It was the way he walked in that caught her eye. Like the slithering viper with a sensuous sway to his step, and with every inch he crossed the floor eyes sweeping about like the predator he was. Always in stalk, and somehow always one hundred percent ready to pounce in for the kill in a moment’s notice. She couldn’t help but watch in awe as he crossed toward the center area. All around them the cameras flashed, and women gasped in awe as he continued on. Camille felt her skin begin to tingle as each of her flesh became increasingly more aware of his presence. It was like electricity running freely through the air, and she was the conduit feeling every sensation. Her skin began to riddle in bumps as she finally broke her stare away from him. What was she thinking? He was a mixed martial artist, and he already had a submissive, and a wife. She drew in her lip, and bit into it tightly as she lifted her gaze to watch him one last time before he disappeared into the area. With a chuckle Camille turned around, and brought her right hand up to massage the nape of her neck, “What are you doing?” She said aloud, but in her haste she didn’t notice when a voice echoed behind her, “Um, hello Miss, I am looking for von Beirutt and de Clervaux Equestrian’s booth?” The voice was smooth, coy, and intoxicating. Even as his words trailed up to caress her ears Camille already felt enraptured. She turned back around, and like a doe in headlights her mouth fell agape, “Um, yes sir, the booth is right this way. I’m Ms. de Clervaux, excuse me for my um, surprise.” Sure enough there was the most handsome of men Camille had ever seen at any of the BDSM conventions; Jeremiah St. Clair. If tall dark, and handsome were ever personified it was he with curly black hair, smoldering green eyes, and a voice like Ian Somerhalder the man sent shivers down her spine. “The pleasure is most certainly mine, Ms. de Clervaux, please call me Jeremiah, Jeremiah St. Clair.” He gave her a wink as his hand gripped hers drawing it upward to press a featherlight kiss to her nimble fingertips. Again that shudder, and it ignited from nothing but a kiss. A kiss like singing fire which sent a jolt of heat from those fingers to the apex of her thighs like a trail of gasoline. Set off at the flick of a match. Omigod, she thought, if either Julien or Andre` found out that anyone else had this kind of effect on her they would have subjected her to events she didn’t even want to imagine, but something was different about this one. Something that made her instantly warm, honey-laden, and dripping with an aching need.
Written by Sai Marie Johnson
Excerpt from Simply Rouge Part II of The Scarlet Erotique Series