Copyright © Jenna Ives. All rights reserved.
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Isabella Tallin was handcuffed and blindfolded. What the hell was going on?
Okay, so she’d pledged the Sigma Iomega Nu sorority—and everyone knew that sorority initiations were secret, mysterious affairs. But this went completely beyond anything she could have imagined.
Or did it?
She took a deep breath.
Start the story at the beginning, Bella…
Earlier, she’d gotten a call from Diane, one of her would-be sorority sisters. Diane had instructed her to wait at the corner of Main and Elm streets at eight o’clock, where Isabella would be picked up. Nothing more than that. Isabella couldn’t even get a clue out of her as to how to dress. But Sigma Iomega Nu was a well-respected sorority—no deadly drinking binges or wooden-paddle spanking rituals for them.
At least that’s what she’d thought this afternoon…
After Diane’s cryptic phone call, Isabella had stared into her closet, debating what to wear. Her roommate Jenny had recommended a ready-for-anything outfit of T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, but Bella knew Sigma Iomega Nu girls were sticklers about their preppy attire, so she finally decided on a simple white blouse, plaid skirt and sensible shoes. She’d hoped her future sorority sisters weren’t planning to drop her and her fellow pledges somewhere in the wilderness and make them find their way back home, but just in case, she’d also thrown her trusty Swiss army knife into her purse.
After Jenny had dropped her off at eight o’clock, Isabella had been surprised to find herself the only person waiting on the designated street corner. Where were the other girls? Diane had been explicit about her instructions.
She’d glanced at the street sign. Yep, Main and Elm.
Isabella had just started re-running Diane’s phone conversation in her head when a sleek, cherry-red convertible cruised around the corner and pulled to a stop right in front of her.
With the sexiest guy she’d ever seen sitting behind the wheel.
His hair was black as night and slightly mussed, as if the wind had tangled it while he drove. His face was all classic lines—straight nose, square chin, and full, sensual lips. His eyes were a deep, dramatic blue, and she actually felt short of breath as those eyes blatantly looked her up and down.
My God, he was drop-dead gorgeous. Who on earth was he, and what was he doing here?
“Get in,” he'd said with a jerk of his head.
Her eyes had nearly bugged out of their sockets in surprise. He wanted her to get in his car? There must be some mistake.
“Um…you can’t possibly be here to pick me up?” The disbelief had been clear in her voice, even though she’d tried her best to sound casual. But when he actually nodded his head, she couldn’t stop herself from sputtering, “But—but where are the others?”
He'd given her an enigmatic smile and dropped his voice to the deepest, sexiest murmur she’d ever heard. “Don’t worry. They’re waiting for you.”
Dear God. That voice! That mouth! His sinful smile had turned her knees to jelly and she'd swallowed hard. “But—”
He'd leaned across the seat, stretched out a long, muscular arm, and opened the door for her. “Get in.”
He'd said that her fellow pledges were waiting, so obviously he’d been sent to take her somewhere. This was all legit, even if what was happening wasn’t exactly clear to her yet. But then, initiation rites were never clear, were they? That was the whole point. They were shrouded in mystery. She'd swallowed, still hesitant. Call her overly cautious, but no girl in her right mind would get into a car with a man she didn’t know, even if she did have a Swiss army knife in her purse.
“Um. Just to be clear…” she'd said. “You’re supposed to meet me here, at the corner of Elm and Main, at eight o’clock, as set up by Diane, right?”
He'd given her a surprised look. “Yes. I’m here at the agreed time and place. This is all part of tonight’s arrangement. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Well, yes. She wanted to be part of Sigma Iomega Nu, and he seemed to know her future sorority sister. So this must be okay. Everything was legit. Taking a deep breath, she'd made her decision and slid into the passenger seat. He'd nodded his approval and pulled slowly away from the curb.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” she'd pressed.
He'd shook his head. “You know the rules. No questions.”
Yes, those damn initiation rules. No questions. Isabella bit her lip and kept quiet.
With nothing else to do while they drove, she'd covertly studied Mr. Sexy’s perfect profile. In addition to his black hair, blue eyes and that luscious mouth, it looked like he had the perfect body to match. His navy blue polo shirt stretched across a broad chest, the short sleeves giving her a good view of his muscular arms. His tight black jeans outlined his slim hips and long legs. His fingers had rested with casual control on the steering wheel, and made her wonder what they’d feel like on her body.
She shivered slightly, remembering the way he’d boldly looked her over on the street corner.
He reminded her of some dashing secret agent. Silent. Enigmatic. Maybe even a little dangerous. Dangerous in a good way, of course, like the proverbial bad boys she loved to read about in books. Hmm. She wondered what it would be like to have a little taste of dangerous in her life right now. Would a guy like Mr. Sexy ever be interested in a girl like her? And why would her sorority sisters have recruited him? What role was he playing in tonight’s initiation?
Whatever it was, Isabella had enjoyed her little fantasy of gorgeous-guy-and-me-in-a-hot-sports-car. From there it was only a small step to the ultimate daydream of gorgeous-guy-and-me-in-bed. She'd wondered what he looked like naked, what wild things Mr. Sexy liked to do with a woman between the sheets. Whatever else happened during tonight’s initiation, this ride in a hot sports car with an equally hot guy would make a yummy story to tell Jenny tomorrow.
They'd driven for maybe twenty minutes. Isabella was relatively new to the city and only had a vague idea of where they were headed, but she definitely saw it was toward the industrial part of town. Warehouses and well-worn storefronts lined the streets, railroad tracks crossed the road.
Eventually, they'd stopped in front of a huge, nondescript wooden building.
Her escort was a perfect gentleman—helping her out of the car, holding the warehouse door open, and guiding her down a long corridor—but it was all done in silence. Finally, he’d stopped outside a particular door and turned to her, slipping a finger under her purse strap and sliding it off her shoulder.
“Wait a minute!” she'd protested, thinking of the Swiss army knife.
“I promise you won’t be needing it,” he'd assured her, dropping the purse onto the concrete floor. “Now hold out your hands.”
“Your hands. Hold them out in front of you.”
She'd frowned, but did as he asked. And before her brain had time to register what he was doing, he'd reached into his back pocket, whipped out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them around her wrists. In shock, she'd stared at them. These were not police-issue cuffs; they were padded with a thick material, lamb’s wool maybe, like the kind she imagined people used during kinky sex. Her stunned gaze had flown to his face and she'd opened her mouth to protest, only to be rendered speechless when she saw what was in his hand.
“Where’s Diane?” she'd managed to choke out. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Diane’s not here tonight,” he'd answered calmly, then inclined his head toward the door. “The others are inside. Waiting for you.”
“Remember the rules… no questions.”
She'd swallowed hard. This went way beyond what she was expecting. “Um, listen. This is my first time going through anything like this, so I’m kind of—nervous.”
He'd given her what looked like a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. A lot of women feel exactly the same. Just relax, and I’ll take good care of you.”
Isabella had let out a breath. He’s done this lots of times. With lots of women. She'd suddenly felt embarrassed, and was glad none of the other pledges were around to see how silly she was acting.
She'd taken one last look at the blindfold in his hands, and then nodded her consent. He quickly tied the cloth over her eyes.
So now here she stood, handcuffed and blindfolded, hardly believing Sigma Iomega Nu could produce an initiation rite this, well, kinky. She tried to hold on to the thought that her fellow pledges were inside that room waiting for her.
What was going to happen here tonight?
“Are you ready?” Mr. Sexy asked quietly.
She swallowed again, and then nodded.
Copyright © 2017 by Jenna Ives