Indulge (BDSM Second Chance Romance)

Chapter One: Ellie

- Room Service

As a military brat, dragged all over God’s green earth every ninety days or less, I abhorred traveling.

The first few times I really remembered going to far-off places, it felt like an adventure, but the older I got... the more it sucked.

Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing to see wonders of the world, but for me, the process of getting there was a bitch with my motion sickness—the queasy churn of my stomach, the pounding ache in my temples, and the way every jolt of movement felt like punishment.

I knew that the only reason Annette insisted we take a train was because I’d said it was the one way I’d never traveled in the past.

No way was I going to correct or complain to a woman who granted me my first real vacation in what seemed like years.

Annette was a family friend, if you could call my parents’ lovers that.

She and her husband, Anton, swapped with my mother and father. Meaning that Anton would sleep with my mom and Annette would sleep with my dad whenever they ‘swapped.’

In my teenage years, I never wanted to dissect that dynamic any more than I felt I had a right to judge it.

Still, I couldn’t deny that in some ways, it left me a bit... divided.

I could say I understood the concept logically but never could accept it emotionally.

I was far too jealous a person. What was mine was mine. Possessive to the bone.

The thought of sharing made my skin prickle like cold water.

However, many people in the community swore by it and were happier than most ‘vanilla’ couples I’d ever met.

I could probably talk for hours about what went on behind closed doors in any relationship, but not my monkey, not my circus, even if I’d met all the clowns.

In so many ways, being raised the way I was improved me as a person. In others, it made me completely oblivious.

Indulge was no country club. It was a clothing-optional Hede resort with sex, sex, and more sex.

I worked in a nudist setting for a long while during college. Even if clothes were optional for the staff, I was numb enough to it that nudity didn’t equate to sex anymore.

Still, there was a raw thrill in seeing skin—sweat-slicked muscles, curves catching moonlight, the brush of bare arms in passing.

If nothing else, I’d learned that the bare human body was all about how you perceived it.

I also couldn’t deny the Hede in me that loved the wild feel of walking outdoors or swimming without a stitch of clothes on.

The night air clung differently when you were bare; the breeze was a lover’s caress over every inch of skin.

The more reserved part of me was still nervous and shaky about taking this on.

The part I constantly had to remind that all I had to say was, “I appreciate the compliment, but I’m not interested.”

Regardless of the general consensus that I needed to get laid, if there were any other rooms available on the entire island, I’d have been staying in one of those.

After making the initial offer to come with them, Annette guaranteed me there would be a ton of what they jokingly called competition. Reassuring me that I wouldn’t be bothered unless I wanted to be.

It was worth it to be as far away as possible from the prick I gave my rebounding heart and the last two years of my life to.

Fucked up as it sounded, part of me agreed to this for the hopeful ego boost I might get after my lying, cheating, sleazeball of an ex left me for a toddler.

Tom’s hope in breaking into the real estate scene down here was the bonus.

Lyrin may have been eighteen, but not all the girls Ben hit on behind my back were.

I never thought I had self-esteem issues until him.

I also thought I could never possibly feel out of place with them.

But this... wow.

The welcome packet, if not the grand entrance itself, made me wonder if I was walking into a hotel or palace.

Chandeliers sparkled, polished marble floors glowed under soft golden lighting, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla and spice.

“This is incredible.”

I reached out to the curly-haired woman for a hug.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re the daughter I always wanted.”

The beautiful six-foot-something redhead squeezed me close.

Her perfume wrapped around me, warm and musky with a bite of citrus, and I knew Annette had been through her own share of ups and downs since we reconnected.

The kid I used to babysit during our parents’ evenings was probably my best, if not only, real friend until eighteen, when I could stop moving.

To hear that he’d completely cut Annette out of his and his child’s life for some gold digger... yeah. Not happy about that.

I realized I hadn’t seen Joe in years, but we did chat in passing on social media or through our families.

Being honest, even as a teenager, Joe made more sense to me than people my age.

Then he went the way of drugs, both of us stopped going to the club, and that was that, I guess.

I’d still ring his ear if I ever saw him again.

Reconnecting like we did, in some ways, Annette was closer to me than my own mom.

Well, geographically speaking.

Both of them had been included in the drama I’d dealt with the past five years, like I had theirs.

I could only hope that when Dad finally retired, they’d be closer to me. And yes, that the four of them would get back together again.

They were happy, and we felt like family.

It was probably weird to other people, but as possessive as I could be in my own relationships, I didn’t judge love in all its shapes, types, and sizes.

It took a little longer to settle in than I’d expected, and by the time Anton and Annette were satisfied I had everything I needed, it was well after sunset.

I wasn’t really ready for club life tonight. Just wanted a good meal and an evening to sort my own thoughts.

Why not dinner on the beach?

After becoming my own Casanova the last nine months, I deserved a little wining and dining.

Well, I didn’t drink alcohol, but still.

Between the waves, soft R&B, and the moon coming up over the dark rolling waters, I felt like I was treating myself.

The salty wind tangled my hair, the sand was cool under my toes, and the air tasted like freedom.

Well, more like Anton and Annette were treating me, as all my food and beverages were included with the room.

Romance, party of one, was well underway with me out on the sand waiting for a pasta dish I couldn’t pronounce the name of.

I knew it would be a while.

It was a little too brisk out here in the evening air, with the breeze picking up for the nudies.

Goosebumps pebbled my arms, but it felt decadent in its own way.

Inside, with the heaters, on the other hand, was packed, but I wasn’t in a rush to be done with an otherwise rom-com-worthy view and evening.

“Is this seat taken?”

A rich voice coming from my left pulled me from my thoughts, but not my silly grin.

“Yep, it’s for the man of my dreams, though he is terribly late,” I chuckled.

I found that the smoothness of the voice came with an equally easy-to-look-at man. Italian for sure. My weakness...

Silky black hair, a nice scruff of a beard on his face—more than a shadow, less than a full-grown. Small nose, full lips, and deep honey-brown eyes matched with golden olive skin tone and a large, muscled frame.

His scent drifted across the table—something dark and spicy with a hint of leather and smoke.

Oh yeah. Italian Stallion all the way.

I laughed again just because it felt good.

I was having fun now, but I also knew how brutal my head could be when left on its own too long.

With most food venues packed with couples or groups, it was good manners to allow fellow singles to sit rather than making them wait for a table.

Good etiquette.

That was my story, and I was sticking to it.

The naturally tan, tall, and ripped man returned a smile, joining me.

“Well, hello. I apologize for my tardiness.”

Once seated, he waggled his thick, dark brows, falling into my offbeat humor.

“So, what are we having?”

I blushed a bit, taking a sip of water while he flipped through the tabs of the menu.

“What are you in the mood for?”

It really was innocent and inquisitive.

“Room service...”

The timbre of his murmur was even deeper than the baritone he had been using. Full of heat and suggestion.

Letting me know it wasn’t my imagination, and it’s not the menu he wants to order from.