While they both used the facilities, she, on the other hand, hugged the rim of the sink. Her breath quickened as sweat from her latex cat suit stuck to her flushed skin. Turning on the faucet, she splashed cold water onto her face and tried to calm down. In the background, Savannah and Sienna’s soft giggles barely registered in her mind. If they’d been talking to her, she hadn’t heard a word the blonde bimbos had said. Her thoughts were preoccupied with Oliver and the performance they’d given for a room full of sick, sadistic vampires. Never in a million years would Anaïs have expected to find a man quite like Oliver Polinski. One minute, he’d shackled her to a bed and played her body like a fiddle. Then next, he let her serve as Dom to his uber-obedient sub. The whole fiasco with Pierre had only been a convenient excuse, she knew. She’d let Oliver weasel his way into her panties because that was exactly where she’d wanted him. Hell, they’d only had intercourse once. Yet those fifteen minutes plastered against the wall of the club had been the most intense she could have ever imagined.
