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My palms are sosweaty I almost drop the mug when the barista hands it to me over the counter. She rolls her eyes like I’m a complete idiot as droplets of my precious caramel macchiato splash over the side of my cup and onto my fingers.
I’m not sure if I’m nervous because I’ve never pre-negotiated sexual intercourse before. Or because it’s Thor. Or because it’s been so long since I’ve had something inside me which isn’t made of silicone, and I’m afraid I’ll forget how a penis works and what to do when there’s a man attached to it. But my palms are sweating.
Thor’s already sitting at a table, casually slouched back in his seat, ankle of one leg resting on the thigh of his other, glasses perched on his face. He’s turning pages of a book, the cover of which I can’t see from here.
He’s wearing another jeans-and-tee combo that poorly hides his well-defined muscles. His brown hair hangs loose, framing his face, looking so silky that my now-sticky hands are itching to glide through it.
I’d never even consider it if he had curls, but it’s bone-straight, looks like something out of a hair product commercial. At least three people have swooned in his direction since they walked in.
When potential suitor number four walks in in five inch stilettos and a pencil skirt and beams in his direction, something warm flickers in my chest. He’s here to talk to me, about rocking my world for a night. That feels kinda nice.
I’m not sure he’s spotted that I’ve arrived, he’s too engrossed in his book to pay attention to his surroundings. Either way, I steal another long, intense look at the beautiful, reading man before I approach his table.
“Addison.” His face lights up as he lowers the book to the table, not pausing to place a bookmark, or—gag—turn down the corner of the page he’s on like a sociopath. How will he remember where he is in the book?
He slips his English-professor-hot glasses from his face, folds them in slow motion, and puts them on top of the book. I feel like I’m in some kind of romantic movie where the heroine sees the hero in painfully slow motion and thinks damn near everything he does is erotic.
I’m not normally this one-track minded. I was an important person, in a big-business industry. I created fashionable masterpieces for some of the top fashion houses in the country despite not living in a major city like New York. And now, I’m staring at this big-ass hunk of a man like he’s a prime steak and I’m some brain-dead sex-crazed lunatic.
I feel like one.
He stares back at me with a lop-sided smile. Kicking out the chair across from him, he gestures at it with his chin. “Are you going to negotiate while standing? Or would you care to take a seat?”
I’m a certified idiot. Dropping onto the chair, like I was going to do that regardless of whether he suggested it or not, I place my mug on the table in front of me. I’m not letting this delicious man throw me off guard.
Okay. Fine. I’m not letting him throw me anymoreoff guard.
We sit in amicable silence for a moment. I pretend I’m not staring at him, and that I don’t notice the attention of the women in the cafe on him. While I can’t blame them, he is breathtaking to look at, it makes me uncomfortable.
He takes a sip of his frozen coffee. I’m not sure what it is, but some kind of syrup trickles down the outside of his reusable cup, and when his tongue snaps out to capture the sweet liquid, I melt in my chair. Can I pretend my clit is a coffee cup just so he’ll flick my bean just like that?
“You want to start?”
No. No, I do not. But I’m not backing down from this challenge, even if it’s outside my comfort zone. “I’m not an experienced submissive.” I clear my throat, reaching a finger to the rim of my mug for something to do. Following my finger around the lip of the mug with my eyes, I keep going. “But I know what I like. My ex was... well, he wasn’t a dominant, but he was into stuff. And being friends with two submissives, I’ve learned some things.”
“Like pre-negotiations.”
I nod.
“Paige is a switch.”
I nod again, swallowing down the retort bubbling at the back of my throat. Have they slept together? As though reading my thoughts, he continues, his facial expression unreadable.
“She comes to the club. I pay attention to the bands people wear.”
I’m not sure if he’s making my bubbling jealousy better or worse, but I appreciate the effort.
“So you’re not vanilla, but you’ve not yet joined the dark side.” He ponders this for a moment while I take a sip of my drink.
“Will that be a problem? I know you tend to sleep with people in the lifestyle, so I won’t be offended if that’s not okay for you.” It’s true, I won’t be offended, but I’ll be disappointed as fuck. Paige gave me the full rundown on him again this morning while I stared at my closet. He’s a one-and-done guy, not a happily ever after kind of guy.
Shaking his head, his light brown locks swish back and forth. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem. But we’ll need to be very clear on what kinds of things you’re interested in doing, and what your hard limits are.”
“Just how adventurous are you planning to get with me, Thor?”
“Just how adventurous do you want me to get with you, Addison?”
