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Sean hated doms who disciplined their subs emotionally. The whole point of having a D/s relationship was for mutual pleasure and to deepen the emotional bond between the couple. Nothing good could result from insisting on emotional control over another person. Everyone had a right to feel what they felt. “That’s abusive.”
Her shoulders lifted and fell again. “I don’t think he meant to be mean. He wanted me to beg for his time and attention, but I’m just not that kind of pushy, needy sub. I’m sure he’ll find some woman with daddy issues and they’ll get along just fine.”
He let her have the evasion. She’d obviously moved on. Briefly, he wondered who she’d been dating if not Eric. He knew she’d spent several of her days off with a man, and he’d gone out of his way to not be around when her date had picked her up. He hadn’t needed visual confirmation that he didn’t stand a chance in hell with her. Before the demons of doubt could dig their talons in too deep, he ditched those thoughts. She was here with him now, and she had just promised to be his for the next three days.
“Round three.” He stood and held out his hand to her—the first time he’d ever instigated contact. Now that she’d agreed to be his submissive, even if it was only temporary, he could let down his guard a bit. As soon as he had her in his dungeon, he’d be touching her all over. “I’ll bring you to orgasm twice. You’ll have no input into the choreography. Enough talk, Cella. We need to practice if I’m going to know your limits.”
She looked at his hand and shook her head. “I’m not ready, Sean. Give me thirty minutes. I need to shave.”
He blinked. “Shave?”
“Well, yes. I didn’t anticipate being naked in front of anyone today, so I didn’t shave.”
He dropped his hand, a little stung by her efficient, businesslike rejection. However, the image of her naked body tied to his cross more than made up for it. He checked the time on his cell. “Thirty minutes. Come to the dungeon wearing only a robe.”
Chapter Two
Marcella knew from paying the bills that Sean preferred his submissives to be hairless. Though she’d engaged in a few scenes with her dates in the time since she’d ended her relationship with Eric, she hadn’t bothered to shave her pussy in a very long time. It hadn’t mattered before. Now that Sean would be her master, albeit only for a few days, she wanted to groom herself in ways that would please him.
She arranged her hair in a sexy, sloppy upsweep. No matter how classy she made it look, it would end up a mess by the end of the scene. She preferred to enter a scene with some control over her personal disarray. Knowing Sean, it would be the only thing she would control.
The deep rose robe he’d given her as a birthday gift lay at the foot of her bed. Not a day passed that she didn’t snuggle into the soft, silky feel of the fabric. As she donned it now, it slid over her skin, caressing her hips and the tips of her breasts. She tied the belt and headed down two flights of stairs to the dungeon.
She entered his domain, immediately feeling an electric charge at being there to do more than set up. Having worked so closely with Sean for over a year, she’d seen him at his best and at his worst. She trusted him completely.
A sound to her right drew her attention to that corner of the room. Sean leaned against a high table. He lifted a glass to his lips and sipped. Ice cubes clinked as they shifted, and she recognized the sound that had caught her attention.
He watched her silently. She dropped her gaze to the floor, fastening it demurely to a point halfway between them. If he wanted her to kneel, he would tell her to kneel. This moment, this starting point, was a test of her submissiveness. It would tell him so much about her level of responsiveness. She emptied her mind of everything except Sean.
The glass thudded against the wood. He closed the distance between them, coming to a halt inches in front of her. She focused on the thin line of hair that trailed from his navel and disappeared into his jeans. He had removed his shirt. Though she had seen him shirtless before, the sight sent a tremor up her spine.
He placed his fingers on her neck, spanning them just below her ear. Residual cold from the glass penetrated her skin, and a second tremor followed the first. “Choose a safe word.”
“Oasis.” She would forever revere the name of the wish-fulfillment service that had delivered Sean to her. She didn’t know how they’d gotten rid of Gretchen, but they had, and she was thankful for that.
Sean slid his fingers forward to grip her chin. “Oasis. Your favorite band.” A slight pressure tilted her face, and she peered into his eyes. “If you ask me to stop or you say no at any time, those words will also work. I don’t play protest games. That’s one of my limits.”
