given Astrid’s obvious excitement, it was a little hard to label it.

She began to ease the door open, telling herself that she needed to look if she wanted to escape. She paused when the lashing sounds ceased as well.

“Oh God, Vanni. C’est si bon,” Astrid said shakily. Emma swallowed thickly. He was touching her. Pleasuring her, somehow. It certainly sounded that way.

“I told you to stay quiet,” he said, his patient tone in these circumstances confusing Emma.

Again, the crisp smack. The sound was starting to tear at her, leaving a resulting throb in her flesh. It was unbearable. At all costs, she needed to get out of here. Holding her breath and sending up a prayer, she eased open the cupboard door a tiny fraction of an inch. Cool air brushed against her hot face.

She paused, frozen for a moment in horror. She could see them. Or a slice of them, anyway. Not really them. The woman. She was right there, maybe fifteen feet away. Emma moved her head, holding her breath, trying to get a more complete picture through the cracked armoire door. Astrid was naked and on her hands and knees, kneeling and bound with black rope to a sort of T-bar. The bar rose from a metal rack that sat on the carpet. Astrid’s hair was long and dark—nearly black, lustrous and curled in loose waves. It her position, it hung over her face. Her naked body was voluptuous, the sun-kissed, golden skin gleaming and flawless in the soft lamplight. She clearly sunbathed topless. Her bottom was pale next to her gilded skin, but there was no evidence of a tan line around her breasts. A dozen or so black leather tails landed on a curved buttock, making Emma jump. Astrid cried out sharply. It all looked so alien . . . so deliberate. Astrid’s almost palpable arousal confused Emma even further.