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atmosphere like a rocket.”
    “Don"t. Come. Now go.” He nodded his head in the direction of the far wall, and Clarissa didn"t hesitate. If she stood there much longer, she thought the look in his eyes might make her climax on the spot.
    She found the bathrooms easily, grateful they were mostly empty. She took the stall against the wall, leaning against it as she locked the door. Her body pulsed with energy, and she wanted nothing more than to reach under the skirt of her sundress, tug her ring, and let her orgasm take over. She was determined, though, to do as he asked.
    She waited a few minutes, hoping the danger would pass.
    When the sensations of impending climax subsided, she bent at the waist, spread her legs slightly, and found her clit ring. She wasn"t wearing panties; she never did unless she wore pants. Her fingers fumbled with the hoop a few times, and the tingly feeling started to grow. She finally pushed the key chain onto the slave ring and wound it around, letting the coin fall into her folds.
    She stood still, afraid if she moved, the feeling of the coin in her pussy, the slight pull on her ring, would make her come instantly. That was not what he wanted, although it would thrill her to death. What had the books said? A good sub only climaxes when her master allows it. And that"s what she wanted, right? To play submissive to his Dominant? That"s why she was here.
    Clarissa concentrated, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.
    After a few long, painful minutes, she tentatively rubbed her thighs together, praying she didn"t orgasm from the friction. When she didn"t, she came out of the stall, washed her hands, and headed back to the table, sitting down quickly. Their chairs had been moved so that they were facing each other. There was a fresh drink sitting next to her partially filled glass, and she smiled at Maddox, who glanced at his watch.
    “Seven minutes.” He gave her a questioning glance. “That"s a long time to do one simple task. Were you a good girl?”
    “Yes.”
    He started to shuffle the cards between his hands again. “Good.” A slight smile tugged at his lips, and she smiled shyly in return.
    “It"s good in two ways: I followed your instructions, or I enjoyed every second of my orgasm. You have to decide which.”
    The grin tugged harder at his lips, and she watched as he set the cards down, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a tin cigar case. He cracked the top, stuck the 22
    Melinda Barron
    cigar in his mouth, and put the tube back in his pocket. He picked the cards back up and shuffled them more before fanning them out on the table.
    “You know, all you need is one of those little green hats and we can play some strip poker.”
    He took the cigar out of his mouth and focused on her face. “Pick a card.”
    “Card tricks? I want to talk about orgasms, and you"re doing card tricks?”
    Frustration swept through her. “You know, if you"re not interested in me just let me know. Maybe I misread the gift you sent, the books. Why did you have me put the key chain back on? I mean—”
    He held up his hand, jerking the unlit cigar in her direction, and she stopped talking. “Pick. A. Card.”
    “Why?”
    He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Why are you here? Did you come to apologize or to play?”
    “Both.” The word came out of her mouth in a rush.
    “Good. Your apology is not really necessary. I have very fond memories of the last time we were together, and watching you come far overshadows you calling me an ass.
    Now, pick a card.”
    Clarissa let her fingers dangle over the cards, moving back and forth before she finally picked one out. She held it up for him to see.
    “The ace of spades.” He leaned back. “You pick them well. I consider that a wild card.”
    “Wild card? What does that mean?”
    “It means I can assign the number.”
    Before she could ask what he meant, he signaled to someone standing behind her.
    A man in a well-cut gray