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Sweet lord, she never felt more beautiful in her life. It buoyed her, making the muscles in her back ache a little less, the rough wool of the rug no longer digging quite so painfully into her skin. She almost felt like she was floating.
Clearing his throat, he continued in a stronger voice. “Now be a good girl and listen. As already agreed, when we’re at the Manor, we’re colleagues, nothing more. But when you’re in this house, you will wear my collar and call me either Master or Sir—your choice. You belong to me when you’re here. Completely. There are no breaks. We’ll never reach the end of a scene and then carry about our day. From now on, from the moment you step through the front door to the moment you leave back through it, you’re mine to do with as I please.”
Holy fucking fuck. If she didn’t figure out how to breathe soon, she was going to pass out.
“However.” He stared into her eyes, ensuring he held her complete attention. As if she’d ever be able to concentrate again after what he just said. “The decision about if and when you come here, and when you leave, rests entirely with you. I will never force you. I will never coerce you. My hand may hold the whip, but you hold all the power. Do you have any questions?”
Forcing the haze of lust to stop clouding her mind, she considered everything he said. Giving the laden ottoman a pointed look, she asked, “If something is too much for me, how am I supposed to get up and walk out if I’m restrained?”
“I apologize,” Mason said, his even tone not matching the intensity in his eyes. “I realize I didn’t explain that as well as I should have. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. If something makes you uncomfortable or goes too far, use your safeword. We can adjust and continue until you’re ready for me to take you back to the Manor, or an hour before check-in on Sunday evening, whichever happens first.”
Relief flooding through her, she let out a small sigh. The way he described things, it had sounded like she wouldn’t have any sort of safeword at all. Like she would need to endure whatever he chose to do to her, or admit defeat and go home unsatisfied.
But this...this sounded like all her darkest, most delicious fantasies come to life.
“Would you like to choose your own safeword?” Mason asked.
Her mind instantly went to the bright red feathers of the injured bird she saw that afternoon. “Cardinal.”
The hard features of his intense Dom look slipped for a moment, but he hid the rare show of mirth instantly. “Cardinal it is. Do you understand and agree to these rules?” She opened her mouth, but before more than a syllable came out, he added, “Including proper form of address?”
There wasn’t any chance in the world she’d say no. “Yes, Master.” Her eyes widened as soon as the word slipped out. She’d intended to stick with sir, but something about master just felt so fucking right.
When the air left his lungs on a harsh exhale, his eyes boring into hers, it solidified her decision. “I like the sound of that in your voice.”
Blushing, she admitted, “So do I, Master.”
One corner of his mouth lifted into the merest shadow of a smile. “Then let’s begin.”
CHAPTER 8
Mason
From the moment Addison slammed a door in his face, Mason wanted to take her over his knee. He spent the last week fantasizing about it far more than he’d ever admit to another soul, and he refused to rush it now that the moment had arrived.
Her gaze tracked him as he made his way leisurely around the ottoman, picking up his half-empty duffel bag and moving it over by the door. Then he settled on the sofa and surveyed the tools of his craft laid out before him. Where to begin.
Making his selection, he met her gaze and ordered, “Crawl to me.”
Her whole body flushed with excited pleasure as she tipped forward onto hands and knees. Addison kept her back arched slightly as she crawled, her eyes locked on him the whole way. Christ, she was stunning. Her full lips in a slight pout begged him to kiss her senseless. Her breasts looked like they were mere seconds from tumbling out of her sexy little bra, one large, rosy nipple already peeking over the edge of the sheer fabric.
And of course, the flare of her hips and that perfect fucking ass. It was made for spanking. He had no doubt about that.
When she finally knelt up at his feet, he hooked a finger through the O-ring on the front of her collar. Not pulling her toward him, but holding her still. Letting her know he was in charge of everything she did, up to and including when and where she could move. “I’m going to punish you now. I think we both know you’ve earned a long, hard spanking.”
Disappointment flashed through her eyes, there one second and hidden the next. Clearly, she had other activities in mind. “As you wish, Master.” Though she tried to hide it, there was a trace of displeasure in her voice, too.
“You thought perhaps we’d begin with something a little more fun?”
Her gaze skittered away, and for a moment, he suspected she intended to lie to him again. But he heard the truth in her words when she said, “I’m all for spanking, and obviously I’ll do whatever you tell me. I just...I didn’t realize we’d start with an actual punishment.”
He watched her closely, noting the slight tensing of her muscles, her hands wringing in her lap, the furrowing of her brow. The way she sucked her lips between her teeth, trying to stop herself from saying more. “Look at me.”
It took a few seconds, but she managed to meet his gaze.
“Do you think you deserve a punishment?”
“I—I don’t know?” At the last second, she turned it into a question.
