by Kendall Ryan
“What have you got to lose?” He leans close, his mouth almost at my neck. My impulse is to lean into him, to give him everything he wants, but that makes no sense. I hardly know him.
His lips brush against my throat. They’re warm and soft, and I can tell he’s restraining himself from pressing me further.
Pulling back, he straightens his jacket. “Good night, Brielle.”
“Night,” I murmur, transfixed by him. I try to think of something witty to say, some comment about my panties that are still in his jacket pocket, but I’m at a loss.
He doesn’t say anything else, almost as if he wants the anticipation to build between us. It’s apparent that he’s intentional in everything he does, and this moment is no exception. He waits while I get into my car before walking over to a black luxury sedan and climbing inside.
• • •
Hale
That was interesting as fuck. When I walked in and saw her, I thought it was a dream. I vowed then and there to treat her as any other client, because if the truth came out, it would ruin everything I’ve built for myself.
I watch her car pull away and wait until her taillights disappear from sight. Then I reach into my jacket pocket and remove the tiniest piece of red lace I’ve ever seen. These are a sore excuse for panties. I ought to punish her, spank her fine ass for torturing me with the knowledge that she barely kept her pussy covered all day while waiting to meet me. Was she trying to tease me? That won’t do. I can’t have her thinking she has the upper hand. I need to show her who’s in charge.
I bring the fabric to my nose and inhale deeply. Sweet feminine arousal greets me. Fucking hell. My cock hardens and tugs at my zipper. Glancing down, damn if I don’t see a tiny damp spot in her panties. Something tells me my new little sub is going to be fun to play with.
But in the meantime, I start my car and head toward Chrissy’s apartment.
Chapter Seven
Brielle
I can’t even put into words what just happened. I ate a meal at the command of a man I didn’t know, responded as he peppered me with erotic questions, and now I’m leaving without any panties under my dress. I feel like I’m in a fog. There could be a six-car pileup behind me, and I’d politely smile and nod and continue holding my hands on the wheel at two and ten. Deep breaths in, deep breaths out.
When my phone starts ringing beside me, I reach into my purse to retrieve it. I’ve been in such a state of shock since meeting him, I completely spaced on my promise to call Julie.
“Well? Did you meet him?” she asks.
“Yes, we just finished. I’m driving home.”
“And? How was it? What was he like?”
“It was…interesting,” I say, for lack of a better word.
“Is he a psycho?”
“No, he seemed completely normal. He’s gorgeous, actually.”
“So are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. It’s crazy, right?” As I sit alone in my car, doubt starts to creep its way in.
“I think it’s kinda cool. Going after what you want, putting yourself out there. You have lady balls, and I love that.”
“I don’t know about that.” I realize it was smart of him to tell me to order a drink. Perhaps that’s where my courage stemmed from.
My thoughts drift, and Julie’s voice pulls me back into the moment.
“You should totally do it, Brie. You said he’s gorgeous. Seriously, what’s the problem? If you feel safe, I say why the hell not? Shit, maybe I’ll sign up for a lesson with him myself if this works.”
The idea of Julie touching him, of him growling out orders meant for her ears, isn’t a pleasant one. It hits me like a smack to the face, and the insane urge to keep him all for myself flares up inside me. Shaking off the growing feelings as nothing more than casual interest tinged with lust, I maneuver my car into the underground garage of my building.
I park in my usual spot and grab my purse, exiting the car with the phone still pressed to my ear.
“I’m glad you’re supportive of this,” I tell her. “I thought you were going to think I was crazy.” Actually, I considered not telling anyone what I was up to—even Julie—but then I realized that wasn’t smart. He could turn out to be a serial killer. “I think this will be good for me.”
I’m willing to put in the hard work to get what I want. Though, trust me, the idea of getting closer to Dom doesn’t seem like work. He is intriguing and sexy in a domineering way. I’ve never been attracted to a man like him before, so I’m sure it was just a fluke. My boyfriends in college were certified geeks—glasses-wearing, white-tennis-shoe-sporting nerds from the IT lab. I almost giggle when I think about the differences between him and the men I’m used to. It’s almost like comparing two opposing species. A lion to a guppy.
“I’m proud of you,” Julie says. “When do you see him again? And you know I’m going to want more details, right?”
Heading inside the elevator, I laugh and punch the button for the sixth floor, where my apartment is located. “I’m well aware.”
• • •
Lying in bed that night, I can’t stop my mind from spinning, playing back my encounter with Dom. As I hug a pillow to my chest and burrow under the covers, I realize he took control prior to us even meeting, telling me how to dress, right down to my choice in underwear, and I eagerly obeyed. Maybe I have more of a submissive nature than I realized.
When I think about him inspecting the panties that he tucked into his pocket, a small smile uncurls on my lips. My life may be neat and well-ordered, but the panties that more closely resemble dental floss than underwear should signal to him that I’m open to a sexual adventure.
I feel naughty and slightly breathless, but if he can really help me win over Kirby, my decision is made. I’m going for it. Hell, it might even be fun.
Chapter Eight
Hale
Brielle followed through like a good little submissive.
By Thursday evening, waiting for me in my in-box is the signed nondisclosure agreement. It might not hold up in court, but it gives us both the peace of mind we need to pursue this affair discreetly. A second attachment contains her test results. She’s completely clean. And her middle name is Gertrude. I suppress a chuckle.
I send her an e-mail, attaching my own recent test results. My name has been blacked out, but she’ll learn that I’m twenty-eight and was born in Chicago. I tell her to meet me at a quiet, swanky lounge in downtown Chicago on Friday night. Our first lesson will begin then.
The Dominant in me is smirking at what I have in store for her.
• • •
I spot her immediately. Seated on a bar stool with a glass of white wine in front of her, Brielle is oblivious to the men’s attention she’s currently garnering. The plum-colored dress tied around her neck that dips low on her back, falling nearly to her ass, makes me feel oddly possessive. I clench my fists at my sides and take a deep breath.
“Who said you could wear a backless dress?” I whisper near her ear as I sidle up behind her. Brielle jumps as though my voice has startled her. She’s not mine, she’s only mine to train for the next six weeks, yet something about the men around her being treated to the graceful curve of her spine, the dimples in her lower back, bugs the fuck out of me.
Brielle looks stunning as she turns to face me with a worried expression. Her mouth forms into a pout, and her gaze travels the length of my body. Leaving late from work means I’m still dressed in a suit, though I’ve loosened the tie and unbuttoned my collar.
“I—” she begins.
“You look beautiful,” I say, looking directly into her eyes.
“Thank you,” she says softly, her posture relaxing.
I take the seat beside her and when the bartender approaches, I order a club soda.
Brielle watches me curiously. “You don’t drink, do you?” she asks, her brow creasing.
“I never drink when I’m working, or when I’m playing in a sc
ene. Keeping my head clear so I can focus on the woman I’m with is much more appealing than a cheap buzz.”
She nods. “You’re quite controlled, aren’t you?”
“Most definitely.”
“What do you do for fun?”
I smirk. “You want to know about my hobbies?”
“Why not?” She grins, bringing the glass of wine to her plump lips.
Something tells me that enlightening her about my activities at the club will only make her more nervous. And as fun as seeing that response would be, I need her to relax, open herself up, and trust me. Tonight will be our first time together. Still, she should know a little about the man she’s hired.
“I like pushing women to their limits. Role playing, light bondage, spanking.” I grin. “And on Sundays, I take my nana to church.”
Brielle’s mouth drops open.
“Tell me one thing about yourself that you wish you could change,” I say, shifting the conversation to her.
She thinks for a moment before answering, taking another sip of her wine. “I wish I had more confidence. One of those women who can strut around in their birthday suit and feel like a goddess.”
I don’t know many women like that, but I know I can help her. It’s as if a man has never really appreciated her body, shown her all the ways she’s beautiful and amazing. I won’t make the same mistake.
“And what about past relationships?” I ask. “You indicated you had two.”
She nods. “Yes.”
“How have you felt you were unsuccessful in those?”
“I was probably too eager, too ready for a steady relationship and monogamy, and the future that goes along with it,” she admits. “Most men aren’t interested in that.”
She deserves monogamy and commitment from a man. But when have I ever really given that to a woman? Once, and it almost ended me.
“Tonight’s lesson is centered on seduction. You wanted to practice attracting the opposite sex, flirting, yes?”
She nods, chewing on her lower lip.
“Do you see that man at the end of the bar?” The guy is in his mid-thirties, decent looking, and dressed in a suit and tie. No ring, nursing a bottle of beer in front of him. Basically, an easy target.
She nods.
“I want you to finish your wine. Walk over there, stand near him with your empty glass. Make eye contact, only briefly, then look away.”
She swallows heavily, her cheeks brightening. The idea of this intimidates her, yet somehow I know she’ll follow through. “Okay. And then what?”
I stroke her cheek, encouraging her bravery. “He’ll start up a conversation with you. Be polite, but don’t be too eager.”
“Wait.” She holds up her hand. “How do you know he’ll start up a conversation with me?”
“He will. And he’ll offer you another drink. Think it over, and then accept. Don’t be too enthusiastic. You don’t need him. You don’t need a man at all, do you understand me?”
“But that’s why I came to you. I want—”
I stop her mid-sentence. “Men can smell desperation a mile away. If he thinks you’re aching for a ring on your finger and 2.5 kids, he’ll disappear so fast your head will spin.”
She frowns, and I suspect that my little overeager kitten has been going about things all wrong. Boldly making conversation, laughing at every bad joke, nodding along and agreeing to just about anything.
Fuck that. She is a delicacy to be savored. I want to breathe in her every breath, feel her skin warm beneath my hands, and know her moans of pleasure are because of me. And I want to fucking work for it. It’s all in the chase. The submission is that much more beautiful when I have to work to make it happen.
“Talk with him for a few minutes, but let him take the lead. He’s the man, for fuck’s sake. I want you to practice flirting.”
“I’m not good at flirting,” she says.
My impish grins tells her that’s the entire point, and when realization dawns, Brielle narrows her eyes.
“Your goal is to leave him wanting more. The old saying about giving away the milk for free? Let’s just say it’s entirely true. Leave him rock hard and breathless. Trust me, he’ll be itching to call you.”
She downs the remainder of her wine in a single gulp. “Wish me luck,” she says, rising to her feet.
She’s taller than I recall, and I look down to see her gracefully arched feet enhanced by black stilettos. “You won’t need it,” I mutter.
Brielle smirks and lets her long legs carry her over toward him, then does just as I’ve instructed. She stands beside him as if she’s waiting for the bartender to notice her empty glass, and as I’ve predicted, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Douchey is already eyeing her up. He’s practically fucking salivating.
He asks her to join him, motioning to the empty stool beside him. Brielle, my good little student, takes a moment to think it over rather than immediately agreeing.
She’s a pleaser, and that’s her problem. I want to teach her to stand on her own two feet, to realize her own worth, and make a man work for her affections. No man wants a pushover. He wants the deep satisfaction that comes from conquering what hasn’t been conquered before.
After a few minutes, she has a fresh drink in front of her, and she’s smiling as she listens to something he says. She’s attentive and interested, but only mildly so. He has to work for it, exactly as he should. I expect Brielle’s eyes to dart occasionally over to mine, seeking approval, or just to check that I’m watching, but she doesn’t look over even once. It bothers me more than it should.
Soon, she’s leaning closer to him on the bar, openly laughing. As I watch them interact, I find myself wishing for something stronger than club soda. She’s just a client, so my reaction is out of place. We hardly know each other yet.
Perhaps that’s all it is—we’ve barely cemented our relationship, however brief it may be, and she’s already off trying to please another man. That won’t do. I haven’t even gotten to sample the goods yet, and there’s no way this douche is going to before me. We have an agreement. She’s mine for six sessions.
Impatiently I watch them, waiting for an excuse to haul her ass out of here.
Her eyes are trained on him, and his hand is at her elbow. She removes her cell phone from her purse, and…the fuck? She’s punching his number into her phone.
I rise and stride toward her, my vision blurred with the need to get her alone. My hand at her lower back surprises her, and she jumps slightly at my touch.
“Time to go, kitten,” I bite out.
She swallows and gives a tight nod, allowing me to guide her from the stool. She doesn’t say a word to the man beside her, but he watches us leave with his mouth hanging open.
I haul her toward the back hallway and stop once we’re ensconced in shadows. Pressing her back to the wall, I pin her there with my hips.
“What the fuck was that?” I growl, well aware that I’ve just dragged her down the damn hallway like some caveman.
Blinking up at me with confusion, she gasps. “I was just doing what you asked!”
She’s frustrated. Good. Welcome to the club, sweetheart.
I take her cell phone from her hand and stare down at it, letting the dissatisfaction I feel radiate from my features. “You took his number.”
“And?”
I lean closer to her face, as close as I dare, so she can feel the wash of my warm breath and smell my scent. “Let the man be the man. He should take your number. He should call you first. He should plan the date.”
Her gaze drops to the floor between us as she realizes her mistake.
I always have three scenarios in mind when going into a lesson. My goal is to push a client outside her comfort level, but depending on how she responds, I have other directions I can take things. Tonight, none of those scenarios accounted for me wanting to put her bare ass over my knee and redden her skin until her hot little cunt is wet, yet here we are. My hand is itching to smack her
ass cheek. I take a deep breath, trying to regain the control I can feel slipping.
“You have one choice to make,” I say, lifting her chin so she’ll meet my eyes. “Decide now. A hotel, somewhere public, or your place.”
The flash of understanding in her eyes tells me she knows this lesson isn’t yet over; it’s barely fucking begun. “My place,” she says, surprising me.
I tug her toward the back entrance where my car is parked. My hand rests on her lower back as I guide her into the frosty air outside.
The need to get her alone and find out what turns her on, what makes her tremble, flares inside me. And the worried, timid look painted across her delicate features only makes me want her more.
Chapter Nine
Brielle
What am I doing?
I barely know this man, and yet I’ve punched my address into his fancy car’s GPS. Now I’m practically trembling in the leather seat as we drive toward my apartment. Other than asking for my address, he hasn’t said a word, and his silence is unnerving.
I grab my phone and send a text to Julie.
Brielle: Shit! I invited him back to my place. Talk me out of this!!
Her reply is instant.
Julie: Go for it, girl!
Not the words of caution I wanted to hear. Then again, she’s always encouraged me to take more risks, so what was I really expecting? I take a deep breath and catch Dom looking at me from the corner of his eye.
“Everything okay over there?” he asks, pulling me from my moment of panic.
“I…yes.”
“Don’t lie to me, Brielle. You’re second-guessing yourself.”
I drop my hands into my lap and stare straight ahead. “Why ask if you already knew that?”
“Tell me why,” he says, his voice firm and commanding.
“It’s not every day I invite a strange man over to my house.”
“I sure as fuck hope not. But you’ve texted your friend that you’re bringing me home, which is exactly what you should do. Just relax, okay?”
