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“Why not?” he asked, arching his brows in surprise. “They’re expensive designer things, right?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “All of them. I spent a small fortune on those clothes, shoes, and handbags. It’s just…”
As he drilled me with an expectant stare, the corners of his lips twitched. Without a doubt, Grant knew why I didn’t want them. He was simply waiting for me to figure it out for myself.
Brows furrowed and lips pursed, I lowered my chin. As I stared at the little pink flowers adorning the sundress I’d picked up from a quaint little clothing store in Richardson, it suddenly dawned on me.
“Go on. I can see it in your eyes…tell me, little one.”
“I’m not her anymore,” I said, pointing to the suitcases. “Everything in there isn’t…me.”
A wide, blinding grin lit up Grant’s face as he dragged me flush against his chest before suddenly turning serious. “I was afraid this was gonna happen.”
“Afraid ofwhat?”
“Afraid once I introduced Central Park South Emma to Wally World, you’d never be the same again…and you’re not.”
Grant struggled to hold back a laugh, but failed miserably.
“Oh, you are so…grrrr,” I grinned, swatting his shoulder and trying to wiggle out of his grasp.
“So what?” Grant challenged.
“Evil.”
“Evil, huh?” he repeated with a dirty grin.
Without warning, he lifted me off the floor and tossed me over one wide shoulder. I let out a surprised yelp, then giggled and kicked my feet as he carried me up the stairs…playfully swatting my ass. I squeezed and groped his butt cheeks, laughing like a loon as we went.
“I’ll show youevil, my dirty, little slut,” he growled.
His hot breath skipping down my thighs sent a shiver racing up my spine.
As he turned and entered the bedroom, my laughter withered to a whimper.
Since returning from New York, Grant and I had spent many nights sipping wine on the front porch, discussing the lifestyle…and ways it could encompass our daily life.
While Grant’s Dominance was hard-wired into him—something he couldn’t turn off and on like a light switch—my submission was new. I didn’t know yet if it was hard-wired inside me, too. When we talked about a twenty-four-seven Dom/sub relationship, it sounded spectacular…at least, in theory.
After spending my whole life being controlled—albeit in a non-consensual way—the thought of conforming, day in and day out, to someone else’s wishes again…even Grant’s, left a sour taste on my tongue.
When he explained his job, as my Dom, was to provide for and protect my emotional, physical, and mental well-being…before his own, he promised never to lock me in another gilded cage. Grant wanted to give me the freedom I’d never had growing up, freedom to spread my wings and fly. He wanted me to explore the world and experience the satisfaction of making my own choices. But mostly, he wanted me to grow…to know and love the woman inside me as much as he did.
I was, and discovering so many new things about life and myself was beyond glorious.
But even more glorious was the decision we’d made together. Inside the bedroom and at Club Genesis, Grant was my Dominant and I was his dirty, little slut.
Before he’d even hoisted me off his shoulder, I closed my eyes and let the seed of submission unfold like a lotus blossom within me.
The instant my bare feet sank into the carpet, I dropped my chin and lowered to my knees in front of him. When Grant dragged in a deep, ragged breath, in my mind, I saw his chest expand and his nostrils flare.
Simply hearing him breathe had me wet, throbbing, and aching to please.
“Stand and strip, my sassy, succulent slut.”
His hot growl slid over me. Goosebumps peppered my flesh as I quickly rose and yanked the sundress off over my head.
Raking a hungry gaze over my nearly naked flesh, Grant’s stare stilled on the scrap of white lace between my legs. He licked his lips, sat down on the edge of the bed and widened his thighs. His cock was already straining inside his jeans as he crooked his finger, silently motioning me closer.
