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A breath trembled out of her, telegraphing her desire for that, too. In the shadows, his pupils had expanded, making his eyes darker. He took his hand out of her pocket and slid it lower on her buttock, fingers pressing between her legs from behind, so she made another little whimpering sound as arousal rippled out from that touch.
“I wish we’d had a place and time for me to shave you a couple days ago, so I could do more with fire between your legs. But we have all the time in the world.”
“Um…when we were at Mick’s, you said you’d like to do that. I know you said you wanted to do it, but I thought…”
“Did you remove the hair yourself, Les?”
She moistened her lips. “I did. On Monday. It felt a little wicked to do it on Easter Sunday.”
“I don’t mind my sub being a little wicked. I don’t think God minds, either. Did you remove all of it? Even between these luscious ass cheeks?” He squeezed her, harder this time.
“I did. Is that okay?”
She’d been looking for a Q-tip to apply her makeup when she saw the barely used tube of hair removal cream. It had probably been there since before she left for college. Maybe even from that time she went swimming in the creek in the bikini Brick had talked about.
Seeing it there had planted the idea, and it had helped that she had a half-hour on her own. Brick had been at the firehouse, and her mother was with her garden club. Otherwise she might have been too self-conscious about taking the extra time in the bathroom to let the depilatory do its work.
“Yes, it’s okay,” he said. “Doing it without my permission, when I wanted the pleasure of doing it myself the first time, goes on the list. But it won’t be a bad punishment, since you were anticipating your Master’s desires.”
He nodded toward the hallway again. “Go take care of the shower. Be thorough, but don’t linger. I expect you back here, sooner than later. Bring me a brush. I’m the one who will braid your hair.”
He caressed a strand between his fingers. “If you think you’ll get cold, grab a robe from the prop area. You won’t wear anything else, though. Except the necklace.”
She felt his gaze on her as she moved down the hallway. While she was gone, she was sure he’d check what Julie had left him, making sure he had what he needed, to play and to keep her safe.
Knowing that made it easy to go out on a ledge with him, trusting he wouldn’t lose his footing. He’d never let her fall. Like in The Greatest Showman, Phineas and Charity dancing on the rooftops, her leaping onto the ledge and leaning out over empty space, sure that his hand would close around her wrist, hold her suspended like a bird in air before twirling her back into his arms.
Julie had told Les fire was the greatest danger to a theater. One of the biggest start-up expenses for Madison, the owner, had been the fire-treated stage curtains Julie had adamantly insisted upon. It said a great deal about Julie’s faith in Brick, and therefore Madison’s, that they trusted their beloved theater to him.
When she reached the room, she saw Julie had already been aware of her needs. She’d picked out a robe and left it draped on the bed. The garment suited the occasion perfectly, even as it made Les’s cheeks pinken. It was sheer, a shimmering white with lace at the front edges and on the draped sleeves.
She removed her clothes, folding them up and leaving them on a chair by the bed. The little room reflected Julie’s personality, with theater photos mounted between hand-applied swirls of blue paint against the white walls. A vanity with a bulb-framed mirror matched the lighting for the room. A dozen round lights were suspended on cables, like bubbles floating in the air.
She noted a trio of ropes coiled on crystal doorknob hooks. Each rope was a different color; red, black and purple. She imagined Julie in the bed, Des’s hands moving over her, tying intricate designs, binding her…
If she didn’t hurry, her Master would come after her. And add to that darn list. Though it was starting to appear that she didn’t mind purposefully adding to it.
Brick might be right. She had some brat to her. But if she did, he brought it out in her. It was okay to be naughty and break the rules with him.
After the quick but thorough shower, she dried herself off with the clean towel. It was still a new feeling, her sex being bare. The day after she’d done it, she’d worked at Dr. Spring’s clinic. Every movement made her aware of the smoothness of her mound and lips of her sex beneath her panties and scrubs. She’d used a cream to soothe the possibility of abraded skin, then and with last night’s shower. She needed to let Brick know, in case that was problematic, even after her thorough rinse.
Using a brush she found on the vanity, she combed out her wet hair, just to smooth it for Brick’s ministrations. When she slipped on the robe, all her nerves responded to the silky fabric, her skin eager for touch.
Carrying the brush, she padded back up the hallway, feet bare on polished dark wood. As she predicted, Brick was doing his final checks, arranging things as he wished. She noted something on the cross that hadn’t been there before. A set of cuffs, dangling on short chains. There were also tube-like things attached to the table.
Her Master was shirtless, wearing only his jeans, broad shoulders gleaming under the light. Everything inside and out tightened. A feeling that increased as he turned and saw her.
The fabric flowed against her thighs, her peaked nipples. When she reached him, she followed the same compulsion she had only a few days before, only the circumstances now were far different.
She knelt at his feet. When she lifted her head and offered the brush, she drew in a surprised, soft breath.
If there was an expression on a man’s face that said, “You are everything I want, everything I have ever wanted,” she was certain she was seeing it now.
He’d told her she was the submissive he wanted, not just for now, but forever. She would be his wife, no matter how long they needed to wait. Though she had believed him about ninety-nine percent, that last percent now joined the rest. Bringing along a thousand of its friends.
“On your feet,” he said, a rough growl.
She obeyed. He took the brush and pointed her to a folding metal chair he’d opened and sat near the table with the mat. A towel was draped over it to keep the seat warm. He knew when to be kind, and when to make her suffer.
