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“Only if I let you,” she retorted.
“Precisely,” he agreed. “Consent is the name of the game in D/s. Always.”
He allowed her to lead him to the door. Resisting the urge to take her into his arms once more, he instead planted a kiss on the top of her head, said good night, and stepped out into the corridor.
As the door closed softly behind him, he allowed himself a sigh, part regret that he hadn’t let things go further, part relief that he’d managed not to.
~*~
After Hayden left, Dahlia sank back to the couch, legs sprawled, head back against the cushions. That was, without exception, the weirdest, and the most exciting, erotic experience of her life. She still couldn’t quite believe she’d gone through with it. Nor was she entirely sure how she felt about it. What was wrong with her, that she had gotten off on standing naked with her hands on her head like some kind of suspect, while a guy sat there listening to her share a sexual fantasy she’d never admitted to another soul?
She felt daring and scandalized in equal measure.
While she was delighted she had passed the test, what did her reactions to the intense session say about her as a woman? How could she possibly reconcile what she’d experienced with her sense of self?
It was too much to think about. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but still jittery with excitement and pent-up lust. Why had she let Hayden go? She should have taken back the reins, ordering him to strip and service her, or get a good, hard spanking.
Just the thought made her laugh aloud. She could not imagine Hayden submitting to her or anyone. It just wasn’t in his DNA. Nor did she want that from him.
What did she want?
She snorted, annoyed with herself. Could she turn off her damn analytical brain for once in her life?
She rose from the couch. Another glass of wine and a nice hot bath should help her unwind. Grabbing the rest of her clothes, she headed to the bedroom. After dropping her things, along with the sweater, onto the bed, she went into the tiny bathroom.
Leaning over the freestanding claw-foot tub, she fitted the plug, turned on the hot water and poured lavender bath oil into the water. Returning to the living room, she snagged her wineglass, draining it as she headed to the kitchen.
She poured herself more wine and carried it back with her to the bathroom. Setting the glass carefully on the ancient linoleum floor beside the tub, she climbed in and eased into the hot, fragrant water.
Reaching for the wine, she lifted the glass to her lips, taking a long sip. Leaning back with a sigh, she slid her hand into the oily water and slipped it between her legs. Closing her eyes, she imagined Hayden cradling her from behind in the tub, his hands roaming over her body.“You belong to me,” he growled, his hand closing around her throat.
A deep, pleasurable shudder moved through her and she let out a soft moan. Sinking deeper in the water, she imagined her fingers were his. They were on the bed now, she splayed naked in front of him. He loomed over her, his cock fisted in his hand. His eyes flashed with power and lust. “You’re mine, Dahlia. I own you. Offer yourself to me. Spread your legs and beg me for it.”
Fingers flying, Dahlia cried out, coming faster and harder than she ever had in her life.
“Wow,” she exclaimed when she could catch her breath. “I wonder what’ll happen on theseconddate.”
Somehow, she got through Saturday, glad for the distraction of the usual frantic errand-running, bill paying, grocery shopping and housecleaning she reserved for the weekend. She was glad Hayden had warned her he would be at the hospital all day, so she didn’t obsessively check her phone for a text or missed call.
She considered calling her best girlfriend, Naomi, to parse every moment of the date, as she normally would have done with a new guy. But each time she picked up her phone, she put it down again. While her friend was aware of Dahlia’s love for BDSM romance novels, Dahlia wasn’t sure she could explain what had happened the night before in terms Naomi could understand.
Shit. She could barely understand it herself. Her internal jury had deliberated overnight, and several members were now questioning her sanity.
Had she, Dahlia Simon, MD, accomplished surgeon, feminist and fiercely independent woman, actually let a guy direct her to refer to him as “Sir” and strip naked for him while he remained fully clothed, just watching?
Where was her dignity, her pride, her boundaries? It was as if he’d woven some kind of dark spell around her, getting her to do things that made her blush, even now.
No matter what he claimed, he had to be judging her now. Did he feel smug and powerful that he’d gotten her to reveal so much of herself while sharing very little in return? Had he been quietly making a fool of her? Would he laugh about it later with his Dom buddies at his secret club?
No. It hadn’t been like that. And Hayden wasn’t like that. He’d been as affected as she had by the bizarre “session,” as he’d called it. So why the radio silence today? Yeah, she knew how insanely busy you could get on call for the hospital, sometimes not even getting a chance to pee or finish a cup of shitty coffee until hours later. But still… couldn’t he have found ten seconds to shoot her a quick text?
She considered sending one to him. After all, she was just as capable as he of picking up her phone. But she decided against it. He’d been the one to leave her so abruptly. Let him be the one to contact her first.
At 10:45 that night, her phone finally pinged.
Hey there. Hope you’re doing well. You were AWESOME last night. Sorry took so long to get in touch. Been at the hospital since 7:15 this morning. Non-stop crazy. Look out for a special delivery tomorrow. XXXOOO.
Not exactly a gushing declaration of love, but she wouldn’t have wanted that anyway. Guys who moved too fast in the romance department had always made her nervous. She reread the text, paying more attention to the words. She thumbed back a reply.
