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Her chest tightened. She felt so lost. She wanted to make things work with Ambrose. He had so much potential. Why was he avoiding playing with her? Did he find her ugly? Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back.
In a last-ditch effort to save the night, she blurted, “Do you have a dungeon?”
“Huh?” Ambrose muted the TV show.
“Do you have a dungeon like Banner’s?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You think you’re ready for that? It’s only been a month.”
She grunted. “I’m getting older every second. A month is long enough. Take me to your dungeon.” With a leer, she added, “Unless you’re scared.”
He laughed. “Banner warned me about your bratty streak. Lucky for you, I happen to like brats.” Sighing, he put the soda down, shut off the TV, and stood up. “Come on then, girl. Let’s go to the dungeon.”
For once, she wished he’d make her eat her words. A rush of excitement tore through her. Now she’d see what he was really like. They could test their connection and maybe, finally, she could get Banner out of her mind.
Ambrose’s house wasn’t as artsy as Banner’s. She could tell he lived comfortably by his giant TV and sound system, but he didn’t have style like Banner did. He took her through his dining room and into a room at the back she hadn’t seen yet. It was set up like an office, but there was an area off to the side with furniture she recognized. A coffee table with restraints dangling down and an O-ring hanging from the ceiling. A cabinet stood against one wall and an oversized couch was on the other wall.
“My dungeon is more like a playroom,” he said. “And it doubles as an office. I don’t have a big basement like Banner.”
She peered around, taking inventory of the items she liked. “It’ll do.”
Ambrose laughed. “It’ll do? Don’t you know talking about a man’s dungeon is like talking about his cock? We’re prideful folk, even in the kink world.”
“Well, I have yet to see your cock or maybe I’d have more compliments.”
He barked a laugh. “Sassy girl.”
Then do something about it, she wanted to scream.
She sashayed across the room, hoping to entice him with what Banner had thought was her best asset—her ass. Was Ambrose an ass man? It was hard to tell, since he hardly ever touched her.
“So, have I been naughty enough?” she purred.
“For what?”
Really? Playing coy, she shrugged. “A punishment.”
“Nah. You’d have to be much worse for that.”
Ugh! The man was impossible. What would he do if she just stripped right there, right then. If she stood here naked, then bent over the couch, showing off her clean shaven legs and pussy? Would he be able to resist?
She was almost brave enough to do it. Except that if he didn’t touch her, if he ignored her, it would hurt her already fragile ego. It made her wonder about Banner. He’d rejected her too. He didn’t want what she had to offer, which wasn’t twenty-four-seven slavery, but it was submission and devotion and maybe even love.
Her eyes watered. What was she doing there? Why was she putting herself through this hurt and humiliation just for some kinky sex? She could find a nice vanilla guy who never made her feel this way—unwanted. Rejected. Maybe the kink world wasn’t for her.
Her eyes stung from trying to hold back her tears. Feeling as though she might burst into deep sobs that left her even more humiliated, she looked for a quick escape.
Ambrose watched her, hands in his pockets, looking no more interested than when he had been watching the documentary about ants.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she choked out.
He nodded, and she barely managed to leave the room before the first tear fell. In the bathroom, she cleaned her face then texted Janine.
I need death by ice cream, posthaste.
She texted back right away. I’ll meet you at your place in 30 minutes.
Thank you.
