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His brow furrowed, the rage dying back, but the pain still in his eyes.
"It's that simple, then?"
She would have reached up, stroked his head, if she were not afraid any movement would betray her weakness, and she would pull him into her before it was time. Instead, she turned her head so her cheek pressed into his.
"If we let it be. " She eased her legs down a bit, then felt safe enough to stroke through the strands of his hair and run a finger tip along the side of his nose, under one confused eye.
"You're not a Dom, not a Master, Josh," she said. "You've never even been close. You're a submissive.
A gorgeous, incredibly sensual submissive that any Mistress in her right mind would cherish forever. You were doing as your Mistress told you to do, and she used you cruelly. I won't let you blame yourself for anything, Josh, except maybe for not recognizing it sooner, because you are an intelligent man. Your only crime is in denying your own worth, because she made you doubt yours. A Mistress doesn't do that, Josh.
"She stripped you down, made you vulnerable, exploited and brought out the aggression in you that's in all wild male animals," she smiled, raking his bare chest lightly with her nails and enjoying the flare it raised in his eyes, the instinctive jump in his cock that caught her breath in her throat. "But then," she sobered, gentled her touch, "instead of cherishing that vulnerability, turning it into pleasure for both of you, she used it to abuse you. "
"I thought," he murmured, his throat thick, "like you did. I thought it was the games, the games that screwed us up. "
"Games can," she agreed. "You play for pleasure, not for power, but power is such a base element of playing that it's easy to make it go bad, in the wrong hands. But I think. . . " and she thought of Jonathan, and knew her next words were the truth she had been struggling to understand herself, "Dominant and submissive exist in all relationships, whether they role play it or not. What protects people when they play is love, and the trust that comes with it, when it's real. "
A sigh raised and spread that delightful expanse of chest against her breasts, and he laid his forehead down on hers, a gesture of tender weariness that undid her. She stroked his hair, cupped the back of his head to hold him there while she pressed a series of small kisses along his jawline, and her arm crept around him and held as he closed his eyes tightly and the pain shuddered through him and through her, binding them and cleansing them both.
"I'm sorry," he murmured at last, nuzzling her cheek.
"Well, you should be," she slanted a smile at him, her body aching for him, but her heart soothed by the ease she felt relaxing his muscles. "What kind of man treats his Mistress this way?" She traced his bottom lip, "You've been very, very, bad. "
He chuckled, but his eyes were serious as he framed her face in his hands. "You risked too much. I could have really hurt you. "
She shook her head. "I knew you wouldn't. I just knew it. "
"You should have stopped. You really pissed me off. "
"That was the plan. And," she gave him an impish look. "I couldn't. "
He frowned. "Why not?"
She tilted her head up, saw Marcus sitting on the lowest step of the dais and eyeing them with an appealing combination of relief, confusion and arousal. She also noticed he held a police baton in his hands. He had been ready to intervene if needed, if she had been wrong.
"Ye of little faith," she teased.
He rolled his eyes, made a dismissive wave at her. "Not a doubt in my mind," he said dryly.
"Tell him why I didn't stop, Marcus. "
The art dealer sighed. "You never said anything about butterflies, you moron. "
Chapter 19
Lauren could not prevent a reflexive gasp and arch as Josh chuckled, vibrating his semi-erect member against her. His eyes darkened and he moved, just slightly. "Something I can do for you. . . Mistress?"
Her rebellious submissive. She managed a suitably unaffected look, though her body fairly screamed an affirmative answer. "Many, many things. But first, your punishment. Marcus must put you back on that cross. " Her finger traced a path, albeit a trembling one, down the center of his chest, "I intend to torture you. "
"What if I disobey?" he leaned down, bit her throat, and she moaned, gripped his shoulders.
"I would have to punish you severely," she drew the last word out several more syllables than proper English required, as he rubbed his knee along the inside of her thigh. So close. . .
She caught his hair and tugged, hard, eliciting a yelp, and made him meet her eyes. "You will obey me, Josh, because I am your Mistress. Now, get up, and go back to the cross, because I want to see you walk that fine ass of yours back across the room and lick my lips over it. And," she didn't ease her grip,
"you'll straighten my dress first, with your teeth, so you'll smell how much pleasure you bring to me. "
"Cruel bitch," he said, with a smile that trembled at the edges and twisted her heart. He eased up, leaving her missing his weight, but quickly drove that from her mind.
