Page 1 of Shifted Desire

1

“Look at you, dripping all over the floor. You missed me, didn’t you, Princess?”

A shiver runs down my spine, the potent yet gentle authority pouring off of the masked man as he looms over me a blessed relief.

“Yes, Daddy.”

It’s been too long since I’ve been with a competent dom. Anyone who knows me would laugh at the thought of calling me a princess, but tonight is different.

Tonight, I can be whoever I want.

He tips my chin up with two thick fingers, making me meet his gaze.

My pulse quickens. Does he recognize me?

My white half-mask is securely in place, a wavy black wig covering my platinum locks, so I should be anonymous. But the tattoo on my inner thigh has been on display enough times in the public playrooms, and my particular shade of violet eyes is uncommon.

Never mind that I have a certain…energy about me that’s hard to disguise. I’m part succubus, after all.

I detect no recognition in his pale blue eyes. He could be one of the handful of older white guys with salt-and-pepper hair that come to the club, but I have no clue which one.

I don’t know him, and he doesn’t know me. We’ll leave the scene awash with all the delightful feel-good sex hormones, and no need to discuss seeing each other again.

No room for him to ask for more.

No uncertainty about what any of this means.

I could kiss whoever came up with the idea for a masked night at The Vault. I probably already have, considering how fast I’ve been burning through the kink club’s members.

My lips part, eager to receive whatever “Daddy” wants to give me. I’m a good girl who stays focused on his face, rather than letting my gaze wander to the prominent erection in his pants.

Heat fizzles through me as he traces my lower lip with his thumb, my nipples straining against the flimsy fabric of my sheer purple dress. When he pushes the digit between my lips, I wrap them around it, letting my tongue flick across the pad of his thumb.

Daddy chuckles, and the sound makes my pussy clench. It’s raspy, like he’s spent a lifetime drinking whiskey and smoking cigars, matching the calloused fingers that brush across my cheek as he removes his thumb with a wet pop.

Mmm, I like a man with rough edges.

To be fair, I like everything, as long as the energy feels right.

“So pretty.” He strokes a hand over my hair, and while I can’t feel it much through the wig, I still enjoy the gentle touch that belies the hard fucking I sense is in my very near future. “I’ve been thinking about you all day, Princess.”

I bat my eyelashes at him. “You have?”

Another rough chuckle. “Yes. You teased me this morning, flashing me that sweet little pussy when you bent over, knowing I had to go to work. You knew I didn’t have time to punish you for being a dirty girl who doesn’t wear panties.”

I fight off a smile at the scenario he’s laying out for us. It’s not an innovative one, but it’ll get the job done.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” I dare to reach out and rest my hands appeasingly on his thighs as I give him my best doe-eyed look. “I didn’t mean to tease you.”

The earnestness in my voice should earn me an Oscar, given my natural penchant for being a brat.

A blessing of my succubus lineage—or curse, depending on the situation—is sensing and feeding off of sexual energy. When his desire grows molten at my plaintive sweetness, I drink it down like mulled wine, letting it fill my stomach with languid pleasure.

Half the fun in a scene with a stranger is finding what turns them on the most and letting their surprised delight wash over me when I give it to them. Everyone is their own unique puzzle of desire, and when I put it together and experience their pleasure, it’s a heady rush.

“Daddy” likes the thought of me being innocent to the hold I have on him. He likes the slight prickle of shame and taboo from lusting after me when I didn’t mean anything by my actions.

Many people would judge him for getting off on that, but I’m also a slut for a bit of taboo, so I love it.