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“You think you could teach me to behave? I don’t know.” She arched her back, which made his gaze go directly to her cleavage. “You seem too nice. I’d probably walk all over you, and the next thing you knew, you’d be begging to be my slave.”
Sassy girl. She needed a few of his handprints on her ass.
“I could teach you to behave, Trouble,” he growled.
Bravado apparently forgotten, Kate ducked her head, but not before he saw the pink in her cheeks.
And not before he’d needed to fight the urge to kiss her pretty mouth.
Chapter 3
“You were a bad girl,” the man with the baritone voice said.
Her knees trembled as she took a step backward.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She looked left then right. How had they ended up in a concrete, windowless room with no door? A bed appeared behind her. The backs of her legs rubbed against it.
She gulped. Trapped.
“Bend over the bed, little slave.”
The command in his voice made it hard not to comply. Shaking, she turned around and gazed down at the pristine white bedcovering. She could feel him move in behind her. His body brushed against her back, setting every nerve on fire. Chills raced up her spine. Her knees felt like buckling, but she stayed standing, hesitant to make herself more vulnerable to this stranger.
He shoved her, and she fell forward, landing on her stomach over the bed. Then she was naked. There was something wrong here.
She looked over her shoulder. He lifted his hand, showing her a big, peeled ginger root. His grin was unnerving.
Then she was in his head, watching her from his point of view. Her eyes went wide with fear. A whimper escaped her. She felt the adrenaline shoot through his veins.
He let out a deep, sinister laugh, and she hid her face in the covers. Fear warred with excitement. As creepy as it seemed, she wanted this.
Holding her down with his giant palm on her back, he placed the ginger root at her back entrance. A scream tore from her lips.
Kate woke with a start. Panting, she sat up and surveyed the room in a panic. What the fuck? Light blue walls, a familiar dresser across from the bed, and a flowered quilt covering her legs calmed her pounding heart. She was home. No dungeon, no evil laughter, and no figging.
“Fuck,” she mumbled. Her breathing slowed. She checked the clock beside her bed. Five o’clock in the evening. Only an hour ago she’d laid down for a nap, trying to get rid of a migraine. She must’ve really needed it.
She took in other details now that she’d calmed down. Daylight was fading. Her stomach was empty and starting to growl. But more disturbing was the stirring the dream had left between her legs. It’d been a long time since she’d used her vibe. Her panties were wet and her clit throbbed. From the figging dream?
Ugh. There was something wrong with her. She groaned. Banner would be there in half an hour, and she still needed to get dressed and should probably shower this dirty feeling away. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to soothe herself. It only made it worse.
W
ith a sigh, she checked the clock again. If she used her fingers, instead of searching for the vibrator, she could probably go pretty quickly.
She snaked her hand down her belly then underneath her cotton panties. For her, orgasms were more about the mind than anything physical, and Banner had given her imagination plenty of fodder.
She closed her eyes as she parted her lower lips and found her clit. A faceless man in a suit beckoned her from a chair. She glided to him, wearing a school-girl uniform, then stopped between his open legs.
“Kneel,” he commanded.
She sunk to her knees. The faceless man was replaced with Banner. His stern eyes stared her down until she felt like a little girl, helpless, willing to do anything to please her Master.
A moan slipped free from her lips as she swirled her finger into her wetness, and then circled her clit.
The man—no, Banner—grabbed a handful of her hair and tilted her head back. “What do you have to say for yourself, slave?”
