Mirror Amour (Circotica Series) Read Free

wanting some naughtiness and adventure that would warm their souls for the remainder of their lives? If I did this, I knew I’d be smug for the rest of my days. Smug that I had the guts to go to a sex circus—on my own—with no regrets, or hesitation—not too much, anyway.
    My mind ran wild with scenarios of what might happen as my feet guided me almost as if I was propelled by magic down the night-darkened streets. I coasted through puddles of street lights, threading through shadow and gloom.
    My body tingled as I imagined Mr. Hot-Worker kissing my neck, touching me, only to throw me down and take domination. At the same time, I flirted with the idea of handcuffing him with a fluffy boa and doing whatever I wanted to him. Holy crap, I couldn’t keep up with my newly kinky brain.
    The horizon glowed with purple up-lights as I slammed to a halt on the other side of the road.
    Only two lanes of traffic barred me from the raunchiest thing I’d ever done in my life.
    Perhaps I read the brochure wrong? Surely there was nothing like this? It couldn’t exist. Why did they want my medical report? Oh God, don’t answer that . Too many questions followed that one and not all of them sexy.
    My throat squeezed as a tall, leotard-clad woman waved at me coyly from across the road. She blew me a kiss, cocking her hip suggestively. I didn’t think my cheeks would ever stop flaming.
    I stepped dazedly off the path and into oncoming traffic.
    An angry horn had me prancing back to the safety of the curb. I broke eye contact with the woman only to have my eyes shoot behind her to a loud, masculine laugh.
    Him.
    He was there. The man who’d started my insane obsession with this place.
    He placed a large hand on the woman’s shoulder and whispered to her, never taking his eyes off mine.
    I gulped as she laughed.
    Checking for traffic, he jogged across the road and stopped within touching distance. He wore an open necked black shirt and low slung jeans with crocodile boots. No circus attire, but for the small slash of black glitter in the shape of a lightning bolt on his cheek.
    Oh my God. He matches my underwear .
    “You. I remember you from the almost-accident an hour or so ago.” His voice resonated deep in my stomach and I struggled to stay teetering on crazy high heels. They pinched my toes, helping ground me in reality and not float away on lust.  
    I tried to speak—to sound sexy and confident—but it came out like a squeak.
    He chuckled and held out his hand. “Are you here for the sex, or for Circotica?”
    My core clenched at the way he rolled ‘sex’ in his mouth. “You mean there are two options?” Maybe I wouldn’t have to go through with this? Severe disappointment crashed over me. Here I was hoping I might kiss the man—a complete stranger—and I might’ve got the wrong end of the story.
    Mortification painted my cheeks.
    He smiled, shaking his head. “Yes and no. There’s sex, and then there’s sex on show. You can either be private or be part of the entertainment. Whatever your fantasy is.” His eyes glittered; I was close enough to notice they were dark purple. He must be wearing contacts.
    “So, show or not to show?”
    My ears burned even as a slideshow of possibilities filled me. I could have sex and others would watch me? I trembled again, but this time in fear. I didn’t think I could go that far, even though at the same time it sounded intoxicating.
    “Umm, I don’t think I want to be part of the show.” Sucking up courage, after all I’d come voluntarily to a sex circus, I asked, “Are you part of the show, or are you open to a private, umm, viewing?”
    He chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re shy? You can’t be. Not the way you ogled me when you were driving.” He leaned in and a whiff of spice, sin, and sex assaulted me.
    Oh God, I could get off just on his smell.
    “Are you going to come ?”
    So he was in charge of advertising. My stomach poised, tensed for something I wanted very