he whispered into her hair. “No,” she said, but she was snuggled against him. They were waiting in the foyer of a beautiful house in the Santa Barbara wine country. Roman could hardly believe they were here. They were going to spend the whole weekend indulging in sexual fantasies. He’d had a hard-on for most of the drive. Savannah had slid her fingers into his pants, freeing his cock, and played with him as he drove. Each time her slender artist fingers brought him close to climax she’d pressed her thumb to the vein on the underside, stopping his orgasm. Roman had arrived with blue balls but a big smile. They checked in with their host, Mr. Wilcox, a man they knew from the BDSM scene in L.A. He’d invited them to come up for the weekend to a house party. All the guests were other BDSM enthusiasts. Savannah had been hesitant about going—she thought Mr. Wilcox was creepy—but the Stalwoods were also going, and Savannah liked them. Mr. Wilcox greeted them with a handshake for Roman.
