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“Understood,” he acknowledged. “We’ll discuss everything as we go.”
His presence filled the room.
Hope moved past him to lock the door. Uncertain of what to do next, she allowed her shoulders to collapse against the wall as he turned to face her.
More than ten feet separated them, yet goose bumps danced across her skin as if he’d touched her.
“Take off your blazer, Hope.” His words were soft, more inviting than commanding.
She nodded.
“I like the sound of your voice. I like to hear the catches, the breathlessness, the roughness, your hesitation, your fear.”
Riveted, she looked at him.
“When I give you an order, I want to hear you say, Yes, Rafe. Or even better if you say, Yes, Sir.”
Calling him by the honorific would make this moment even more real. She pondered his request while he waited. Finally, softly, she said, “Yes, Rafe.”
“That sounded sweeter than I could have imagined.”
The tiny taste of his approval made her yearn for more.
“You’re making me very, very happy.”
She pushed away from the wall, then shrugged out of her jacket.
“Hang it up.”
She was beginning the slide toward submission. He’d made simple, ordinary requests, and she’d obeyed.
“I didn’t hear an answer,” he prompted, and this time, his words were an intimidating purr.
“Yes, Rafe,” she whispered desperately. “Anything you say.” He’d demanded she talk to him. Her verbal acquiescence was part of the spell, a web that wrapped its inescapable silken strands around her. She hung the jacket on a nearby coatrack, then faced him, unsure.
He studied her, as if memorizing every detail.
A little unnerved, she covered her bare arms with her hands.
“Don’t hide. I always want to see you. The parts you love, the parts you don’t. I want your vulnerabilities as well as your strengths. All of you.”
“You’re asking a lot.”
He was crossing an invisible line, one she’d drawn years ago to keep people—men—from getting too close. With a few words, he’d stated his intention of demolishing it. It made him more than scary. It made him dangerous.
“I haven’t even begun.” His words were a promise, buried beneath a warning. “Drop your arms.”
Her safe word lodged in her throat. This was madness.
He hadn’t asked her to do anything that made her physically uncomfortable, but the emotional implications terrified her.
Even though the silence stretched, he didn’t repeat himself, waiting for her decision. Then, because it was inevitable, she lowered her arms.
He exhaled. In that moment, she realized how important this was for him as well. The knowledge fed her courage.
“Now unfasten the top button on your blouse.”
It was too much to hope that he’d do it for her. Part of her wanted him to sweep her off her feet, do terrible things to her, and allow her to abdicate the responsibility. “Yes, Rafe.” Her fingers shook a little as she complied.
“The second, please.”
His gaze holding hers captive, she followed his order.
“Part the material.”
She exposed her chest, revealing her cleavage and the lace outline of her bra.
“So obedient. Now come to me. I can’t wait much longer.”
With each step, her pulse accelerated. She wanted to please him, wanted this adventure, no matter where it led.
When she was in front of him, he asked, “On my list, what things intrigued you?”
Her insides rocked as if she were on a boat out in the middle of the ocean, away from any sight of land. “I think I might like to be restrained.”
“Like with handcuffs, behind your back?”
“Or…”
“Nothing you could say would shock me.”
“Yes. Or with a tie.”
“Excellent. What else? Surely something intrigued you?”
Hope took him at his word, that he couldn’t be shocked. “Orgasm denial.”
“One of my favorites.” He grinned.
His expression faded so fast she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. As he’d promised, he didn’t appear surprised. Happy, maybe. But not shocked.
“Did you look it up?”
She recalled pictures of submissives who looked frustrated, one a bit dazed. She’d read accounts of how a Dominant had frustrated a sub for an entire week. The sub had said thoughts of sex dominated her days and that she’d climaxed in her sleep without touching herself. Hope wasn’t sure whether that was fact or fiction. But she’d clicked through a half dozen similar stories. “Yes.”
