Page 6 of Desire

“Too many clothes,” Emma said, wondering just who this person was who was speaking with her mouth and saying stuff like this.

Tee gave her a high five.

Chapter Two

DANTE

Dante thought the Halloween party was a stupid idea. He didn’t want to get dressed up. He didn’t like how it took away from the discipline of the dungeon. He told as much to Istvahn, the head of security at both Club Inferno and Couture.

“It’s not for us,” Istvahn said. “Just another workday.”

“Besides,” Steve, one of the other Doms, said, “the guests entertain themselves on theme nights.”

Dante grunted. “I’m not dressing up as the devil.” Some things were just too clichéd to be tolerated.

“Unclench a bit,” Steve said. “It’s a party.”

Dante gave him a cold look, but it was lost on him.

“I hear Jana and Leo are going to be vampires,” Steve said.

It was hard for Dante, but he controlled his eye roll. “They will dress up or not dress up at my pleasure.”

“Don’t be such a hard ass.”

“I don’t tell you how to handle your subs. Don’t tell me how to handle mine.” Dante dismissed him with a glance, turned on his heel, and walked away.

The party in the dungeon was an irritation, but he was more concerned about Couture’s Halloween party this weekend. Emma had been bustling around the past two weeks putting together a fairy-tale theme, complete with castles and real horses made out to be unicorns.

He had planned to stay far, far away from that nonsense—until he saw her Little Red Riding Hood outfit. Little was the operative word. While he had been skulking around Couture, decidedly not stalking Emma, he had walked in on her costume fitting. She had her back to him and had been balancing precariously on a high stool. Anya had been busy making adjustments on the front of the costume. It was obvious that she had designed it.

The cape and hood were made of red silk that clung to Emma’s luscious backside. The cape was cut high, falling just barely above the back of her knees. Dante allowed himself the fantasy of licking that sensitive spot. Then Emma had turned around. The skirt was a tight leather that barely covered what it should. The top was a leather bustier that pressed the tops of her breasts up into perfect globes.

Emma had given a little squeak when she had seen Dante standing there.

“Oh, good,” Anya had said, coming around Emma. “I need a man’s opinion. I can’t decide if I want to put her in knee high boots or fishnets and heels.”