A Date With A Dom: Prelude to Requested Surrender

by Murphy, Riley

  Yes. Love it.

  Cheesecake?

  Not especially.

  What about leather? Do you like the feel of leather against your wrists?

  A hot sizzle went through her. Landing between her legs with a heady zap. She pushed aside the duvet and blew out a breath. When that didn’t work to cool her off she fanned herself while she thought about a reply. Grinning ear-to-ear the moment the perfect one came to her.

  Better than cheesecake.

  That should make him have to think.

  As much a pudding?

  Dammit. Before she could formulate an answer her phone buzzed again.

  What about flowers? Do you favor roses?

  With relief she quickly typed.

  No.

  Lilies?

  Nope.

  Violets?

  Not my fav.

  What about silk? Do you like the feel of silk pressed against your eyes?

  Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a sneaky way of saying blindfold?

  Silk is nice, but I prefer to feel it—

  She squeezed her eyes shut and worked up the courage to type the rest. David was playing with her here and she needed to get into the game. Admittedly, he was far better at this than she was, but maybe her inexperience would ruffle his calm-Dom feathers some.

  “Fuck it.” She opened her eyes and punched out the last of her reply.

  —between my legs.

  Her heart pounded as she stared down at the small screen. Seconds ticked by. Silence. Nothing. A full minute had passed. She knew because she was watching the clock on her phone. Should she send something else?

  Lilacs?

  She blinked and then realized he was picking up where they left off on the flower topic. Clearly he had no feathers to ruffle. If that’s the way he wanted to play it.

  No, and you’ll never guess.

  Want me to try?

  She pulled the duvet up and snuggled into it.

  Sure.

  Daisies.

  Her mouth dropped open before she pressed her lips together. How had he…?

  How did you know that?

  Secret. Do you know what daisies mean?

  She stuffed her hair behind her ears and quickly returned.

  No and tell me the secret.

  Would it make you happy if I told you the secret?

  Yes.

  She expected him to say that Colin or Jo had told him. Or that he scoured the internet doing research on her. Although she wasn’t sure if she’d ever mentioned that fact about herself. She could have though. Maybe on twitter? He had no right to spy on her.

  Your earrings.

  It took her a moment but then she remembered. She’d worn her silver daisy earrings to dinner.

  Oh.

  Innocence.

  What about it?

  That’s what a daisy represents.

  Wow, that was so not her. She was just about to type that and then thought better of it and adjusted.

  I like that. What kind of flowers do you like?

  David sank back in his leather chair and grinned. Finally she was engaged in the conversation.

  Gladiolas.

  Nice. What do they represent?

  Strength of character.

  Right on the money there.

  He shook his head when he saw she’d punctuated that sentence with a silly winking smiley face. He sat forward. Time to shake things up a little.

  What about steel. Do you like the cold, hard bit of it against your skin?

  An image of her stretched out naked on his bed with her arms up over her head and her wrists firmly locked to his headboard in a pair of shiny manacles, stroked him. He was just envisioning how he’d position her legs when his phone vibrated.

  I’m not sure I should answer that.

  So not an option.

  You have to.

  Is that a rule?

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes? Man she had guts. He readjusted in his seat. He’d been semi-hard imagining her cuffed to his bed but now that he knew she’d like it, his cock turned to stone. Digging into his thigh. Straining against the zipper of his pants. He ignored the discomfort and typed.

  Do you like charades?

  Not especially.

  He nodded.

  What about solitaire?

  Love it.

  What are you wearing?

  A black lace teddy with matching thong.

  He laughed. She was a deceitful little brat when she wanted to be. There was no way in hell she slept in sexy lingerie every night of the week, if at all.

  Are you sure?

  Of course. *gasp* What kind of question is that?

  He sighed because once again she’d included a silly face. Only this one had crossed eyes and its tongue hanging out of its mouth. He thought about calling her on it but then decided not to press her as he knew the motivating factor behind her fib. Him. Or rather her trying to impress him.

  Tomorrow I want you to wear something I send you. Will you?

  What is it?

  It’s black.

  I’m waiting…

  He narrowed his eyes and replied.

  So am I.

  Yes.

  He smiled.

  You’ll see.

  Not fair.

  I know.

  He was just about to type good night when his phone shook in his palm.

  David?

  He didn’t know why he was holding his breath.

  Yes?

  I’m not sure we should be doing this. I’m worried.

  He sighed and released the pent up air in his lungs in rush. Now was not the time to ask her what she was worried about. If he did, he was sure she’d feed him the same bullshit excuse she’d given him at dinner. About how they might screw up being friends when they’d be expected to frequently get together with “the gang”. That’s not what she was worried about. Deep down he knew it, but question was, did she?

  I’m sure and don’t worry. It’s going to be fun, remember?

  That’s what I’m afraid of…

  This time the silly face she included with those words was sideways and sported an inverted “V” bracket over the eyes. He shook his head and typed.

  You’ve agreed to wear what I send you tomorrow and that’s all you’re afraid of?

  Crazy, huh?

  He rubbed his thumb over those words as he thought about them and her. He’d been right. There was something special about her. Too bad she didn’t know it.

  No smart. Now get some sleep.

  K.

  No sooner had he put his phone down than it vibrated again and he picked it back up.

  David?

  Yes?

  I’m really wearing my oversized whiskers and paws t-shirt from the last fundraiser I attended.

  With her admitting that truth an unaccountable pleasure stole through him, but so did something else.

  That’s all you’re wearing?

  I swear. That’s it.

  An image of her in just a shirt. Nothing else under it but skin. All naked and warm. Silky and—

  Oh, my bad. I do have a thong on too.

  When he saw the brightly smiling face that accompanied those words his eyes narrowed and he adjusted his earlier assessment of her. She was special all right. A special brat. No wonder he wanted her with a passion that kept him up at nights.

  Tomorrow when my package arrives call me before you open it.

  Why?

  You’ll see. Go to sleep now. Good night.

  He stood and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he thought about how she’d react to his gift. He wasn’t usually heavy handed when it came to relationships. Not his kind of relationships at any rate. Normally he took his time and savored the getting to know one another part of a courtship to deepen trust, but with her he’d have to be different. He’d have to make concessions and so would she. At least until he had a better handle on her. She needed someone to unlock her and he had every in
tention on being that magic key.

  His phone rocked on the desk and he stared down at it, noticing that the lit screen highlighted a sad face. Reaching out he traced an index finger over it. Wondering, and not for the first time, why she was freely expressive when there were phones and distance between them and yet, face to face, she was as sober as a little judge.

  With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and decided one thing. Lacy Pembrook had a story, and if he got his way he was going to make sure it became an epic.

  The Package

  Lacy bent and put a hand on the sizable box in her front hall, tapping her index finger against the sky-blue ribbon. “What could it be?”

  It wasn’t big enough to be a Sybian and it was too big to be a vibrator. Wait, why did she automatically assume it was something sexual? Maybe it wasn’t. Yeah right. There was about as much chance of that happening as there was her dying in an asteroid apocalypse set off by a rogue pack of earth hating zombies.

  She pressed the side of her foot to the box and pushed it toward her living room. She fully expected it to slide over the tile and was completely caught off guard when it tumbled instead.

  “Hey, sorry about that. I meant to tell you it’s feather-light.”

  Lacy nodded at her contractor, trying not to get aggravated. She’d given him a key to her place so he could come by and take some measurements, not answer the door.

  “Did you say you wanted this tile replaced?”

  “Yes. I want the larger ones. I think they’re twenty inches.”

  “Eighteen probably.”

  Lacy gritted her teeth as she picked up the box. Ever since Joe had agreed to do her home remodel he’d been getting on her nerves. Correcting her over silly things and making suggestions about products she didn’t want. Deep down she knew that the shine she’d initially taken to him when he was doing her clinic build-out had dulled completely the moment she met David, so it really wasn’t Joe’s fault that he was aggravating her.

  She picked up the box and gently shook it.

  “You break anything?”

  “I don’t think so.” She headed to her bedroom and stopped when she got to the door. “Oh, Joe, before you go I have paint and flooring samples in the garage.”

  He smiled and popped his brows at her. “You sure you don’t want to fool around a little? You used to like—”

  “No,” she cut him off before he reminded her. They’d had one night together, months ago, where’d they’d almost hooked up. She never should have let him talk her into getting in the hot tub that night following a butt-load of tequila shots. After that there were a couple of times he’d “talked” her into messing around, but not once after she’d met David. This was the problem. Previously she’d gotten around Joe and his cheap-cutting-the-corners way by giving into him. Now she couldn’t do that and, being that he had one third of his construction fee upfront, she couldn’t fire him either. “Please bring the samples with you and see how close of a match you can get.”

  “Is that them?”

  He pointed to the corner of the living room where she’d painted a swatch of the color she wanted on the walls and had left the extra twenty inch tile sample she’d bought, below it. “Yes.”

  “I think you need to go dark on the paint, and the flooring is too light.”

  Lacy swallowed her irritation and opened her bedroom door. Over her shoulder she said, “I have a conference call to make. Will you be able to see your way out when you’re done?” He dragged his hand through his hair and she knew what that meant. He was nervous. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m not sure my suppliers will have that floor sample.”

  She adjusted the box under her arm and waved him off. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. It doesn’t have to be exact, but please, please, get it as close as possible. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She didn’t wait for him to flash his I-won-again grin—as even that handsome gesture was wearing thin on her— and went into her bedroom. Closing the door with a sigh of relief, she kicked off her shoes and put the box down on the dresser. One tug and the ribbon wilted right off the cardboard. She lifted the lid and looked down, frowning when she spied the yellow Post-it Note on the top of another blue ribbon tied box. On the scrap of paper there was one handwritten line:

  Did you forget to call me first?

  She recalled David’s previous request and blushed. Although why she got flustered was a mystery as he’d never know about the slip-up. He certainly seemed to know everything else though. She eyed the pool of ribbon and shook her head. Taking the half opened box to the bed, she took her phone out of her pocket and sat down.

  Hi, it’s me. I have the box.

  Did you open it?

  No. You told me to call you first, so I am.

  Very good. Untie the ribbon.

  Done.

  Open the lid and look inside.

  Lacy did and then scowled as she typed.

  There’s another box inside.

  Open it.

  Spying another smaller box she wanted to scream while she punched out.

  David!

  You have to be patient.

  Easy for him to say. By now her heart was pounding. Size wise they were getting into small sexual devise territory here. Would he want her to use it on herself right now? Or would he ask her to meet him somewhere so he could watch her use it? Maybe he’d want to use it on her himself?

  K.

  Her hands shook as she was sure this was the last one. It had to be, but then it wasn’t.

  This isn’t funny, David.

  It’s not supposed to be. Open the next one.

  She didn’t bother replying as she set about undoing the ribbon. “Finally,” she breathed as she spied silver tissue paper. Before she parted it she typed:

  I see tissue paper. Can I look?

  No.

  She blinked at that reply and then sent her own.

  Why?

  You didn’t tell me the truth.

  I didn’t?

  You opened the box. You should have one box left and you don’t. I knew immediately when you didn’t mention my note.

  “Fuck.” She chewed on her lower lip trying to figure out how she was going get out of this one. There was only one way.

  Sorry, I forgot.

  To call me or to tell me the truth?

  Both?

  She added a winking smiley face after that.

  Cute, but still disappointing. Next time please follow my instructions.

  She saluted the text, even though he couldn’t see it and then typed:

  Yes sir.

  Okay, have a look at what I sent.

  Lacy was a little disappointed herself, that he didn’t respond more than that, but then she was dying to see what was in the box. Parting the paper, she peered inside. Then she sent back.

  A leather necklace?

  It was black and smooth. Plain, she was thinking, and so not her style that her shoulders slumped. He probably wanted her to wear this on their next dinner date.

  It’s not a necklace. It’s a collar.

  She plucked it out of the box and held it up, deciding it looked like one of the chokers she used to wear in high school.

  Are you sure? It doesn’t look like one.

  You’ve seen a lot of those, have you?

  Not a lot. Shouldn’t it have an O-ring or something? A lock?

  Would you like that?

  She blew out a breath and wondered how she should answer that.

  It looks like a choker to me.

  It’s made out of black licorice leather.

  It was. All black except for the clasp which was silver.

  I probably should have told you I like shiny.

  You’re not ready for shiny yet. Just think of this as a beginner’s version.

  But it won’t go with my dresses.

  It’s supposed to go with your undresses.

  She read that sentence twice and then typed:
/>   Oh.

  Then she thought about his comment about shiny and beginner and keyed in:

  Oh!

  No need to panic.

  I’m not panicking.

  But she totally was.

  You are.

  I am not.

  Just breathe.

  I’m breathing. I’m a little surprised is all. Isn’t a collar a big step for a couple who’ve only been on one date?

  This is not the collar you’d wear for me. This is a collar you’re going to wear for you.

  She scratched her head.

  You want me to collar myself? That’s absurd.

  What I want is for you to pay attention.

  She flopped back against the mattress and held her phone up as she texted.

  ALL RIGHT.

  Stop yelling.

  She took a deep and calming breath.

  I wasn’t. I hit the cap key by accident.

  Is that the truth?

  NO.

  You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that.

  She smiled. She couldn’t help it. She liked that he thought she had guts, even though she knew she didn’t.

  Okay, David, I’m paying attention.

  Good.

  Well?

  I want you to take off all your clothes and put on the collar.

  She sat up, looked at her closed bedroom door and then down at her phone.

  I can’t do that. Jo’s here.

  You can do this when she leaves.

  She? She was going to correct him when she realized her mistake, but her phone vibrated again.

  When you’re naked, except for the collar, I want you to lie on your bed for five minutes and think about me.

  That’s it?

  That’s all.

  Kind of lame.

  Kind of bratty.

  That made her laugh. Then she typed:

  What are you going to do while I’m doing that?

  I’ll be getting hard thinking about you getting soft on me.

  She could almost imagine his voice deepening as he spoke those words aloud. Her mouth went dry and her pulse ticked up a beat. With shaking fingers she replied:

  How do you know I’m going to get soft on you?

  Did I say soft? I meant wet.

  Reading those words acted like a sure and sultry stroke between her legs. Damn him. She was already wet.

  I think I am already.

  Soft…?

  Wet.

  Ask Jo to leave and do as I’ve asked you to do.