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“Fine.” She tossed herself onto the mattress and sat against the pillows, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Thank you. Now hold your arms up at your sides.”
Her dark eyes flashed suspiciously. She narrowed them as if trying to guess his intent. Finally, she complied, holding them straight out from her shoulders, almost as if opening her arms to him…but not quite.
Jason reached behind his headboard and plucked at a padded wrist cuff, attached to an adjustable chain, then secured it around his wife’s wrist.
Gasping, she drilled him with a shocked stare. “What the hell?”
“We are now sceneing. What should you call me?”
“What the hell, Mr. Denning?” she snarled, jerking her free arm down to her side.
He grabbed it again and brought it to the other cuff. Gia fought him, and Jason dug deep for patience. “Give me your wrist or use your safe word. It’s divorce.”
“You’re being a bastard, Mr. Denning.”
“Well, we can’t all be angels like you. Since opposites attract…” He gave her a tight smile. “In case you’re wondering, I’m not offended. Much meaner people have called me names far worse. Are you saying your safe word or giving yourself over to me?”
The fight left Gia. She lifted her hand to him.
“Just to be clear, you’re choosing to give your power to me, yes?”
“Yes.” She gritted her teeth. “Mr. Denning.”
Even though she’d given him the green light grudgingly, satisfaction still rolled through him. For the first time in nearly a year, he would finally have the gratification he’d craved—and he intended to take it. “Excellent.”
Wrapping his fingers around her forearm, he aligned her wrist with the cuff and snapped it in place. Now she was beautifully at his mercy.
“Are you uncomfortable physically in any way?” he demanded.
“No.”
“Do you have anything you want to say before we get started?”
“No.”
“And your safe word is…” he quizzed.
“Divorce.” Gia sounded as if she worked hard to shove down her anger.
It couldn’t be greater than his own, and he’d get to the bottom of hers when she felt more amenable to conversation. For now, he had something else in mind to remind her once and for all of the way a Dom/sub relationship worked.
“Good.” He reached into his nightstand and pulled out a sleep mask. It worked wonders when he needed shut-eye on bright Texas mornings…or when his surly little sub needed an attitude adjustment.
When he lifted the mask to her eyes and fitted the Velcro strip behind her head, she gasped. “Jason, no.”
“Excuse me?” He injected sharp rebuke into his voice.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Denning…”
Now she sounded breathy and afraid, and he backed down immediately. Cradling her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to her ear. “I’m going to take care of you.”
She sucked in a shaky gulp of air. He could almost hear her mentally reviewing the months they’d spent as Master and slave, remembering all the ways he’d seen to her well-being then.
And slowly, her frozen muscles melted a bit. “Thank you.”
So she hadn’t forgotten the manners he’d taught her when playing with him. He smiled.
