Page 7 of In His Cuffs

If she was smart, she’d tell him no. She shouldn’t want this, him. But every nerve ending zinged. Desire won the battle over common sense. “Yes.” She nodded.

Desire seemed to flare in his eyes, widening them. “Good,” he said.

He released her and stepped back.

She was grateful for the physical space. This close, she noticed how male he was, sexy, sensual and threatening.

“Any hard limits?” he asked.

This part of a negotiation was familiar, and she relaxed into it. She was good at asking for what she wanted. “No blood, edgeplay, permanent marks.”

“How about formal protocols?”

She’d had enough experience to know that Doms differed on what that meant. But in this setting, since they weren’t a couple, she doubted he would ask for anything she’d find objectionable. “If it suits you, I’m okay with it.”

“We’ll observe some, but I don’t require strict adherence. I want you to communicate.”

She nodded.

“What are your limits around humiliation?”

“As long as I’m not left alone for long periods, I’m fine.”

“I won’t leave you alone, ever. If you’re suffering for me, I want to watch and enjoy every moment of it.”

There was something about the huskiness in his voice—part promise, part threat—that made her tremble. She looked at him. The set of his jaw emphasised the seriousness of his words.

Maggie would have never suspected she’d willingly experience anguish for David Tomlinson, even offer herself to him, but in this moment, there was nothing she wanted more.

“And suffer you will, Maggie,” he promised.

Chapter Two

Maggie froze as David reached forward to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

His gesture was tender, a contradiction to what she knew lay ahead.

“Your wristband indicates you’re open to having sex, but given the nature of our relationship, I think we should discuss it.” He lowered his hand to trace a finger around the top of her collar.

Goosebumps ran up her arms. His touch was a distraction, and his question loomed large. She considered her answer.

She’d have to face him on Monday morning and every day for over a year. Maggie hated awkward emotional entanglements, so she’d never slept with anyone she worked with. She also knew she could compartmentalise with the best of them. “We’re both adults,” she said. “If the scene leads to sex, and it feels like a natural progression, I’m sure there won’t be any repercussions.”

“I want to be very clear about this.” He slid his finger beneath the collar. “You’re open to it?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“I can fuck you as hard and as long as I want?”

The words, so raw, natural, caught her off guard. “I thought you were a House Monitor. Don’t you have things you need to do?”

“I’m off duty for the next two hours.”

“Master Damien agreed to that?”

“I asked for three. We compromised at two.” With his fingertip, he drew her a little closer.

“Pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “No one can sustain a scene for that long.”

“We’re wasting time. Anything else you want to discuss before I take you downstairs?”

“Ah…” The moment was here. It was real. And she really had no doubts. “I’m good.”

He waited a few seconds before nodding. “In that case, let’s get to my rules.”

Maggie laughed a little. “I knew there was a catch.”

“You’re comfortable calling me Mr Tomlinson, you can use that in addition to Sir.”

She scowled. She used Mr Tomlinson to drive distance between them, not as a term of respect. Calling him that would alter their dynamic. “Well played,” she said.

“Any objections to that?”

“No.”

“I expect straightforward communication and honest answers to any questions I ask.”

“Sounds fair.”

“If you’re ready, I think it’s about time to get on with it.”

She nodded.

“Please respond verbally.”

“Yes.”

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