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“If you check your phone, I’ve had my doctor send my most recent STI test results,” he said as I headed back to the kitchen.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. I don’t want you to worry.” He took a sip of tea and blew out a breath. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
“It’s tea. It’ll be hot for a little while.”
He gave me a look that said,Don’t be a smartass. It made me shiver.
I put in my own tea pod. He watched me do this like it was utterly endearing, or ridiculous. God knew what kind of hot drink setup he had in his fancy penthouse.
“I don’t have a doctor on call,” I said over my shoulder. “And I haven’t been tested in a while because I haven’t been sexually active lately. But I go to my lady doctor once a year, if you want those records.”
He looked bemused. “I won’t requisition your records. You’re too artless to lie.”
I turned to him as more tea spit out of my machine. “What does that mean?”
“You don’t know what artless means?”
I knew what it meant, and I knew why he thought I was that way, but I didn’t know if he meant it as a compliment or an insult. Because Fort St. Clair wasn’t artless. Oh no. He was artful, composed, put together like some luxury watch. I turned back to my tea, but I could feel his gaze on my back.
Once my tea was done, I crossed to join him on the sofa, leaving some space between us for the questions and uneasiness to fit. He put his cup on the table behind him, then reached across the space to touch the top of my knee. His fingers trailed over the place he’d grabbed me last night, lightly, nothing sexual now. He wanted todiscuss things. A future for us, maybe.
Next, he tilted my neck, inspecting the place where he’d bit me, his touch lingering like he might still soothe the pain. “No marks,” he said. “At least nothing obvious. You feel okay?”
“Yes, I feel fine.” I felt more than fine. God, I felt a million things. “How do you feel?” I asked, turning the question back on him.
“Conflicted,” he said, coming right out with it. “Here’s the thing about last night. What I did to you up against the wall in that work room…that was me on my best behavior. That was me being a gentleman.”
“Was it?” I took a sip of my tea now that it was cooler. “It felt pretty nice.”
“I can be worse. I usually am when it comes to sex.”
“Hmm.” I took another sip of tea to process, rolling the vanilla and cinnamon flavors on my tongue. “You mean you can be even rougher?”
“Rougher, colder, more intense. I’m a Dominant, but it’s more accurate to call me a sexual sadist. I like to hurt women and force them to do things for my pleasure. It’s how I prefer to get off.”
“I understand about BDSM.”
He shook his head. “You understand mainstream BDSM, the safe, sane, consensual stuff they do at Underworld. You’re into the romance of it, the slap and tickle to get off. To me, that’s going through the motions. It’s not real. Well, not real enough.”
I met his gaze, wondering what he meant by that.Not real enough?
“It’s hard to explain,” he went on, an edge of frustration in his voice. “Especially to a BDSM baby like you.”
“A BDSM baby?” I protested. “Maybe I’m a mess, but I’m not a baby. I’ve been submissive for years. I’ve done a lot of scenes, experimented with a lot of things.”
“I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to explain. You’ve been with a few Doms, you’ve participated in the lifestyle, but at the end of the day, you’re looking for pleasure, a good time.” He grimaced. “I’m into something different.”
“You don’t like having a good time? How does that work?” I blinked in confusion. “Why do you do whatever the hell you do if it’s not fun?”
“It’s fun to me. Dark fun, though.” He shifted, pushing back his hair. “I do BDSM for the rush and release. I like to push boundaries, and hang out with other people who like to push boundaries. Places like Underworld only scratch the surface of power exchange. I belong to a private club where people…go a little further.”
“So…” I put my tea on the low table in front of us. “This is why you’re not good for me? Your sadism is the reason you believe we won’t work out?”
“It’s hard for me to work out with anyone, Juliet. Except, you know, the women who come to the private club. I can be as rough as I want, as cruel as I want, and they want more.”
I looked away from him, biting my lip, considering how to reply. “Do you think…” I turned back to him. “Do you think I didn’t want more last night? Do you think I responded badly to your force?”
