by Julia Devlin
Like a selfish bastard, he’d wanted her too bad to let her go and he’d done his best to ignore the need inside him. He’d done everything in his power to be a good, vanilla boyfriend.
But that was no longer an option.
Last night had been the excruciating final straw. Although not for the reasons she thought.
She’d loved him so openly, so sweetly vulnerable, he’d fought the urge not to start pushing her. Demanding. Taking.
Instead of getting easier, it was getting harder and harder to ignore his impulses.
He’d thought long and hard about putting the desire to dominate her aside but in the end it would destroy them. The need was too strong. And as sappy as it sounded, he loved her too damn much to deceive her any longer.
That left one choice—let her go.
She still stared at him as though he’d grown a second head so he gentled his hold, rubbing his thumb along the corner of her jaw. “Are you confused?”
She nodded.
“Do you understand what I mean?” He asked the question already knowing the answer.
“No,” she said in a soft voice.
“Shall I explain?” The next words lodged in his throat but he forced them out. “Or should I leave now?”
The delicate cords of her throat worked as she swallowed. Her pulse hammered against his thumb. Normally he’d take that as a sign of excitement mixed with the perfect amount of fear, exactly where he wanted a sub to be.
But with Anna, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t only fear so he dropped his hand.
Releasing her, both literally and figuratively.
“Please explain,” she said.
“Here, let’s sit on the couch.” Very carefully, he encircled her biceps and pulled her to the antique sofa. She’d inherited the house and relic furniture in it from her grandmother and told him she’d never gotten around to giving it a modern makeover. He’d never had the heart to tell her the feminine, old-fashioned furniture suited her to a T.
He nestled her into the corner and smoothed her skirt. She twitched under his palms and he silently cursed. Forcing himself to give her space, he sat on the opposite side of the chaise, careful not to touch her. He’d probably never touch that smooth, pale skin again. He tried not to think about the loss.
He took a deep breath and plunged in. “Do you know anything about BDSM?”
A shake of the head.
With the internet, it was rare these days to find someone who didn’t have at least a passing knowledge of the term but it didn’t surprise him. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands loosely. “It stands for bondage, dominance and submission, and sadism and masochism.”
Gaze going wide, she shrank into the corner of the sofa as though she wanted to disappear.
Quickly, he spoke so she didn’t bolt from the room and call the cops on him. “Don’t panic, I’m not a sadist. I like dominance and submission. Although it’s not uncommon for bondage and a little pain and punishment to go along with those.” He refused to sugarcoat it.
She rubbed her temple. “What are you saying?”
“I’m what’s called a dominant. I control women sexually. Submissive women who want to give up control. Despite how it might appear on the surface, the Dom/sub power exchange is never about force. It’s always consensual.” Worry knotted in his gut. He didn’t have much experience explaining this to someone with no understanding of the life. He hated the way it must sound.
She frowned and he continued before too many horror images filled her mind. “I know this is hard to understand and I’m sorry I never told you. I usually only date women who know what I am.”
“So you only date women…” She cleared her throat. “Um, like you?”
“In my thirty-two years, other than a girl or two in high school, you’re my only vanilla relationship. I probably shouldn’t have gotten involved with you. My only excuse was I couldn’t resist.” His knuckles turned white. “I didn’t anticipate falling so fast and by the time it hit me, I was already in too deep. I thought I could put it aside. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It’s too hard to be with you when my instincts are telling me to take what belongs to me.”
A tiny tremor shook her shoulders and she wrapped her arms around her chest, plumping her breasts to expose soft flesh. Those breasts he’d forced himself to treat gently when his mind had filled with ways to tease and torment until she screamed.
“And you feel this way about me?” Her quiet voice pulled him from his thoughts.
“Yes, I do.”
“And what would it entail?” Blonde curls bounced as she cocked her head to the side. Expression a mix of curiosity and caution.
He cleared his throat. “That depends.”
“On what?”
He looked into her eyes and let her really see what he’d kept locked inside. “On what I want from you at that given time.”
“Can you give me an example?” She nibbled pensively on her bottom lip.
“I believe I just did,” he said, putting that edge in his voice he always repressed around her. “Tell me, Anna, when I kissed you, what was different?”
The color rose higher, deepened. She smoothed the fabric of her dress. “I’m not sure.”
He leaned over and grasped her knee, hard enough for her to feel the implied meaning behind the gesture. “A submissive girl doesn’t get to evade. A submissive girl has no other choice but to answer the question. That’s the difference.”
“Oh!” Her hand flew to her chest as though trying to calm a rapidly beating heart.
Resigned, he released his hold. “I should go.”
She didn’t move, didn’t speak, only stared down at her long print skirt.
The desire to rip off those concealing clothes and expose her settled in his gut. He ignored it, like he’d ignored all his instincts to strip her down both physically and mentally.
Christ, what a mess. He rose from the couch. “I’m sorry, this is my fault. My responsibility. My only excuse is that as much as I need this, I need you just as badly. If there was any way to let it go instead of you, I would. But I don’t think that’s possible. I’ve been failing miserably.”
Still she remained silent.
Jaw clenched, he fought the desire to demand she tell him everything going on in that brain of hers. That wasn’t an option. He leaned down, running his fingers through the silky strands of her hair one last time before placing a soft kiss on the crown of her head. “Take care of yourself.”
He straightened, turning toward the door to let himself out.
“Wait.” The word sharp.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Pink tongue darting to wet her bottom lip, she twisted her hands. “I want to try it.”
His chest squeezed. Of course she’d say that. He swung around and sat on the couch, grasping those nervous hands in his. “Anna, this isn’t like trying a meal at a restaurant.”
She pulled away. “I know that.”
“The things I want, they’re not easy. You have to want it, not do it out of fear or obligation.”
Eyes clouded with a mess of emotions met his. “It’s not obligation. That kiss…it did something to me.”
More than anything in this world, he wanted to believe. To rush in and agree to give it a try but he couldn’t do that. He’d already caused enough damage, he couldn’t inflict more. He smiled, a gentle, understanding smile. “Anna, that was just a kiss. Innocent compared to the things I’d explore with you.”
“Please,” she said, her voice trembling. “Can we at least try? Aren’t we worth it? We have such so much in common, we’re great together and we’re already in love. Isn’t that worth a night?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Since he’d met her, he’d avoided all things BDSM related. It’d been so long he’d almost forgotten how to think like a Dom. Part of the responsibility was brutal honesty, both with himself and his submissive.
And he w
asn’t being honest.
He was afraid. Afraid to know. Afraid to hope. Afraid to risk it and ruin her perception of him forever.
It was ego.
He met her gaze. “It would be easy for me to sweep you off your feet and seduce you into what I want. But I can’t do that. You’re too important.”
“But, it’s my decision to make.”
He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “Rule number one, it’s my decision. Not yours.”
A flash of irritation crossed over her expression. “I get no say?”
“It depends.”
“On what?” she shot back, tone rising.
He gave her a hard-eyed, stony stare. “On if I say you get a choice in the matter. On this you don’t and that’s my final word.”
She crossed her arms and legs. Completely closed off to him. “Well, since you’re breaking up with me, I don’t have to abide by your rules, now do I?”
He blinked then burst out laughing, surprised he still could given the circumstances. This was one of the things he loved about her—just when she convinced him she was all docile, she’d turn defiant on him. God wouldn’t he have fun making her pay for that smart mouth. “I guess you’ve got me there, don’t you?”
A tilt of that stubborn chin. “Yes, I do.”
Right then and there he put his ego and his fear aside. It was worth the risk and she did have some submissive characteristics. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t be attracted to her in the first place. But that didn’t change his need to protect her. He would not seduce her.
She needed to come to him with eyes wide open.
He thought for a couple of minutes, getting in touch with that dominant part of himself he’d ignored. Finally, he hit upon a plan he could live with. “Go get me a pen and a piece of paper.”
She opened her mouth but he raised a brow and whatever she was about to say stalled in her throat.
“Second rule, no questions. Just do as you’re told.”
Her lips pursed and blue fire flashed in her gaze but she got up. Obeyed. Pleased, he watched the sway of her ass as she stomped away.
Maybe this could work after all.
A minute later she returned with a pencil and a pad of paper. Having dug through her junk drawer numerous times, he knew there were plenty of pens to choose from, which meant the pencil was on purpose. A small little fuck you.
He hid his smile and started writing.
With a strange mix of excitement and irritation, Anna watched Mason scribbling what looked a lot like a list on the pad of paper. She couldn’t deny her shock when he’d made his confession, couldn’t deny at first blush it sounded obscene. Perverted. Wrong.
But as he’d kept talking, a shift occurred and intrigue replaced shock. And that kiss affected her, he affected her. Every time he looked at her in that certain way, she shivered even while her belly heated.
Damn it, she refused to give up. Not until she knew for certain she couldn’t do this whole submission thing. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. She didn’t care what it took.
She’d “bondage” herself to his car if she had to.
Finally, he stopped writing and tore the piece of paper from the pad and handed it to her.
She took it, skimming down the list written in his strong, bold strokes. It looked like a bunch of books and websites. “Are you giving me a reading list?”
“Yes.” A sharp nod. Firm expression a contrast to the amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re right, you are worth it. We’ll give this a try.”
Happiness bloomed where that tiny kernel of hope sat. Thank goodness.
He held up a hand. “Before you get too excited, this little experiment starts now. I’m making the rules. This is not a negotiation. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The change in his attitude would take some getting used to but she was positive she liked it—the command in his demeanor exactly what pulled at her when she’d first met him. The missing piece she’d been attracted to but unable to identify.
His gaze narrowed as though assessing her response. “Good. I know you have a lot of stuff going on with school right now and I refuse to add too much stress to your hectic schedule.”
She smiled. It was just like Mason to take her parent-teacher conferences this week into consideration. “Thank you.”
He laughed, reclining against the high back of the sofa. “You’d best hear the rest of what I have to say before you go thanking me.”
“I’m listening,” she said and for some reason heat spread over her chest.
“Over the next two weeks you’re going to read every book and visit every website I’ve listed. The content and subject matter range from mild to extreme. I’m not interested in all the things you’ll read about, and I’ve done that on purpose. The point of this exercise isn’t about me, it’s about you. I want you put yourself in those situations and think about how you’d feel in them. Make sense?”
She glanced down at the paper clutched in her hands. The list of four books and six websites, doable in the two weeks he’d outlined. “Yes, that won’t be a problem.”
“Good,” he said, stood and slid his keys from his pocket.
“Where are you going?” A moment of unexpected panic flitted through her. They’d agreed to give this a try, he couldn’t leave.
“You need to think about what you’re getting into without distractions,” he said, looking down at her. “You and I won’t be seeing each other over the next two weeks. If after that time you still want to explore domination and submission, come to my house Saturday, the fourteenth, at seven o’clock.”
“But—”
He cut her off with a stern frown. “Not a negotiation.”
She shut her mouth.
“Good girl.” Those two little words made her quiver. How peculiar.
“If you decide not to come, I understand and wish you well.” The keys jangled, the sound loud in the quite room. “If you do, I will give you a demonstration of what you’ve read. At the end of the night, you will decide if you want to continue or say goodbye. Understood?”
She gulped. Two weeks without seeing him? The protest swelled in her throat but one look at the hard, determined set of his jaw told her arguing was futile. She accepted her fate. “Yes, Mason.”
A sly, mischievous gleam she’d never seen lit his gaze. “If you show, don’t be late, because if you are, you will most certainly be paying.”
Chapter Three
Anna twisted her sweaty hands, her stomach a jumbled mess of nerves as she stared at Mason’s front door. With the arched entry, distressed espresso wood and black wrought-iron accents, it looked like a castle.
She gulped. Like a dungeon.
Two weeks ago, wild horses couldn’t have kept her away from Mason’s house but since she’d read the list, she’d debated coming until the last second.
A couple of times on the drive over, she’d been tempted to turn around. Go back to her sweet, maiden-in-the-forest cottage complete with white picket fence. Sheer strength of will and determination not to be a coward kept the car pointed in Mason’s direction.
How did she reconcile the man she’d known with the things she’d read? A constant question since the first page of the “romance” novel he’d given her to read.
She snorted. Romance. Romance was candlelight and roses, long dinners filled with meaningful looks…not whips, chains, St. Andrew’s crosses and screams.
She pursed her lips. She would not scream. She refused. No matter what happened.
She shifted on the balls of her feet. Where was the man? For someone insistent on punctuality, he certainly didn’t follow his own rules, now did he? She scowled at the black doorbell.
Sudden horror had her heart slamming against her ribs—with all her fretting she’d forgotten to push the bell.
She glanced down at the slim silver wristwatch she’d worn.
7:02.
She’d been lost in thought for a whole four minutes
. Feet twitching, she fought the desire to run to her car and screech down his driveway like a bat out of hell.
No! She was here. She would go through with this insanity.
She straightened her shoulders. It was two minutes. Mason was a reasonable man. She had six months of proof to back up her theory.
With great reluctance, she pushed the bell. She refused to run. No matter how terrified.
The door swung open. Her throat dried up like a mirage in the Sahara.
She blinked. He looked…imposing. How did he manage to look dangerous in bare feet and a pair of faded Levi’s? It must be her overactive imagination.
And why’d he have to be shirtless? He had such a beautiful body with all that golden skin and hard muscle. After two long weeks, he looked so mouthwatering she wanted to drop to her knees and lick him.
She scoffed. Clearly she’d read too many dirty books. The women in those stories seemed to drop to their knees at an alarming rate and now they were influencing her.
The whole thing was ridiculous. No woman desired a penis in her mouth that much.
“You’re late.” Those two little words ripped her away from her thoughts.
Cheeks heating, she sputtered, a million justifications spilling through her mind. Two minutes didn’t count. She’d stood on his damn porch, so technically she wasn’t late.
Spine snapping ruler straight, she opened her mouth to explain, only her brain didn’t cooperate and she blurted, “Mason Bennett, if you think for one minute I’m going to be locked up in some cage and treated like a dog, you’ve got another think coming.”
He laughed, standing back to allow her entry. “I’ve missed you too, Anna.”
To her surprise, the outburst eased the tension in her shoulders. She peered into the foyer, heart beating fast. Nothing looked different. Still the same old heavy, dark-wood furniture since the last time.
“Were you expecting me to turn my house into a torture chamber in preparation for your arrival?” The deep, rich timbre of his voice stroked over her skin.
She jerked her attention to him. His lips quirked at the corners as though containing his amusement. Was he laughing at her? “No, of course not.”
