Page 16 of The Dom with a Safeword

Sabrina spun, putting her back to the wall so fast she slipped off her heel and toppled all the way into the closet. Her heart raced and her clit throbbed. What the hell? Why was she turned on by this?

Q laughed and took the crop from her hand. “No? You’d probably like it.”

Yes. She squeezed her eyes shut. What? No! No, no, no. She was not a freak. Not like Q. A delirious giggle escaped her. She opened her eyes to see Q staring at her in question. “I just called you a freak in my head.”

Q took a step toward her. “Don’t count yourself out of that number so soon, little girl.” She swung the crop twice, smiling when it whistled through the air then placed it back on the shelf.

What would that feel like against her skin? On her ass and thighs? She could almost feel the sting as it slapped against her flesh. She felt herself clench…down there. She was getting wet. Was this what had been missing from her sex life all this time?

“Here.” Q placed a pair of leather cuffs in her hand. “What do you think of these?”

She turned them over. The leather was soft but strong. The silver buckles made them look industrial but still sexy. “Um.” She cleared her throat. “They look very…well-made.” She tried to hand them back but Q had turned away.

“See anything you like?” came a deep voice from the hallway.

Shit. She scrambled out of the closet with her hands behind her back, feeling like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Jude stood, arms crossed, in the hallway.

“It was her idea,” Q said. “I tried to stop her.”

Sabrina could’ve kicked her. “Traitor,” she hissed with a glare.

He took several steps closer, a stern set to his jaw and a determined look in his eye. Now why did that fill her with dread at the same time as making her flush with excitement?

He put out his hand as he stared at Sabrina. “Bring them here.”

Instinct had her moving toward him before logic kicked in. Why was she obeying him so easily? She did Q, most of the time, but that was because Q had proven she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently all Sabrina needed was to hear a stern tone and she turned into a puppet. How annoying.

He kept eye contact the entire long-ass journey from the closet to where he stood. When she gingerly placed the cuffs in his hand, he looked at Q. “Do you know how these work?”

Q looked a little less affected by his presence but still nodded obediently.

Gaze back on Sabrina, he said, “Would you like to see?”

The challenge in his voice had her stumbling for a reply. A simple no would do. But she waited too long. His mouth shifted the tiniest bit – like he’d assessed her and found something he liked.

The tension in the room cranked up a notch.

“Give me your wrists,” he demanded.

She hesitated, looking to Q for help. Her eyes were locked on Jude. Sabrina’s silent pleas went unanswered. Some friend. Where was that damn stick when she needed it?

His voice drew her back. “Afraid I’ll trap you in my sex lair, Jersey girl?”

Hmph. Not one to back down from a challenge, she slapped her hand into his. With a smirk, he wrapped the first cuff around her wrist. He took his time fastening first one then the other securely, buckling it, searching for the right hole to slide the metal tongue into. His expression remained focused but every once in a while he looked in her eyes, as if checking her reaction.

Her heart thudded in her ears. Swallowing was suddenly difficult. Each touch seemed electric – sizzling across the sensitive skin on her wrist. Her eyes fluttered closed as she soaked in each feeling. Hard, uncompromising cuffs, callused but gentle hands. The sensations blended together and put her in some kind of mind-numbing haze.

She realized he’d stopped touching her and popped open her lids. Jude was there, his lips quirked up in an amused but sexy smile. She looked down at her bound wrists – one cuff on each, with two buckles fastened, and a length of leather hanging off each. She could tell the two could connect if he chose to buckle them together – or onto something, like a headboard or railing. An image came to mind – her tied, spread-eagle, to a bed, Q stalking around her like a lion assessing tasty prey. And damn if she didn’t get wetter.

She gave her head a shake and twisted her wrists this way and that. Funny how her movement wasn’t constricted yet they still made her feel trapped – in a deliciously exciting way.

“So…” she said, forcing herself to speak matter-of-factly and not betray her arousal. “You do this to women then?”

“I do. When they want me to. I don’t lure young women who don’t want it.” He gave her an ironic grin. That deep male voice, right there and up close, did such nice things to her insides. “But you…” He traced a finger along her bottom lip. “You look like you need it.”

Q appeared beside her. “If she says yes, you have to share.”