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He waited for her to continue.
Hope wrung her hands, as if that would ward off his intensity. “The…” She cleared her throat. “The submissive gets close to coming and the Dom refuses to let her.”
“It can be during a scene, or in general. Even as a punishment.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not into the whole idea of punishment.”
“Even if you do something your Dom has forbidden?”
“Well…” Her tummy quivered. “Maybe. In that context.”
He nodded. “Do you reach orgasm quickly?”
Shame and embarrassment flooded her. Was this the way most Doms seduced their subs? By asking such personal questions? Destroying barriers in his path? Or was this something unique to him? “I…uhm…”
“Floundering won’t save you.”
“I don’t date a lot.”
“Do you masturbate?”
Heat flooded her body. Who the hell asked that kind of question? “Is this—”
“Necessary? Yes, it is. How many times a week do you masturbate?”
Her blood thickened, moving through her veins in sluggish little bursts. “It depends.”
With a touch so gentle it unraveled her, he said, “If there’s a question you don’t want to answer or information you prefer to keep private, say so. But don’t play games. If it’s a question you can answer, do so.”
He was forcing her to confront deeply personal thoughts. “I masturbate several times a week, sometimes more.” Embarrassment danced through her, but she pressed on. “It helps me to sleep. Most nights I take a bath, and then sometimes I…” She tilted her chin back. “Play with myself.”
“Not so difficult, right?”
Not once she’d shed her inhibitions.
“It becomes easier with practice. Honesty about your sexuality makes it easier for you to get your needs met.” He released her wrist. “How do you do it? With a toy? With your fingers?”
“It becomes easier.” She replayed his words for encouragement. “It depends. Most nights I use my fingers. I have a dildo I like, and sometimes I use a vibrator.”
“Are you naked? Or do you slip the toy inside your panties?”
“I’m…yes. Naked.”
“And back to my original question. Do you come quickly when you masturbate?”
Sometimes in less than a minute. “Yes.”
“And with a man?”
“I told you I don’t date all that often.” It was easier to protect herself if she didn’t get too close. “To be honest, as you demand, I’m more self-conscious when I’m with a partner. Shy. Nervous. So sometimes I don’t climax at all.”
“And do you also play with your nipples, or just your pussy?”
Mortification gnawed at her. He expects me to answer that?
With infinite patience, he waited.
“Not my nipples.”
“Show me.”
Perplexed, she frowned.
“Take off your clothes, then lie on the desk and show me how you masturbate.”
She stood there, agape. “Are you serious?”
Lazily, he lifted one eyebrow. “Was there anything in my tone to suggest otherwise?”
Oh. God. No. There wasn’t.
Under his watchful gaze, she released another button. He didn’t hurry her, and he didn’t offer to help. Part of her wished he would—that way she wouldn’t have to take responsibility for what was happening.
When she removed her shirt, he smoothed the material, then draped it over a nearby chair.
Her mind lurching from thought to thought, she reached behind her to unfasten her skirt. She worked the linen down her hips and thighs before letting it fall to the floor. Hope stood in front of him in bra, skimpy panties, and her heels.
“You’re a spectacular woman, Ms. Malloy.”
Even with his words of approval wrapping around her, it took tremendous effort to resist the urge to cover herself.
“Now give me your skirt.”
She did, and once again, he hung it with care. Maybe it was ridiculous, but she drank assurance from that, as if his actions meant she could trust him.
“I’m waiting.”
After unfastening her bra, she rolled her shoulders forward to lower the straps.
