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He wouldn’t let her get away with not answering, she was sure of it. After a deep breath, she pulled herself together and said, “You have a hard hand, Sir.”

Chuckling, he ran his hand down her hair, tenderly, as if it would make up for the other pain he caused. It didn’t. “I know you’ve played with canes, but I’m not the kind of guy to jump into that. I need to know your pain tolerance first. Not to mention, I call the shots here. Not you. I don’t tolerate topping from the bottom.”

“But, Sir . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m so good at it.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it. But that’s what frustrates you about other Doms, isn’t it? They let you get away with it. You know deep down inside, that’s not really what you want.”

She kept her gaze on the floor to keep him from seeing the truth in her eyes. No need to show him everything all at once.

But he wasn’t having it. With his hand under her chin, he lifted her head so she had to look at him. “Am I right?”

Their gazes locked. His blue eyes seemed to search her, pull answers from her without her permission. Shit. She was used to building walls, and here came Ambrose, looking in the window. He wouldn’t let her hide.

She nodded, feeling warm and safe for some reason. Maybe, just maybe, he could really handle her. Was it too much to hope? To trust?

“Good girl.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Her muscles turned to Jell-O, making her want to melt onto the floor.

“Now let’s go back to the beginning.” He let go of her face then folded his hands together. “Tell me, brat. What was that naughty thought you had earlier?”

Rolling her eyes, she asked, “I’m supposed to remember that now?”

“Yup. Do you need some inspiration to help you?” He started to pull her back over his knee.

“No

!” She struggled and he let her go, smirking the whole time. Bastard! Pouting at him, she said, “You said you wanted to know what a sub wants and feels. Well, I thought in my head, I wanted to feel you inside me.”

He stared at her for a long time. It was supposed to be a joke. He wasn’t laughing.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Really?”

“It was an errant thought. And meant to stay in my head!” She gave him her best evil glare.

In less than a second he had a handful of her hair tight in his fist. Wrenching her head back, he growled, “Don’t you glare at me.”

“I wasn’t!” she cried. “That’s just my face!”

A laugh burst from his mouth then echoed in the room. She almost smiled. He shook his head. “You are really asking for it, girl.”

“Nooo.” It came out whinier than she’d meant. “I’m sore already.”

He released her hair and she rubbed her aching scalp. God, he hurt her so good.

“So you want me to fuck you?” he asked, as if they were negotiating where to eat for dinner.

Was fuck yes too desperate? “If that’s what you want.”

He sucked in a breath. “You have no idea.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Everly shivered at the intensity in his eyes, like he was fighting with himself and losing. Maybe she’d jumped the gun when it came to propositioning him.

He cupped her jaw in one hand. Was he trying to get her attention? He already had all of it. “I want you to go fetch your toys. Everything you own. Bring it all back here and put it on the coffee table.” When he let her go, she almost expected him to snap his fingers at her, but he didn’t. The silent snap rang in her head though.

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