AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He turned her around to face him, though his hands remained on her hips, holding her. "You asked what kind of Dom I am. Spanking's not my thing, or putting a woman in a collar."
"Oh."
He rubbed his jaw against her cheek, his eyes close to her face. "You're sounding disappointed," he teased her in a husky voice.
She pushed half-heartedly at him and he drew back, taking her hand once more, continuing their stroll. Julie wondered if she was as flushed on the outside as she felt on the inside. "Running a theater, bringing a production together, that's your thing, right?" he asked.
"Yeah. Yes."
He stopped, showing her a tiny cluster of orange orchids, none bigger than her thumb. "The mice of the orchid world," he observed before continuing. "You understand theater in and out. It's your passion, your heart. It's become your bible, in the sense that you can use it to center yourself, to interpret all sorts of things in your life. Rope is my passion for the same reasons."
He touched her neck, brown eyes turning rust and gold from the sunlight coming through the glass ceiling. "I can tie you up in ways that will leave marks on your skin for days. I can put you in a harness that keeps your hands and arms free, that you can wear under your clothes, but while you have it on, you'll feel completely restrained, captured. I can make it real clear I'm in control. When you're in my ropes, with a little twitch or tug, I can take you to orgasm. Or I can make you feel the burn, the pain. You'll be begging for forgiveness the way you would in a spanking...all while being wet and hot and wondering if I'll let you go before I fuck you, or if I'll take you while you're bound like that."
When he stroked her mouth, making her lips part, he was reminding her to breathe. She'd stopped.
"Hypothetically speaking, that is," he added, straightening. "I wasn't directing that at you specifically...unless you want me to do so."
Her hands had dropped to his hips as he slid his palms slowly up and down her upper arms. She would have punched him for picking at her, but he wasn't unaffected by her reaction. He was logging and absorbing it. Wanting to drive it, just as he'd described.
"And if I do?" She dared to ask the question.
He shot her a look that stilled her racing thoughts. Everything around them had gone behind a curtain, leaving them center stage.
"Then that opens a whole different dialogue between us," he said.
She started walking again, feeling the need for some space, some sense of control. She wanted to make sure she could walk without his direction. He could take her over so easily. It was terrifying as a drug. "You do really unique small talk," she said as he caught up to her, walked at her side.
"Well, these things keep a conversation lubricated. Only thing worse than a dry fuck is small talk."
She choked on a laugh at the crudity. He took her hand again, squeezed it. "Let's ease back some and I'll tell you stories about the origins of these orchids. The depth of botanical trivia I know will send you into a coma of boredom."
"I did all sorts of menial labor to get a foothold in the theater world. Your flower trivia would be amateur hour."
"Well, since you've given me a challenge..."
He was as good as his word. Not the boredom part of course. He could read the phone book and she'd hang onto every word. But he kept things relaxed and friendly, the intensity of those earlier moments gone like they'd never existed, except they felt imprinted on every inch of her body and her lightly throbbing wrist.
She was still reeling from it, even after they concluded their tour, had soup and a sandwich from the cafe, and he was walking her back to her car. Stopping b
y her door, he turned her to face him.
"Did I answer your question about what kind of Dom I am?"
"You did." She wasn't sure if 'thank you' was the appropriate response. She was wondering if he was going to kiss her, like at the end of a normal date. Nothing about this felt normal, and she meant that in the best way.
"You said when we met yesterday you'd be interested in letting me demonstrate my rope technique on you," he reminded her.
"I think you may have just done that. I'm sold. If ever you change your mind about performing, you have a slot. As far as the consulting you offered, if you give me your email, I can send you the specifics on who will be doing what for the show. You'll want to--"
"Stop." Des touched her shoulder. She realized she'd placed a hand on his chest when she'd turned toward him, and was worrying the button of his shirt. He closed his hand over hers, glancing down at it. "Julie, I want to come see you later this week. I want you to experience what I do. I want to see you decorated in my rope. Is that what you want? Yes or no."
"I don't know." She drew her hand away, stepped back. "Yes. Or rather, I'd say yes if I knew it could stay manageable. If it won't be another great experience that will end up crashing and burning."
His gaze softened. "Your honesty is heartbreaking, love. Okay, let's do it this way. It's a session, like you'd experience in a club environment. We'll set ground rules. Helping you understand what will be happening on your stage is the biggest part of it. All right?"
So you're going along with my farce to get your foot in the door. We'll both fake it and pretend it doesn't mean anything, because we both know I can work with that.
Snarling at herself for being a smart ass, she tilted her head in a stiff nod. "Okay. Uh...what should I wear?"
