Want to Go Private

Want to Go Private? M.A. Ellis Obsessed with exploring the kinkiness she buried years ago, Isabel starts to imagine that the sexy, biceps-to-drool-over bartender at her favorite pub is dropping hints about bondage. But fantasy suddenly becomes reality when she finds herself draped over the bar, wrists tied to the beer tap, begging for release. Chris has an uncanny knack for sensing when one of his customers might be down with a little discipline and a lot of submission, and he suspects Isabel is primed for both. When he overhears her plan to hit a new round of dating sites, he’s forced to make his move and uses his talents as a BDSM blogger and chat-room Dom to his full advantage. From bar to blog to bedroom, Chris employs tricks and toys to help Isabel recognize the undeniable truth. He’s the only Dom she’ll ever need.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Want to Go Private? ISBN 9781419935374 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Want to Go Private? Copyright © 2011 M.A. Ellis Edited by Pamela Campbell Photography and cover design by Syneca Models: Omar and Shannon Electronic book publication October 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.

WANT TO GO PRIVATE? M.A. Ellis

Dedication To the Florida contingent—too many to name, but you know who you are, which parts you played keeping me on track, and the places you all hold in my heart.

M.A. Ellis

Chapter One What were the chances? Really? With the sheer number of single males populating the various dating sites the girls had urged her to join, what where the chances Isabel would throw in her parameters and he would show up on her top-ten, most-compatible list? She looked at his picture, a stance so relaxed it almost bordered on cockiness, not sure whether to click on his profile or not. Was there a chance he wouldn’t remember her? She highly doubted that. James, god rest his soul, had paid triple to protect their anonymity. She remembered how the man had tried to maintain a cool demeanor when her late husband had placed the envelope of crisp hundred-dollar bills in his hand, but she had seen the miniscule lift of his brow, the undeniable sign of surprise. No. Despite the passage of time, he couldn’t have forgotten the weekend he had spent on the Cape, tutoring her and fulfilling one of James’ whims. Isabel sighed. The past three years seemed like a lifetime. At the less-than-advanced age of thirty, she had been truly fortunate. Her whirlwind romance, the dream wedding, the jet-setting lifestyle, the adoration on a daily basis. It had all been wonderful until one tiny skin imperfection had turned into something much, much worse. The weeklong getaways to exotic locales were replaced with hours in the oncology ward coping with treatment after treatment. Until it became quite clear the man who ruled more than a few private worlds and whom her universe revolved around, wasn’t going to win what he jokingly referred to as the “hostile takeover”. He had always said she had been his rock. Not even as she’d stood at his graveside and watched the shiny mahogany coffin lowered into the ground had she crumpled. He had made her promise she wouldn’t grieve more than half a year and, at the time, she readily agreed for his benefit. They’d never been traditional in any aspect of their

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relationship and she thought it would be reasonably easy to honor that request, as it had been to acquiesce to others, but it hadn’t. With his death she’d had a sudden need to latch on to some semblance of normalcy. To revert to the somewhat conservative manner in which she’d been raised, convinced that was how things should be. What type of man would actually be able to understand her periodic desires without considering her a freak? Or worse? After a few months navigating through a series of free dating sites, an effort that resulted in less than a handful of winks and nods, here she was. Considering a premier venue that one of the women on the Arts Council had suggested, she’d expected to find an unending array of men like her late husband. Corporate giants. Men who wanted beautiful, accomplished hostesses on their arms and in their beds. Gentlemen with multimillion-dollar net worths. Not that she needed that. James had left her excessively well-off. But she needed companionship. Someone who could carry on an intelligent conversation. Someone normal. What she found instead was the impetus of a distant, buried memory. A temptation of sorts. An extremely dominant male in sheep’s clothing. Three years ago it had been Brooks Brothers. From his profile pic, today it was Affliction. What she hadn’t listed as one of her online “wants” was a dominant male who wasn’t a total prick. But that one trait had been rolling around her mind more and more often of late. She liked to chalk it up to months without sex, but in the dead of night, when her body hummed with sexual frustration, she knew it was more than the physical act. Watching had been James’ turn-on, not hers. As a loving wife and grateful partner, she had played along with his suggestion. But that weekend had shown her what she truly craved—a short period of freedom from her responsibilities. It had forced her to give up her control. And the man staring up at her had provided just that. “Dear god.” She minused down the current screen in an attempt to effectively block his image from propagating another round of forgotten fantasies. It really was getting beyond ridiculous. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head, heat

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flooding her cheeks despite the fact she was totally alone and sitting in bed. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she should be at the kitchen counter scoping out her online options, not lying between two layers of eighteen-hundred-count, Egyptian-cotton sheets. The kind that felt way too good when a girl shimmied out of her tank top and panties and tossed them to the floor, the top sheet offering just the right amount of softness and friction as she snaked her hand between her thighs and gently brushed her clit. “Shit! The kitchen it is,” Isabel groaned. She moved her laptop, tossed back the sheet, swung her feet to the floor and headed toward the door. She should just forget about the “kink factor” as James had called it. She told herself it was the stereotypical masked bad-boy image that beckoned her, that had sparked the embers of remembrance, but it wasn’t that. It had been the feelings that she was struggling to keep locked away that had her thinking he could make all her desires a reality once again. And when he was through, she could turn her attention back to an average man. But you don’t want an average man. An average man isn’t going to satisfy you in the long run, Izzi. The prudent thing to do would be to block him from her online profile. If he had been interested, he would have contacted her. And she wasn’t about to chase him. Her once-low self-esteem had risen to a level that would never allow that. But was a simple email considered pursuit? Her mind was telling her it most definitely was but the little pulses between her thighs made it hard to ignore her baser instincts. She could ask the girls…if she wanted them and everyone else they would immediately text to know exactly whom she lusted after. There would be absolutely no chance at a nonchalant inquiry. Her friends were way too sharp for that. And one of them, only one of them, knew not only her secret, but how to read Isabel like a book. Maybe it was time for a male perspective. Not on the whole bondage thing but the manly point of view where first contact was concerned. She picked up her phone and checked the time. Two hours before she was to meet her two best guy friends at On The Left to watch what would hopefully be a victorious game four for her hockey team. She

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could grab a shower now and be there super-early to snag their favorite seats at the bar. The guys undoubtedly expected that anyhow. They both possessed the propensity toward fashionable lateness, which most people found a giant pain in the ass. But Isabel had learned tolerance. Oh, she’d definitely bust their balls. Then she’d swear them to online-dating secrecy and pick their collective brains. She was fairly certain they wouldn’t be proponents of her succumbing to what might be construed as begging for a date, no matter how much they thought she really needed to get laid. And there would be the usual cougar comments, although she was pretty certain a difference of three years didn’t warrant that moniker. But since her husband’s death, she did tend to be drawn to younger men. The girls found it completely acceptable. Sam and Stanley, not so much. Isabel believed their attitudes had something to do with brotherly instincts. Both had come from families with no daughters and loved the idea of having a surrogate sister. They all but glowed when she asked for a male opinion and swore it proved she wasn’t a total brainiac. She smiled and headed for the bathroom. Despite all the obstacles and unknowns that had been thrown her way over the past few years, of all the things that had tested her strength and resolve, one thing was quite certain—she was a smart woman. If they thought she should go for him, she would. Smart women could always manage to have things on their own terms. At the end of the day she wouldn’t settle nor would she be used. At the end of the day, she’d find the man of her dreams.

***** Chris Greene’s sonofabitch of a day suddenly became brighter as a familiar scent drifted across the bar and wound its way downward to where he was wrestling with a hex nut in the sink. He usually hated the way the overhead fans forced the amalgamated aromas of sweat, cologne, hair product and perfume his way. But every now and again he got a little reprieve from the horrific blend. As he did now. He heard the scrape of wood against tile, not having to think too hard to imagine the way Isabel’s pert breasts would be giggling, just a little, as she situated her body on 9

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the barstool. Let the other guys drool over the DDs or bigger. Give him just a handful of all-natural boobage and he was a happy man. “Hey, Chris. How goes the battle?” He grinned at her tone. She was undoubtedly in guys-night-out mode. She was more relaxed, less classy…but not in a morally lax sort of way. Gone was the higher pitch to her voice that was generally present when she was listening then imparting advice to her girlfriends’ tales of woe. Body language was one thing, but it was his experience that voice idiosyncrasies were way more telling. Deciding it was past time to call the owner of the bar and let him get in touch with a real plumber, Chris stood and met her gaze, returning her wide smile. “How’d you know it was me, Izzi?” Had she been with her girls, he knew she would have responded with some tasteful comment about how fine he looked bent over. He’d caught on to her various personas months ago and he honestly enjoyed all three of them. The one she used when she was out with her friends and was expected to be mildly flirtatious, the one she adopted around her guy pals and the one he’d been privy to only once. The one he had fixated on. The one where her guard was dropped and her true emotions were right there in her pale-green eyes for anyone who cared enough to notice. And by his account, few of her friends really took the time for that. They liked her, no doubt about that. Some even loved her. But he doubted that any of them could sense just how conflicted the woman truly was. Then again, none of them had spent years behind a bar learning to read people like the open books most of them were. “Shoulders every guy would die for and a butt any woman would covet. Who else but you, Atlas?” He laughed and leaned forward to facilitate her now standard kiss on the cheek. She’d come up with her pet name for him during the last Super Bowl when he was trying to maneuver through the line of women waiting in the narrow hallway for the restroom. 10

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Holy shit! Atlas has nothing on you! she’d said, eyes wide as they darted from his arms to the keg he carried on his shoulder then back to his eyes. He’d offered her a quick wink, something else that had been standard on his part, but was now reserved for her. Part of him wanted to fuck her that day, but getting to know her on a friendly level from across the bar had made her so much more appealing. And sexy. So had the fact she never came in with anyone except her girls or her two guy friends. “You here for the game? Meeting up with Siegfried & Roy?” “You’re so bad,” she replied, leaning to one side to hook her purse under the bar. Clothed in her lucky long-sleeve T-shirt, it was a cleavage-free night but that didn’t quash her sex appeal. He’d seen enough nipple slips and beaver shots to last a lifetime. What he fantasized about these days was the woman who was once again upright, and perusing the bar menu as if she hadn’t read it hundreds of times before. She looked at him over the upper edge, all but her eyes hidden from view, and a stab of desire rocked him. He cleared his throat, trying to push the image of her on her knees, staring up at him with exactly that expression, to the recesses of his mind. And if she were just on her knees, his cock a millimeter away from her mouth, that would be fine. But in his mind, she wasn’t just kneeling there with her hands resting on his knees for balance. No, her hands weren’t free. Not by a long shot. “Do you have a sore throat?” she asked in a genuinely concerned voice. “This backand-forth change in the weather is really wreaking havoc with people.” “I’m fine. What’re you in the mood for?” he asked in an unintentionally husky tone. She dropped the menu and gave him a puzzled look. He waited, forcing himself not to shift his feet or offer up one of his teasing winks. “I…um.” A slight tint crept up her neck and into her cheeks. “I don’t know. Good judgment, maybe. A little profound advice. The ability not to take my friend’s innocuous words as innuendo?” She forced a laugh and Chris shook his head, not ready to let her off the hook just yet. He liked the way she looked with a little more color in her cheeks. She was 11

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apparently a bit more tightly strung than he had realized if an innocent enough comment made her think naughty things. He wasn’t averse to her mind taking that path. “What makes you think they weren’t intended as you took them? Maybe for once, I’m in a flirting mood.” “Men like you don’t flirt,” she offered, reaching for the menu again. “Not with women like me.” “Don’t we?” Chris replied, opening his hand wide and forcing the menu she’d been studying flat against the top of the bar. “No,” she quickly replied, sitting up straighter as she stared at his splayed fingers before looking him square in the eye. He didn’t miss the way her pupils enlarged, or the slight hitch in her breathing, but the rest of her features remained completely controlled. Which was so fucking hot he wanted to wrap his hand in her hair and force her head backward. “Then tell me. What do we do?” He shifted forward and held her gaze, knowing full well she’d be the first to look away. Women usually did. “You guys kick ass and take names,” she said. “So, we like a little control. Is that a bad thing, Isabel?” He waited to see her response. To both the “control” comment and the use of her real name. He’d suspected for quite some time she was the perfect candidate for engaging in a little D/s experimentation, but as the saying went, he never shit where he ate. And while he’d love to get her alone and see if his suspicions were based in fact and not a figment of his kink-ridden imagination, he wasn’t about to break his personal rule of patron-topartner initiation. That wouldn’t end well from an employment standpoint. But he had some other irons in the fire, ones he thought were going to pay off if the rest of the free world would just admit they liked a little “slap my ass” after they shut off their Fox News.

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“No. It’s not a bad thing at all,” she finally replied before blinking and breaking eye contact. It took a moment for him to backtrack to the initial question. His question. The one that had to do with the issue of control. Her girlfriends talked a good game. They might be down for the occasional untutored spanking, but that’s where it would end. He’d be willing to wager that Isabel was different. The beauty of it all was he knew the words to listen for. The subtle phrases, whether practiced or genuine, that alluded to an interest in things just a little less mainstream. “Hello, beautiful. You been here long?” Chris shook his head as Sam Henderson jogged across the floor and wrapped his arms around Isabel from behind. He’d seen the two embrace dozens of times in just the same manner but today, with Sam’s arms resting just above her breasts, Chris had a sudden urge to whack the geek-in-a-god’s-body across the room. “Hey, Sammy.” She tilted her head back to await his kiss and Chris focused on the column of her neck, knowing full well she’d be very discerning about what she would allow to encircle her pale skin. Diamonds and platinum, without doubt. Leather and Drings? Probably not. Not yet. But maybe for the right Dom. “Hey, Chris. How’s it goin’, man? What put that I-need-to-bang-that grin on your face?” “Just thinking of your newest sister-in-law, bro. She and Luke were in here the other night. You guys sell your souls to the devil, or what? Only explanation for women wanting your scrawny asses,” he teased. The laugh he got in return was genuine. “Brave words, brother. All the way around. I’m the only one in the family who realizes you don’t have to have arms the size of smoked hams to be strong. Chicks dig the lean look.” He looked at Chris’ biceps and

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grinned. “My condolences, dude. I’m sure there are some biker mamas who’ll still find you doable.” “Right,” Chris laughed and looked at Isabel. “You waitin’ for the last member of the triumvirate or should I put your order in now? It’s probably going to get busy.” “He’s five minutes behind me, so now’s good,” Sam interjected. “We’ll take two fifteen-piece wings. One medium, one hot and two brews. What’re you having, babe?” She gave him a condescending look he failed to notice then glanced down at the menu once more before meeting Chris’ gaze. “I’ll have the Italian beef. Side salad instead of fries, no dressing. And tonight the check’s mine.” “No way—” “Can it, Henderson,” she said sternly. Chris didn’t miss the way Sam gave her his full attention, or the look of bewilderment on his face. His entire family wasn’t used to being put in their places. It was a sight to behold. “We’re celebrating, so I’m buying.” Chris went to the cash register to punch in their order but covertly watched them in the mirror, easily eavesdropping. “What’s going on? You know I hate looking like a kept man.” “You always have to bring that up, don’t you?” “You’re the hottest older broad I know. Even hotter than Luke’s babe, and she’s pretty fucking smokin’ if you crave a little more to hold on to.” “Which you do.” “Which I do,” he readily agreed. “So are we celebrating women with perfect asses?” “If she were, it’d be because you’re at her side,” Chris interjected, unable to let a prime opportunity pass as he placed their napkins and silverware in front of them. Isabel laughed and Sam flipped him off.

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“We’re celebrating the fact that by the time I leave here tonight, I’ll be back out there. Navigating the dating waters. And you and Stanley are going to help me figure out exactly what I want. Exactly what I need.” “I thought that’s what your GFs were for,” Sam stated in a worried tone. “They’ll just tell me what they think I want to hear. I want a real opinion. I want you guys to tell me exactly what you look for and what you want. Because I’m not sure I want to go with the same-old, same-old. I think I need something different.” “Holy shit.” Sam echoed Chris’ words in perfect unison and they stared at each other in disbelief. “Thanks, guys,” Isabel said with a totally faux pout. “Love the vote of confidence.” “Screw the beer, dude. Give me a double Maker’s, very little ice.” “Right,” Chris replied, relieved to be heading toward the far end of the bar. He hadn’t expected that sort of revelation from Isabel tonight. She’d been online for months and somewhere in the back of his deluded mind, he thought he’d have more time to figure shit out. To find a way to test the proverbial waters that could very well be a relationship with the extremely intelligent, undeniably sexy, possibly kinky Isabel Hall. Keep it together, dude. He was good at thinking on his feet. Always had been. This wouldn’t be any different. He’d listen, he’d review, he’d implement. It was that simple. He turned and saw the animated way her arms were moving and the pinched expression on Sam’s face. Not good. Not good at all. “When you get done adoring her from afar, can I get another Guinness?” Chris turned toward the man sitting at the curve of the bar and grimaced before grabbing a pint glass and reaching for the tap. “Mind your own business, Larry.” “Man, what you’re thinking is business. You’re undoubtedly going to be like everyone else and hit me up for a private room before it’s all over. If you can convince

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her to take that itsy-bitsy step to the dark side. My benevolence is starting to wear thin, my friend. I ought to be charging all my cronies double, for fuck’s sake. But she does have a great profile. Can you imagine the perfect downward slope of jawbone if she had a wiffle gag strapped around the back of her head?” Chris slammed the drink onto the cardboard coaster with enough force that pale foam sloshed over the side of the glass. “I don’t need running commentary on your particular perversions.” “Perversion has its merits. Ask my crazy ex-wife and the sales associate who just sold me my Bentley. You gotta check it out sometime soon. Sweet little ride. Purrs like a kitten…or a completely satisfied woman. So what’s the plan? And it better be something good because the other half of her pals-with-penises contingent just walked in. He’ll have her on the path to an older, rich husband and ironclad pre-nup before you can say ‘tie me up and call me Nancy’.” “Shit,” Chris muttered, watching as Stanley Hemple walked up to the bar. “Can denied orgasms and vibrating nipple clamps really compare to Veuve Cliquot and weekends at the governor’s compound?” Larry whispered. “You know he’s going to tell her to screw whatever site she’s thinking about and go for the one where she can hook another fat-cat millionaire. And old Stan being a financial advisor—” “How did you know she’s talking dating?” “All-but-empty bar and voices carry. Especially hers. She’s got that no-nonsense thing going most of the time, but when she laughs, man, that’s so real it makes you smile. Makes a part of you want to see her responses to other shit, doesn’t it?” Chris stared into the man’s knowing blue eyes and didn’t say a word. “In my opinion—” “Which no one really needs,” Chris interrupted, wanting to move back to the other end of the bar to hear what Stanley was about to contribute to the conversation.

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“You need to work that online-dating angle she’s going on about, but in a totally different way. Now wouldn’t it be easy if she just took the plunge and checked out the latest advice on MySecretMaster? You’ve met plenty of blogging babes on there who were searching for a means to experiment.” “That’s the difference, Larry. She’s looking for a date, not a Dom.” “Possibly,” he said, raising the glass to his lips. “Probably,” Chris replied. “But you’re getting that vibe. I can see it in your eyes. Enough that you’re considering enlightenment scenarios that will no doubt have you whacking off in the storeroom before the evening’s through.” “Give me some credit, man. I’d at least use the handicap stall.” Chris chuckled, ready to put an end to their conversation and head back toward Isabel. “Have you really tried to see if she harbors a need for something a little less vanilla?” “What am I supposed to do, Larry? Use my ninja-like skills and slap a pair of restraints on her while she’s holding the menu in front of her face?” “Well, that would be less than subtle, which is probably the approach I’d tend to use,” he replied, pretending to give the idea a modicum of thought. “But if my ass were behind the bar, I’d make a comment about her watch or bracelet as I reached over and touched it. Right before I took both her wrists in my hands and gave them a nice firm squeeze. If she yanks her hands away, you’ve got your answer. If not…” The implication hung there as Larry took a healthy sip of his beer and wiggled his brows. “I’ll figure out something else,” Chris replied, glancing toward the three people at the other end of the bar. “Sam would be the obvious person to help me, but he’s trying to keep his proclivities to himself.”

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“I’m aware,” Larry said. “But he and your girl are pretty tight. If you tell him the truth, that you’re a mild-mannered bartender at night, ringleader of the Master blog by day, he might lend a hand. He knows you’re not into the crazy shit. The two of you have been in the same viewing rooms more than a handful of times. Your kink of choice is obviously similar. That’s if you trust him enough. And if you really think she might be looking for something different. With someone other than him.” “I trust him. And one thing I know from all these months of standing across a bar from Isabel is that she doesn’t hook up with her guy friends. And she’s got a ton of them.” “But does she consider you one?” Larry asked, standing. “Maybe. She should. I’ve never once hit on her.” “Of course you haven’t. Here.” Larry shifted his weight and took his wallet from his pants, flipped it open and handed Chris a business card. “Just in case you don’t have any lying around.” “You carry my blog card with you? I’m touched, Larry.” “Oh you’re touched all right. Aren’t we all? Give me ten minutes and I’ll have a few others with guys’ names, guys who don’t have jack shit going for them in the looks or ambition department. Guys who will make a surly bartender, who’s basically lying to the woman he’s attracted to just to get her near him, look like the catch of the century.” “You’re a good friend,” Chris replied, sticking the card in his back pocket. “I’ll work on a way to slip her the card.” “Don’t worry, I’m an idea guy, I’ve already figured that out. But if you end up with her hot little ass over your knee, you’ll owe me.” “Frightening thought,” Chris mumbled. “Just give her the assortment of cards I collect when she’s getting ready to leave. Tell her you overheard her recent plight and wanted to help by grabbing some contacts out of your Rolodex.”

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“I don’t have a fuckin’ Rolodex, Larry. Those disappeared somewhere in the eighties. Probably around the same time people considered your matchmaking methods normal.” “Whatever. Just hand over her change with the cards, tell her you thought of some guys she might want to check out, say goodnight and walk away. Easy as all get-out. She’ll find the one for your blog when she goes through them and, if she’s a closet sub or Domme, the very least she’ll want to do is sign up for your blog out of sheer curiosity. You have to approve your minions, don’t you?” “Yes.” Chris knew exactly where the plan was headed and he begrudgingly admitted it had merit. But it sounded way too easy, which experience had taught him was never the way to go. “It only works if she actually logs in.” “That’s right. So you’ve got to do some masterful weaving of bondage innuendo into your conversation tonight. Pull that off with her two sentries over there and you’ll climb a couple of rungs on my that-dude’s-fucking-amazing ladder.” “And isn’t that what I’m living for,” Chris said, picking up the familiar glossy, black card. “That and pussy,” Larry replied, standing up and looking around the room. “Plump and glistening and ready to be teased.” “It’s not just—” “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before. Whatever you have to tell yourself, man. Whatever you have to tell yourself. Me, I’m a realist. I’ll be back in a few with your red herrings.” Chris watched him walk toward a patron who was the main organizer of a social activities group and strike up a conversation. Larry was right about one thing—Sam and Stan would do their best to protect her and he needed to factor that in. A tiny voice screamed at him to think about everything else that needed to be considered to ensure he maintained his friendships as well as not having his teeth knocked down his throat.

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“Chris, I’m dyin’ down here. They’ve interrogated me so long I’m losing my voice. May I get another soda?” He heard Isabel’s happy voice and wicked thoughts raced through his mind. When you got right down to it, a straight smile was pretty overrated. And he’d rip his pearly whites out by hand if it meant her repeating those exact words in another setting. One where she was naked and bound and breathlessly following her I’m-dying-here comment with a pleading, Let me come. Which would definitely result in additional punishment for neglecting to say “please”. The Dom in him reared. He really had no choice. He stalked toward her, ignoring the men who sat at her sides. He slapped his hands onto the bar, the intended sound echoing loudly as he offered her the hottest look he could muster. “I’m right here, Isabel. Now tell me what you need.”

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Chapter Two Isabel whipped her head around, the noise startling her for a mere second before a precise memory shocked her more. She looked at Chris’ hands, watched as he rubbed his palms in small circles over the area he had just slapped and her heart accelerated. Memories of having her skirt slowly raised, of James’ grunt of approval sounding from somewhere behind her, of leather-clad thighs holding up her weight as she obediently lowered herself over his knees. And that first strike. The sensation of heat flooding her flesh before the pain was gently smoothed away in just the same circular motion, before another resounding blow was delivered and rubbed. Repeatedly, until she was shaking with the need to come. Embarrassment crept up her neck and she quickly met his gaze, only to suck in the breath she’d unwittingly been holding. His green gaze had darkened and he tilted his head back in a commanding manner she’d never noticed before. He straightened his lips and the small dimple she’d always found just a tiny bit sexy disappeared. In a matter of seconds her friendly neighborhood bartender had taken on the persona of the type of man she was thinking of reconnecting with. A man who demanded an answer for every question asked and an obedient response to every action proposed. “Tell me what you need.” His tone was a deep whisper and it didn’t leave time for her to consider anything more than controlling the urge to promptly answer. Honestly and without restraint. I want a man. One who knows exactly what I need without me saying it. One who doesn’t expect me to be the authority where our personal life is concerned. I’m so damn sick of being in control. “I need… I mean, I’d like…” She couldn’t look away and his eyes narrowed as he waited for an answer. Her voice sounded way too breathless to her ears, but the fact

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that Sam and Stan had continued to carry on their conversation and ignore her made Isabel think she was simply imagining the undercurrent—the compelling tone Chris used, the way his gaze seemed to convey that he knew exactly what she was thinking. She didn’t see a movement but the fingers of her left hand were suddenly enveloped in his warm grasp. “I like your watch,” he said, but he hadn’t moved his gaze one iota. She knew, without a doubt, he was daring her to look away. Taunting her. Which seemed so very ridiculous. Or maybe not, since she was obviously losing her mind. “The chain work seems pretty delicate. Like it’s super fragile. But I’ll bet it’s not. Not when it’s twined with another one just like it.” He turned her hand and she forced her eyes downward. His words, so seemingly innocent, had caused a fine sheen of moisture to break out over her chest and under her arms. His thumb brushed over the band, the two twisted chains moving ever so slightly against her pulse point. “Has it proven to be really strong, Isabel?” She hadn’t imagined the slight pressure he exerted and her body responded with the very real thrumming between her thighs. “It seems like it could probably take a great deal of punishment.” This time she heard the intake of her breath. Knew he did as well but when her eyes snapped upward, his face was back to normal, back to the jovial countenance she was familiar with. Kind eyes, easy smile, strong chin. Full and kissable lower lip. And where the hell did that come from? He moved his thumb slowly over the fleshy part of her hand before releasing it and she shook her head in an attempt to focus. Denying she and the girls hadn’t considered how hot he was would be a boldfaced lie. But he really wasn’t her type. She liked tall and lean. Like Sam. Not a strong, muscular, wide-shouldered build. Like Chris. But the most important thing she told herself was that while Chris was friendable, he wasn’t fuckable. And that’s how he would stay. He exuded an air of sexuality that tended to

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scream “player”. She wasn’t looking for a hook-up. She was looking for something different. Yes you are, Isabel. Something very, very different. And just for a sec, it seemed he was on the same page. “Are you shaking your head because you don’t want more to drink?” His voice held a decisively teasing tone. “No. I’ve had enough,” she said, encompassing more than just her need for libations. She took another deep breath and reached for her purse. “When you get a chance, may I get my check, please?” “Let me cash Larry out and I’ll be right back.” She watched as he walked to the opposite end of the bar, the V shape of his upper body seeming more pronounced from behind. He could probably fling her over one shoulder with arms like that. Take her somewhere secluded. Back her up against a wall and hold her wrists high above her head… “Babe, what are you doing? It’s only the second intermission.” Sam interrupted her thoughts before they spiraled any further out of control. “Sorry guys. I’m calling it a night. Sammy, just sign for my card and save the receipt for me.” “Forget that shit,” Stan said. “If you want to pay, you stay. If you don’t stay now, then you can buy another time.” “You sure you’re all right?” Sam asked, grabbing her chin and making her look into his eyes. “You good to drive?” “I’m fine, you two. Just really tired. But I had fun, as always.” She hugged first one, then the other, as Chris slid the bill in front of her. “If the Pens lose, I’m blaming you,” Stan replied. “As you should,” she smiled, reaching for the bill but Sam grabbed it first. She knew better than to argue with him.

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“And we didn’t even get to finish talking about your sausage quest,” Stan added. “So recap. Look into real-life events. Wine, dinners, 5Ks, charity auctions, those types of things. Somewhere you can meet men with a little class.” “Like you two,” she said and laughed. “Like us, babe,” they replied in unison. “You’re the best,” she said, giving each of them a quick kiss before hopping off her barstool. She felt so much better. Maybe the chair had been possessed by some horny patron from the past. That would make more sense than the fact that she’d just realized she might be attracted to Chris. At least he’s near your age. No ball bustin’ from the peanut gallery. “I’m hitting the head,” Stan said. “You walkin’ her out?” “On it,” Sam said, placing a propriety hand at the small of her back and turning her toward the door. “Hey! Izzi!” Chris’ voice carried through the bar and everyone looked in his direction. He stood with his arms outstretched, a what-the-hell look plastered on his face. “No goodbye hug? No kiss?” Heat flooded her body once again. Her first thought was that he was challenging her, but that couldn’t be the case. Not when Sam’s deep laughter was accompanied by more than a few chuckles from the other patrons. “You must be out of it,” Sam said. “You never forget to hug the waitstaff.” “Don’t leave me hanging,” Chris warned. She forced herself to walk to the bar, hoping the smile on her face seemed genuine. She was more than a little off-kilter and she didn’t like it. “Sorry.” She stood on tiptoe and reached across the bar. He met her halfway but didn’t touch her. He let her do the hugging, but for some odd reason her hands drifted

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over his shoulders and down his well-defined biceps before she stepped backward. His muscles were like granite and she felt him flex, well aware of her touch. “Hey,” he said softly. He tapped the top of her hand and she automatically offered her palm, silently cursing at the telling gesture. “These are for you.” She glanced down at the small stack of business cards and reached for the top one. “Check them out later,” he said, curling her fingers to cover them with his warm palm. “I heard you guys talking and grabbed a few from my stash. Everybody wants the bartender to know who they are.” Isabel looked at him and he offered her a quick wink. A conspiratorial wink. A friendly wink. A wink that should have made her feel at ease, but had just the opposite effect. “Maybe you want to get in touch with some people you know before you start online trolling.” “And these are good guys?” “They’re decent guys or they wouldn’t have made it to my ‘keep’ pile. Nobody goes in there unless they’ve proven they’re not total assholes…and know how to tip.” He laughed and she returned his smile. “Obviously,” she agreed, cocking her head. When he mirrored her action and batted his lashes, she laughed out loud. This was how it was supposed to be. Light. Breezy. Playful. “Are there cards from women in here too?” “No, they’re in a special pile all their own. I gotta admit, I wasn’t aware you were leaning in that direction, Izzi.” The Chris she had known for the past year was back, throwing nicknames and crazy talk her way. “Not just yet,” she said, taking a step back as she slid the cards into the outside pocket of her purse. “But you know my motto.”

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“What’s that?” She blew him a kiss and turned on her heel, her mood suddenly lighter. “Never say never,” she said over her shoulder, expecting to get the last word. She heard his voice, deep and sexy. “Good to know. Very good to know.”

***** An hour later, after a long shower, a victory dance in front of the TV when the two SportsCenter announcers declared that her Penguins had won, then a celebratory bowl of white-chocolate-truffle ice cream, Isabel snuggled under her fluffy down comforter, intent on a good night’s sleep. Try as she might, the episode at the bar continued to repeat itself in her mind. Over and over, she reviewed what had transpired, shooting for various explanations as to how she might have misunderstood things. She came up with some plausible reasons but knew, when all roads continued to lead to the fact Chris might be a closet BDSM practitioner, she needed an obvious diversion. Her first thought was to find another philanthropic venue to which she could lend her time and effort. Her inbox was full of requests from various organizations. But she was fairly particular as to her charities. And thinking about how to generate large amounts of cash for them generally didn’t help to put her to sleep. It had the complete opposite effect. She turned onto her side, staring at the soft glow that drifted through her unadorned windows. James had liked it that way. He had been vehement that their condo, one level lower than the penthouse and having no other buildings obstructing its view of the water, shouldn’t have window treatments of any kind. In retrospect, it fit right into what she’d learned to be his love of voyeurism, although she was certain no one except a low-flying Coast Guard chopper would have been able to see a thing. Isabel had become accustomed to the outside glow acting as a built-in nightlight…and the early morning sunrise being more reliable than any alarm clock.

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She smiled into the darkness, startled to find she’d been thinking of her late husband without the usual ache in her chest. She really had loved him. And now it was time to do as she promised and move on. But not with their one-time Dom. Isabel was a believer in signs. The fact Sam and Stan had offered her some alternatives to the online dating proved she had been wise to wait. And what about Chris? She closed her eyes, but that only sharpened the image of him looking at her across the bar. If she could capture that expression, throw him into a pair of tight, black leather pants and put a crop in his hand, she’d have the perfect masturbatory material. She wouldn’t need the occasional bondage website. She could bottle him, a dominant version of I Dream of Jeanie, and have him there when she needed him. Tell me what you need. It was the sentence that really started all the memories. “Damn, damn, damn.” She tossed the covers aside and got out of bed, unable to stop from brushing her fingers over one hardened nipple. What she needed was sex. Not some late-night booty call, but something with a modicum of exclusivity. She ran her hands down her abdomen, stopping at the waistband of her boy shorts. It wouldn’t take long to bring herself to orgasm. But that never really relaxed her to the point she fell asleep, not when her mind was racing like it was at the moment. No, it would only make her more awake. She glanced at the bedside clock and knew, at the oh so not-late hour of eleven forty-five, she could call Sam and talk. She always enjoyed his visits to the “big city” as he liked to tease. She’d been tempted to ask him about his twin brother, if he happened to still be out there on the open market, but had refrained. Partly because of the age difference, but more because of the fact the twins were extremely close. The last thing in life she wanted was to have one of her guy friends find out about her other side. She doubted they’d understand. Heaven knew, her closest girlfriends didn’t.

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Isabel had shared bits and pieces of her first submissive experience, hoping for a little support from their corner. They had seemed fine with the spanking but their looks of shock had escalated into faces of horror as she elaborated. In the end, they’d taken her hands and told her how sorry they were that the pervert she’d married had put her through such a thing. And that she should divorce his fifty-something ass, have the marriage annulled, and live like a queen the rest of her days. If Isabel remembered correctly, they were still planning private-chartered trips to Tahiti for the three of them when she got up and left the restaurant, taking her obvious perversions with her. She meandered through the condo as she made her way to her desk in the library. She stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water. Her purse lay open on the counter and she remembered the stack of cards she had buried in the pocket. It really was very sweet of Chris, although it was the last thing she had expected when he’d called her back to the bar area. What did you expect, Isabel? “Who the hell knows,” she said aloud, taking the cards with her to the library. It wasn’t him asking for a hug after what apparently was a one-sided, totally delusionary moment and it wasn’t him attempting to find her possible dating options. Was he even single? She assumed he was and his comment about a separate pile for women’s cards suggested that. And that pile was probably more mountain than molehill. Because, while she always thought him cute, tonight was enlightening where her attraction to him was concerned. She sat down at her computer and turned it on. She’d do some emails, check on some items she’d been tracking for delivery, maybe play some Mahjong Titans until she was tired. Waiting for the machine to boot, she perused the business cards. A few of the names she recognized from local businesses. The head of a huge activities group, a morning-radio host, a real-estate developer. Stanley’s card was there and she smiled. She would not be dating him, despite the fact he had touted himself, in print, as the most eligible man on the Eastern seaboard.

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Her screen blipped on, the light making the sleek, black business card that was next in line hard to read. She turned in her chair and tilted it so the blood-red text was discernable. BIND YOUR BODY…NOT YOUR MIND The other cards slipped from her hand and fell to the desk as she turned the card over and read the back. For The Inexperienced and Bondage-Curious Offering Sound and Practical Advice MySecretMaster.com Blog and Chat Room Signs, Isabel. Signs. “Oh good god.” Someone who frequented On The Left was into the kinky shit? He had to be local if Chris kept his card and he probably had to have carried on a conversation with him so he must know what the man did. Must know what he was into. “Holy shit. A blogging Dom!” Now wasn’t that just a portent and a hell of a lot more? And she couldn’t just ask Chris about the guy because then he’d know she was interested in that stuff. She doubted she could pull it off as curiosity alone. And why the hell did he even give her that sort of card? Was the guy that great-looking or successful? Was he a Dom with a golden heart? Isabel huffed. That was not at all the usual stereotype. That’s not how the man who had made it impossible for her to sit for two days had been. She quickly typed in the web address as her train of thought progressed. One never imagined the wielder of the whip as a loving partner or father. They were supposed to be aloof and guarded and somehow a bit larger than life, not a kinky version of Ann Landers, which was the vibe she was getting from the quick scanning of the webpage. It was most definitely an introductory arena filled with a glossary and two photo

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galleries. One highlighting implements and supplies, the other filled with tastefully erotic photos of rope work and the reddened results of paddles and crops and floggers. Isabel bypassed the Links tab and went straight to the blog. It read more like a diary of a recent session, the focus not on the exact punishments that were meted out, although they were briefly expounded upon. The tone was more educational and definitely psychological and Isabel was surprised. She hadn’t expected something so exclusive and before she realized it, she’d gone back and read nearly a year’s worth of blogs and the resulting comments, most of which the Dom himself had answered. Returning to the Home page, Isabel scrolled through the menu options once more, her cursor hovering over the one tab that she wasn’t sure she wanted to click. Chat. Not knowing what she might find provided a heady combination of thrills and fear. Had she not read the blogs, she would have assumed it was a bunch of lifestyling Dominants and submissives, but she highly doubted this was a place for them. It seemed like a kinder, gentler bondage arena. She laughed at the thought then took a deep breath. If James were standing behind her, he would tell her to do it. To explore. But he would also tell her to participate, and that part she wasn’t as sure of. She could lurk with the best of them and with that in mind, she double-clicked her mouse. The terms of agreement were standard and she read through them quickly and tapped the Accept button. The screen that appeared was totally unexpected and her palms began to sweat. Apparently, despite the anonymity, there would be no underthe-radar admittance. In two hundred characters or less she needed to tell the moderator exactly why she wished to be part of the chat group. She stared at the vertical, flashing line of the cursor. Her mind screaming do it in sync with it appearing and disappearing—over and over and over—until Isabel finally relented and reached for the Shift key.

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***** Chris didn’t even bother locking the door to his apartment behind him. Let the asshole who lived across the hall or one of his drunken, heavy-metal horde wander in. He’d happily tell them to grab a beer from the fridge and pull up a chair. Usually, he’d divest himself of every clothing item he wore, toss them in the washer and snag an icecold libation before turning on the television and trying to get his brain to quit racing over whatever calamity the night might have offered. But not tonight. Chances were slim that Isabel would have hurried home and immediately checked out the website. Then again, before tonight, chances were slim that he’d be presented with even a tiny window of opportunity where playing Dominant to Isabel’s submissive could become more than a wet dream. While he kicked ass at offering advice on his blog and in the chat room, he hadn’t had a D/s relationship in quite some time. As he plopped onto the big computer chair, he realized how much he had missed the closeness being with another person on that level offered. But it was so damn hard finding a woman who had all the components needed for success. Within seconds he was logged in and staring at the inbox notification that stated he had three unread emails. Part of him thought to play it cool, to check out who was online or what had been posted in his absence. But here, in the sanctity of his home, he didn’t have to prove jack shit to anyone. He could be as damn dorky as he wanted. And at the moment, he only wanted to check and see if there were any new member requests. There she was. No mysterious or obscure email address. Her initials, her last name. She’d taken the time to check it out. He took a steadying breath and ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it tightly against his scalp before reaching for a hair tie and securing it in a tiny ponytail at the nape of his neck. Then he opened her email. I’m not into the lifestyle by any means, which is why some of the other sites are unappealing to me. I found this site by accident and feel the chat room might be the perfect place for me to get some insight and some answers. 31

M.A. Ellis

I’ve

had

appealing,

one not

experience

with

only

a

on

bondage

titillation

and

found

level

it but,

to

be

more

importantly, for the serenity it briefly provided. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to get from being a part of the chat group, other than a better understanding of what I want at this stage in my life. Thank you for your consideration. “Concise,” Chris said, looking at the time stamp of her email. Two hours ago. She wouldn’t be online, not if she had to get up and go to work. His gut clenched, the acid in his stomach suddenly churning. “Fuck.” Did she even have a job? He hadn’t given that a thought until now. He knew from enough passing conversation at the bar that her late husband had been considerably older and that he’d gone pretty quickly from cancer. Chris racked his brain, trying to remember if she or her friends had ever mentioned a career. Something other than charity-centered activities. Something a bit less highbrow. He couldn’t remember a damn thing. “Great.” He did not need another rich girl trying to take a walk on the wild side. He’d done that more than a few times and it never ended well. He wasn’t looking for a session of titillation. No. He wanted something far more rewarding with Isabel. Something that would have her hot and wanting from the get-go. Something that would leave her unhinged to some extent. Something that would keep her on her toes. An image of her wearing thigh-high latex boots with six-inch heels flashed through his mind and he ground the heels of his hands against his temples. He’d listened to enough relationship chatter to know one of the major tenets was not looking too anxious. If he were contacting her on a dating site, there’d be all sorts of crazy-ass, hidden-agenda rules to consider. But MySecretMaster wasn’t for dating. Not in the least. He clicked on the button that would allow her request, ready to respond with the standard welcome greeting. Chris stared at her screen name and tried not to grimace.

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It could have used a little more thought. Every Dom, whether experienced, apprenticing or just hopeful, would be chatting her up. CURIOUS2aFault. He reset the Options to alert him to new chat messages and plopped down on the couch, killing the volume on the television. “Curious, Izzi? Let’s just see how much.”

***** Welcome to MySecretMaster, CURIOUS2aFault! Isabel stared at the email until her eyes hurt then, with more than a little trepidation she clicked on the text, prepared to read the note. It was a standard greeting email. It outlined the basics, urged her to ask questions since the Dom On Call was there for her benefit. She hadn’t thought about the fact there might be more than one of them and her excitement suddenly plummeted. How would she know which one had been at the bar? She couldn’t very well ask something like that on a public loop. While she wanted to protect her privacy, she wouldn’t dream of intruding on his. A link at the bottom of the email would take her directly to the chat, maybe she should just click on that and go for broke. She glanced at the clock. Half past five in the morning. She doubted anyone was up asking questions this early and clicked over to the loop. Join me in extending a warm welcome to the following new members:

MJfromRNC,

CURIOUS2aFault.

Remember

beachyone, chat

etiquette

LEGALEAGLE1958, and

patience

and at

all

times. Anyone comfortable sharing their first-time chat story with our newbies will be registered for a $15 gift card! Isabel stared at the lines of greetings that followed the post. There were a handful of stories outlining first chats, most of them conveying at least a small sense of the apprehension she was feeling but all proclaimed high praise for the members and, most importantly, MSMaster. She read post after post and got the feeling there was only one Dom and he was a god among men. She wondered if he ever offered to train personally 33

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and the impropriety of that seeped into her body and made her shiver. What the hell was she thinking? She sent a quick note of thanks to the group in general, answering some of the more innocuous questions, such as how long she’d been curious and if she’d ever had any incidences of bondage in the past. Was it the BD she was interested in specifically or more the D/s? Or was it SM? Fifteen minutes later she had searched online for each pairing of terms so she knew what exactly was being asked and sent specific replies to the ones who had asked particular questions. Never before had she given much thought to what she actually liked. It wasn’t the S&M stuff, that much was certain. She had learned she didn’t mind a little discomfort or the occasional jolt of pain, as long as it was followed by a soothing, reciprocally rewarding motion. Her fantasies revolved around being bound and her inability to get away from her tormentor. Just the thought made her a bit tingly and she pushed away from the computer, intent on making a cup of tea. Good morning, CURIOUS. You’re up early  It was from him—MSMaster. She leaned forward and typed a quick reply but, unsure how to address him, she hesitated. She typed another sentence and sent it: Good morning. I’m an early riser. And I don’t know how to address you. My apologies. Thank you for accepting my request. His reply was quick. Not to worry. You may call me MSM or just Master if you wish. I

won’t

take

you

to

task.

Not

yet,

at

least,

lol.

And

a

suggestion, you should go into the Options area and create a signature line so you don’t have to sign each message by hand. People like to see a signature. Isabel smiled and typed, deciding it was wiser not to ask why his posts didn’t include a signature but his tone invited a bit of lightheartedness.

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Thanks for your beneficence, MSM. From past posts I’ve read, it’s clear everyone adores and respects you. I’ll go now and fix the signature thing. When he didn’t respond she sent another note. I’ve got it figured out. Hope it’s fine to abbreviate C2aF It seemed juvenile, the short interaction, but she didn’t know what else to say. Ask me a question. Ask me something you’re really struggling with. I can give you my undivided attention at the present time. Isabel realized he’d offered her a golden carrot. It was much like a confidential meeting with the person within a corporation who held the charitable-benefits’ purse strings. Or an audience with a celebrity and she racked her brain to think of the perfect question. Seconds ticked by and she started to sweat. She needed to say something but everything seemed inappropriate to share. I’m sorry. I have questions, I really do. I just can’t seem to put them into words, which is ridiculous because in the real world

I’m

talking

to

people

all

the

time.

I

appreciate

the

opportunity. Maybe I’m not as ready for this as I thought. C2aF

Relax, Curious one.  Take a few deep breaths and try to come to terms with the fact that no one here is going to judge you. There are people here who are more experienced but by no means completely knowledgeable and others who haven’t been able to partake in a single session of exploration. We can always learn from each other. Isabel suddenly wanted to say screw it and not only sign off but go in and delete her account altogether. It had sounded too good to be true and apparently it was. She wasn’t a person who opened up and shared, at least not somewhere everyone could

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read her personal thoughts. But she believed in honesty and that’s how she would respond. I’m sorry, MSM. I can’t be as open as I thought I could. I appreciate you taking time to chat with me but I think. C2aF She inadvertently hit the send button before she was finished and swore at her computer. Before she could add to the sentence another reply came from the Master. WTGP? Isabel stared at the acronym, no clue whatsoever of its meaning. She typed before she thought about going online and looking it up. It was probably something ultra-easy to figure out, but he’d probably realized she wasn’t savvy on more than a few fronts by now. What’s WTGP? C2aF His return message made her heart lurch. WTGP Want To Go Private? Private? As in email? There’d be no harm in that, would there? She could ask him anything she wanted. But it would be in print with her email addy attached to it, which wouldn’t be prudent. On the other hand, he was a font of knowledge, one which she might never come in contact with again. That would be much appreciated. Do you mean email? C2aF The brevity of his response didn’t surprise her. I’m here to help. Watch your inbox. Five hours later, Isabel had told a complete stranger not only her past history, in vivid detail, of what she had experienced at the hands of a weekend Dom but her ongoing fantasies, as well.

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Had she paid a trained therapist to listen then offer his thoughts, her bill would have been into the tens of thousands and spanned months if not years. He had helped her see the benefit of acknowledging her dark side, as he called it. Which sounded so much better than some of the other terms she’d dubbed it over the years. His experiences and suggestions always centered on a single principle—respect. When they had waded into the waters of lifestyle versus playtime, his knowledge substantiated the fact that it wasn’t what she needed. She needed a man who shared her desire for exploration, a man who would willingly embrace her need. She even told him about her decision to go online and it was the only time his messages seemed stilted. She finally asked if he thought the alternative dating sites might be an option and his reply had floored her. She scrolled down to read it one more time before she shut her computer off. Those

sites,

like

the

ones

out

there

for

the

general

populace, serve a purpose, but I don’t think it’s a path you want to travel. You can put up your level of experience but you have

to

remember

that

a

great

deal

of

the

other

world,

especially Doms, know how to read people, sometimes for lessthan-moral purposes. I’d advise against it, Isabel. She hadn’t regretted giving him her name, although he didn’t offer his. She had decided on total honesty five minutes into their conversation. Then how am I going to find someone for exploration? I’m not even sure whether I want the nonsexual relationship you helped me identify as what I actually had or one that’s more intimate. He had shocked her with his response but she was too far enmeshed in their interaction to second-guess anything. Meet me tomorrow. At the bar you think harbors the kinky bartender. Maybe I know him, lol. We can talk in person at the very least. If that goes well, perhaps we can try a bit of light play. Your choice of course, but grant me one demand. Wear a 37

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plain, little black dress. Even Master Doms have fantasies they need fulfilled. And no panties. On The Left at 10:00 p.m. It wouldn’t be bad. It was a safe place. She intended to tell the girls what she was doing. Unless they totally wigged out on her. But Chris would be there if the guy turned out to be some crazy deviant. She hadn’t asked for a picture because she really didn’t care about his appearance. If he was hideously deformed, they might have a problem. But she’d never been a superficial person. James had been what women called ruggedly attractive but was by no means handsome. No. What was important remained the same as always. A man’s integrity made him ten times more appealing. And one thing she sensed MySecretMaster had a great deal of was integrity.

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Chapter Three “What’s the matter, Izzi? You’re wound tighter than a drum tonight. Did GNO not end well? I saw your friends hightail it for the door awhile ago.” “Girls’ night out was fine, Chris. We solved all the world’s problems, as usual.” She glanced over her shoulder once more. He wasn’t going to show. She realized that now and hurt and anger swirled within her, vying for the superior spot. “Really? All the problems?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of understanding that Isabel found uncomfortable. “All but one.” She forced a breezy tone into her voice. “So what’s up? Two of you buy the same sexy little dress or latest pair of Louboutins?” Isabel stared at him. Maybe humor would help. “You’re the master of a great pour and know shoe designers? You’re not hinting at coming out of the closet, are you, Atlas?” “Honey, I’ve mastered a boatload of stuff and convincing myself I can’t live without looking down at another dude’s hairy ass isn’t one of them.” “Maybe you wouldn’t be the one on top?” “Trust me. I’m always the top and what can I say? Black and red is a pretty rockin’ combination. Especially if it pertains to killer heels. What’re you wearing?” He wiggled his eyebrows and Isabel’s smile faltered when she thought about his “top” comment. It had to end—her turning every innocent statement into some sort of bondage innuendo, especially now that her hopes seemed to have been trampled. She allowed him his moment of mirth before bending her knee and drawing her foot

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upward toward her butt. She hooked her finger around the heel of her boot and pulled her leg upward until she resembled a figure skater. “Nice boots, Oksana. Very hot.” She laughed at his understanding of the pose and held it for a second longer before letting go and lowering her foot to the ground. “I was supposed to meet a guy tonight, but he never showed.” “Yeah, just like three-fourths of the usual customers. It hasn’t been this dead in forever,” he mumbled, before taking in the way she was dressed. “At least that explains the sexy-yet-modest skirt. The low, but not cleavage-screamin’ shirt. The leather CFM shoes.” “They’re not ‘come fuck me’—” “Yes they are and you know it. And there’s no shame in that, Izz. None at all.” She looked into his eyes and her heart beat a little faster. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he truly meant that? But she’d heard him with enough customers to know he had a gift for saying just the right thing at just the right time. “It’d be great if people weren’t judgmental,” she said, placing her hands against the flat surface of the bar, pretending to study her perfectly manicured fingernails. “People tend to place their insecurities on others in ways too various to consider. You have to admit to yourself all the weaknesses and fears and then move on. So were you planning on letting this guy take you home and screw your brains out?” “What!” “The guy you’re waiting for. Was he a Match or Chemistry dude? Did he meet all your criteria? I know what women want. I hear it a hundred times a night.” “I’m thinking you don’t know a damn thing, mister. And I’m not like most women, FYI.” “I never said you were, Miss Defensive. But you’re wearing the stereotypical uniform of coital expectations—” 40

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“And you’re wearing the smirk of a total douche bag.” The blood rushed to her face and Isabel wasn’t sure why she was arguing with him. He certainly didn’t deserve her ire. “What did you expect to have happen tonight? When women set off on these online fishing expeditions—” “He wasn’t from a dating site.” “There are tons of horn dogs just looking for a quick fuck.” “I’m not looking for a booty call.” “What the hell could some guy you’ve never met have that’s so appealing to a classy broad—” “He understands there’s another side to me, you dumbass. One I can’t even understand myself!” The words hung in the silence of the near-empty bar as they stared at each other. For an instant she thought a glimmer of victory crossed his features and she turned her head to the side, not really seeing a thing as she stared off into the distance. Her harsh breathing was the only sound breaking the silence and the level of discomfort rose to the point that she stood to leave. “Don’t go.” The vehemence of his tone made her hesitate and a second later he had her left forearm in a firm grip. “Isabel.” Her name was a firm command and she immediately spun around, focusing on his face. “Good girl,” he said with a stony countenance but his voice dripped with praise. The exact terminology he used wasn’t lost on her and she remained speechless when his big hands encircled her wrists and pulled them toward him, so her upper body stretched across the bar. Her ribs pressed against the rolled-leather edge, her breasts resting against the glossy wood. Her heart kicked into double time and, to her utter disbelief, her nipples hardened.

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“Chris?” She doubted her lips even moved. She doubted that he’d even heard her. “Come closer.” She could refuse. Wrench her hands out of his grasp and storm back to her table, throw him a twenty and leave. She could tell him she didn’t kiss her friends on the lips, which he hadn’t asked her to do, but she sure as hell wanted to. But none of her friends had used that tone with her. A tone that made her pussy feel suddenly heavy. She had the overwhelming urge to obey him. But he wasn’t part of her plan. What if MySecretMaster walked in right now? He’s not coming, Izz. You know that. But look what you have right before you. Great body, awesome smile, long fingers. Look how he’s staring at you. “You realize you have the furthest thing from a poker face, don’t you? I asked you to come here, Isabel.” Her name rolled off his lips and she put one foot on the rail and hoisted her body closer to him. She hadn’t picked up the spicy scent of his cologne before but now it wafted toward her and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It seemed very important that she commit the smell to memory. His thumbs massaged her inner wrists. She hooked her other foot on the rail and tried not to moan at the deliciousness of the undeniable strength he kept in check, as he brought her palms together and transferred her wrists to one of his hands before tightening his grip. She wasn’t sure what he was doing and she really didn’t care. Part of the appeal of being restrained was being at the mercy of someone virile and in complete control. It was a true aphrodisiac. She obviously knew the reality of the situation, the one thing all the books and online references never failed to highlight. It was the submissive who ultimately held the control. She opened her mouth to speak, to think of some witty way to ask him if he was “down to play”, as MySecretMaster had called it, but her words froze as something hard and thin was thrown over her hands and tightened around her wrists.

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She opened her eyes, shocked to find a bright-yellow plastic tie, the kind used to bind cable, holding her captive. “What the hell—” “Hush.” He hooked another tie through the one holding her and had both ends cinched tight around the base of the beer taps before she realized what had happened. “Hey, Eileen. Your ride’s here, sweetie. Let me help you out.” He directed his words to someone behind her. “Wait,” Isabel said, as he walked around the bar, unable to turn her body very far. She watched his reflection in the bar mirror as he walked over to an elderly patron and helped her out of her chair. “Time to go.” He spoke in a gentle voice, so very different from the tone he’d just used with her. She heard the woman’s slurred “thanks” and stared, somewhat dumbfounded, as they both walked out the front door. She glanced back at the simple little plastic strips holding her hostage before checking out her reflection in the mirror. She looked as perfect as when she had walked into the bar, two and a half hours ago. No sign that she’d had a heated discussion with her friends about whether she should meet a man without talking to him on the phone for hours on end, or texting like a madwoman. No sign that her stomach had been in knots about the prospect of meeting him. No sign that she was more than a little concerned to be bound to a beer tap by her friendly, neighborhood bartender who was soooo full of shit about her poker face. She had one. And she was more than adept at employing it when necessary. He’d shocked her, that’s all. But he was obviously joking around. He had absolutely no inkling of who she was meeting. Unless MySecretMaster had enlisted Chris’ aid. That was totally plausible. The faint strains of a whistling baritone interrupted her thoughts and a short, bald man appeared from the hallway that led to the restrooms. Never breaking stride when

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he glanced her way, he took in the fact she was restrained and continued strolling toward the door. “Have a grand night, my dear.” “Wait. Are you MySecretMaster?” The words sounded ridiculous and she closed her eyes, not at all surprised to hear him chuckle. “From your mouth to God’s ears,” he replied. “Hey, Chris. Take it easy.” She relied on the mirror once again and watched the man soundly thump Chris on the back before leaning in and whispering something that got him a two-handed push to the chest and a loud “fuck you, Larry”. But she could see Chris smile as he opened the door, let the man pass and then locked it behind him. He turned and their gazes locked for a second before he dropped the blind that covered the door then walked to each of the big front windows and repeated the action so no one could see in. What the hell are you going to do, woman? Isabel masked her indecision and tried to step down. “I doubt you’re going to be able to reach the floor.” She ignored him, pleased when first one toe and then the other hit the tile, but she regretted her decision a moment later when her calf muscles were pushed to the limit as she strained to force the heels of her boots onto the floor. “You don’t have to stay like that. You have my permission to get back up.” His words stunned her. “Your permission?” she finally asked. “Who do you— Let me loose right now, Chris. I’ll admit I’m a little off-kilter with this and I’m sure it’s amused you. Feel free to share with Sammy and Stan and have a laugh riot at my expense.” She waited for him to tell her he was part of the plan, certain at some point, after the man she had arranged to meet made his grand entrance, that she’d calm down and thank him for his help. “The last thing I plan to do is share, Isabel. That’s not at all what I’m into. And it’s not what you’re into either.”

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His husky tone washed over her but the presumptuousness was really the final straw and she tugged her wrists with enough force that the bindings dug into her skin. In two steps his large, warm body molded to her back as he grabbed her forearms and forced her to remain still. Their gazes locked in the mirror, above the row of neatly aligned liquor bottles, hers furious, his silently warning her not to move. “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she said loudly. “I know more than you think,” he said, shifting his weight to one side. His breath teased her ear and she tried to ignore the way the hair on her arms rose to attention. “I know that you’re inquisitive. Curious, some might say. To a fault.” Her heartbeat sounded in her ears as clarity enveloped her. Curious. To a fault. “Oh my god,” she said, her mouth dropping open. “Mmmm. Now that’s a helluva look, Isabel.” He let go of one arm and hooked a finger under her chin before brushing her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. She didn’t even try to stop him as he gently forced her head in his direction until their green gazes met. It was all quite clear and she tried to move her head but he tightened his grip. “You’re part of the blog, aren’t you?” “Sweetheart,” he whispered, lowering his mouth. “I am the blog.”

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Chapter Four Chris hadn’t meant to kiss her. His kisses were saved as rewards for orders obeyed or tasks carried out to their fullest. But her lush lips, parted in surprise, had him breaking his personal rule and plundering her mouth like a man in search of the sweetest treasure. She tasted like heaven and he knew he should stop. He could feel her hesitancy and knew thoughts had to be flying through her mind at an exorbitant speed. She’d have questions, no doubt. His initial intent was to establish exactly what she wanted from a submissive point of view before he actually touched her but with her lips softening under his and her hips thrusting backward, he had to draw deeply on his inner control to refocus and reclaim the upper hand. He eased one leg between her thighs and pulled his head back. “Put your feet where they belong before you hurt yourself.” She blinked and he could feel the tension that permeated her body. She was waging an inner battle, he was sure, most likely trying not to spread her legs wider to feel the hard muscle of his upper thigh against her core. He raised his knee and her toes left the floor. She clamped her lips together but he felt the infinitesimal shift of her body as she tilted her hips downward before doing as he suggested. He held back from offering her praise. That would come later. Once she’d forgiven him for the subterfuge. And she would. Not wanting her forgiveness intertwined with lust that was obviously building, he made sure she was once again steady and stepped away. He pulled up a barstool and took a seat. The “permission” comment had set her off. That was good to know. He’d found that most initial reactions were quite telling.

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“Let me go.” She closed her legs and moved closer to the tap. It was a halfhearted request, but he silently gave her props for trying to be assertive. “If you want to give the orders, then we need to switch places.” “Would you do that?” she asked with more than a hint of disbelief. “No fucking way.” He chuckled, brushing an errant strand dark hair off her forehead before tucking it behind her ear. “I’m not a bottom. I have been, don’t get me wrong. That’s the best way to learn. But I’m a Dom in every sense of the word. And by your own email admissions, that’s what you’re looking for.” She remained quiet and Chris patiently waited her out. It’s what he did. It was second nature. Whether in the persona of bartender, friend, or Dominant, he didn’t feel compelled to interject until the appropriate time. “I can’t figure out how all this happened. There are chunks that seem to be missing. There’s no way you knew I was trying to come to terms with that past experience before the blog. No one knew about that. But you’re the one who gave me the card. It’s not coincidental, I know that. Nothing ever is.” “Really? It’s not coincidental that you harbor a little kink and you come into my bar at least once a week, three times if it’s during hockey and football seasons? Or that I’m the guy who knows enough about all things BDSM that I feel comfortable sharing my expertise online. Thanks to the wide, wide world of technology, both our hidden traits can be admitted, explored and used for the betterment of mankind.” “But this isn’t what I expected. You’re not what I expected.” She met his gaze and Chris shook his head. “It sort of hurts that you’d have preferred a complete stranger. Someone you think you can trust enough, from a dozen or so loop entries and emails, to tie you up and do devious things to your body? Someone who could be the next star of Serial Killers Gone Wild.” He saw a glimmer of fear cross her face but just as quickly it was gone. Another positive reaction. 47

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“You could be that man, for all I know,” she accused. “You’re right. I could. Your method and criteria for meeting me totally sucked, Isabel. You have no idea of the number of sadistic men and women who are out there just waiting to get their hands on a newbie. If you truly want to partake in some playtime, I’m the man to chart those new waters with you. The fact that you haven’t screamed your head off for help is a testament to that. You know that as well as I do. If it’ll help soothe your concerns, I can give references.” “I’m sure you can,” she said hotly, a blush creeping up her neck. A part of him hoped it was because she realized he already knew her a little better than she knew herself. That was the beauty of finding the right sub. And with each little heave of her breasts, each flare of emotion in her eyes, Chris knew she was meant to be his. “First rule. Don’t think about anyone who came before you. I may have initiated one girl or one thousand girls, but it doesn’t matter. It’s you I want now.” She studied him longer than he would have imagined. “Why?” The question surprised him. Most prospective subs took that statement as a sign of devotion and readily accepted the meaning that went with it. They wanted to feel special and for a brief period of time, they were. “Is it because I’m all but virginal when it comes to the freaky stuff? That you see me as a prize? Or maybe a challenge?” “First of all, it’s not freaky. I thought we established that. Not to me. Not to us. If it’s an interest and it’s healthy in and of itself, and no one gets hurt, then what’s the problem? We’re kindred spirits, Isabel. Plain and simple.” He tugged at a section of her hair and wrapped it around his fingers then gave it a gentle yank. He watched her nostrils flare but she remained silent. “Of course you’re a challenge. That’s part of the attraction.” “What’s the other part?” She fired the question at him, obviously not ready to relinquish the upper hand in the conversation.

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“You’ve got a tight little ass that I can’t wait to redden.” He smiled at her shocked gasp and continued. “In addition, I’m someone you can trust. I’d never hurt anyone, especially someone I consider a friend. And I do consider you my friend.” “And how does that work, Chris? You see me naked, push me to my limits, bring me release and then serve me up a draft like usual the next time I walk through the door?” “If that’s how you want it to work, that’s exactly how it works. Anonymity and covertness. Secretive interaction, if you want to call it that. I’ve served tons of people I’ve run into at one dungeon or another. I nod, say hello, give them their order and that’s it.” “There are dungeons around here?” she asked incredulously. “You never once seemed interested in that sort of thing during our conversations, but yes. They’re here in the tristate area and they’re busy. Trust me.” He accentuated the phrase because, in the end, that’s exactly what it would come down to. Her placing her trust in him. And him alone. He watched her give his words a great deal of thought before sighing heavily. “I thought we were going to discuss scenarios and what I had in mind. It sure as hell wasn’t being tied to the Kegerator until my hamstrings rip in two.” “We will, but I didn’t have time to finesse you. It was the only thing I could think of to keep you from thinking your fetish date stood you up. I didn’t want you storming out the door. It was necessary. And rule number two is ‘no swearing’ unless you’re in the throes of denied, impending or actual orgasm. I’m not down with the potty mouth.” “You have got to be shitting me.” He held her gaze and landed a hard, resounding, open-handed slap on her right ass cheek. He immediately grabbed the back of her skirt to keep her from stumbling off the foot rail before taking advantage of her wide-eyed shock to elaborate.

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“The time for jokes is over, Isabel. Eventually, we’ll talk about your predetermined ideas of what you may actually need. Eventually, I’ll cut your bonds and we’ll go back to your place. Eventually, after you’re so sated you can’t move, I’ll put you to bed then see how easy it might be to incorporate some playthings into your present décor. But before all that, we need to see just how amenable you are to taking direction, because if you’re going to get your nose out of joint over something as small as my demanding you don’t talk like a trucker, then I know for a fact I’m not the man for you.”

Her ass still stinging and her wrists beginning to ache, Isabel let his words sink in. Now would be the time to backpedal, or throw up the white flag. A part of her was scared at what he’d do but another part, the same one that apparently connected her pussy to the soft underside of her derrière, urged her to simply say “yes Sir”. But could she do it? It seemed less intimidating when she could use James as the scapegoat for whatever obsessions she might be harboring. It was James’ idea. James wanted it so badly, I hated to deny him. Never once did she tell her girlfriends how hot she had found the experience. How she’d come ten times stronger at the end of that riding crop than she ever had with a man…or on her own. The fact that she innately trusted Chris was more baffling than anything else and she wasn’t sure she was one-hundred-percent comfortable with the idea. Maybe it was the fact she actually knew him. How could she ever sit across the bar from him again if she let him do the things she dreamed of having done to her? The other time, it was James who had known the Dom. She had no interaction with the man, other than lying there and allowing him to do what he knew James enjoyed watching. The fact that she actually enjoyed it as well had been a bonus. But this would be different. It would have nothing to do with James. It was for her and her alone and the thought of baring herself, both physically and emotionally, to

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someone she didn’t completely trust would be the pinnacle of stupidity. She wasn’t stupid. “Do you trust me, Isabel?” She really didn’t like him sounding so formal. It was so much better when he used her nickname. “What happened to Izzi?” “This isn’t a game. If you think it is, I’ll set you free and you can go home. Right now.” “I know it’s not,” she replied quickly. Chris releasing her was the last thing she wanted. Realizing that fact told her all she needed to know. “I’m nervous, okay? And while you’ve made perfect sense that I should be more comfortable since I know you, it’s still weird.” His hand brushed her hair to one side and she shuddered as his thumb grazed the back of her neck. “I’m nervous too,” he admitted, his breath warm, as his fingers trailed down the back of her shirt with a featherlight slowness that had her insides tightening. “Don’t tell me that,” she said in a worried tone, holding her breath in anticipation of his hand retracing its path. “Breathe. Your spine’s a major trigger. I’ll undoubtedly spend a lot of time there so get used to my touch. Focus on inhaling and exhaling. As for being nervous, it would be pretty strange if I wasn’t.” “But still—” “I like the skirt.” His hands snaked around the front of her body, resting just below her bellybutton and, without thinking, she moved her hips backward until she was touching his body. “Thank y—” “Are you that much of a horny little slut?”

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Isabel gasped, more from his words than the fact he’d grabbed her hips and thrust her lower body away. “What?” “Did you somehow forget I asked you to wear all black? Black dress, no panties.” Grabbing handfuls of her skirt, he inched the material up her legs until the hem slid over her ass, baring her cheeks to him. “And you wore a thong. When I specifically said no panties. You know what that means?” “My underwear matches,” she replied tersely. She didn’t appreciate his tone, swore she could hear the smile in his words. She wasn’t there for his amusement. It hadn’t been this way before. He hadn’t acted like a dick during their chats. If a stereotypical byplay was happening, it was lost on her. “I wore this because it looks less funeralesque.” She tilted her chin upward, causing her hair to cover the upper portion of her back. She waited for him to meet her gaze in the mirror but he continued to stare at her ass and her temper rose. “I don’t want to look as if I am in mourning, I want to look sexy. And I want to feel sexy, despite the fact I am a nervous wreck. And tiny scraps of silky underwear happen to help me with that. So do little knit skirts and shirts that—” “Cling to every curve and scream that you’re in a ‘fuck me’ state of mind?” “Sexy isn’t the same as ‘fuck me’,” she said hotly. “Who did you want to look sexy for?” he demanded in a low voice, moving one hand to the small of her back. He pulled the fabric of her skirt upward until it was tight against her belly while he ran the fingers of his other hand under the upper edge of her thong. “Wh-what?” Her breath hitched as his knuckles followed the thin strip of black satin downward until their path was blocked by the full spheres of her ass. She tried to concentrate on what he had just asked. “Did you want to look like sex-on-a-stick for me? Or for yourself?” He pressed a little harder and she stopped shifting her weight as she considered his words, not sure of the correct answer. But did it really matter? 52

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“Me,” she finally admitted. “Wrong answer, Isabel.” She clenched her glutes, certain that part of her body would be the obvious recipient for her mistake. “Not for a woman who says she wants to let all her responsibilities, all the things she has to be in control of, fall by the wayside. Just for a while. I was under the impression you wanted a full experience, but one without intercourse. You opting for easy-access dressing and cock-hardening lingerie convey a different message, and for now, I can work with that. But we’re going to talk. In depth. Very soon.” He pushed her skirt until it was bunched around her waist. He looked up then and met her gaze in the mirror. She’d fucked up. That much was clear. “Open,” he ordered softly, tapping the inside of her right thigh. Seconds ticked by until she slid her boot along the rail, trying to ignore the unexpected rush of dampness that tickled her folds. “That’s far enough,” he said, placing a hand on her hip to stop her. His palm was warm and smooth and she closed her eyes as he massaged her flesh. “Everything we talked about online, you were completely honest, right?” She thought back. They’d covered so many things. But she hadn’t lied. She hadn’t been devious in any way. “Yes. Completely.” He nodded, not breaking eye contact. “You said you liked the crop, but not the whip.” “Correct.” Her heart missed a beat just thinking about the two implements and her reaction to each. “And the last time, the Dom toyed with you and teased you but he didn’t fuck you?” “No,” she whispered, forcing her gaze to remain stationary. 53

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“But he watched you and your husband. And you had no issue with that?” “I didn’t…at that point…I-I just didn’t care.” She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling every bit the slut he had accused her of being. “You had already climaxed?” His hands cradled the outside of her upper legs and his thumbs caressed the soft underside of her ass cheeks. He moved his palms in tiny increments so each sweep brought his digits closer and closer to her anus. “Yes.” She arched her back, tried to slow her breathing. “Did you come more than once?” “Yes.” “Do you do that often?” “Sometimes,” she admitted, jumping when he grabbed her leg and lifted it upward onto the barstool he had quickly repositioned. The faux leather cushioned her knee, the angle allowing a brush of air to cool her heated flesh. “Can you control your orgasm? If I order you to hold back, not to come, can you do that?” The scrape of another stool being moved diverted her attention and a moment later he had her other leg in a similar position, her pussy effortlessly on display. “I’m not sure. I’ve never tried,” she said, sucking in a breath when he caressed her ass with both hands, the whisper-soft designs causing goose bumps to rise. “This time, I’ll allow you to keep your eyes closed, but know that in the future, you’ll watch me. Agreed?” She shook her head, unable to muster any other response as his fingers reached the fabric covering her labia. “This time, you can just focus on my touch. This isn’t the place to work out any of your fantasies, although I have to tell you, I’m looking forward to that one we

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discussed. The one in the dead of night. It’s hot. Well thought out on your part. Which is what play dates are all about. Perfectly orchestrated desires.” He gave her covered pussy three firm little taps and a shudder rippled through her body, from her toes all the way to her bound wrists and she clenched her hands into fists. “You’ll be punished for the error in clothing, though. But not here. Not perched how you are. Where one solid swat might send you careening into the tap. Of course, you could just hold on with your hands to steady yourself. Maybe we should try that? But it’s probably best if I just focus right here.” He flicked her clit and Isabel rocked forward, involuntarily clenching her muscles. “Your ass, tightened like that, is a delight. I’m going to look forward to using it in every way possible but not until I fill you first. Right here.” He palmed her fully and a tiny moan escaped her lips. The contact started a throbbing low in her belly and she leaned forward, trying to press her abdomen against the bar. “You’re hot, Isabel. And already wet. What are we going to do about that?” She wasn’t sure how to answer so she remained quiet and did as he said. She focused on his hand. His fingers. The way they stroked her swollen labia in a slow, random pattern that was quickly driving her upward. It had been too long, that was the only rational explanation for how terribly hot he was making her. With great skill and a pace so slow she wanted to cry, he worked his way to her clit, tracing wide circles around the little nub but not touching it, even when she did the unthinkable and rocked her hips backward so he was forced to brush it dead-on. “Isabel,” he warned. “I’m sorry,” she said, gritting her teeth as she tried to divert her attention. He wanted her to hang on and that wasn’t going to happen if she kept thinking of how long his fingers were, of how badly she wanted him to slip one inside her channel and try to find her G-spot. He could, there was no doubt about that. 55

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He will. And you’ll love it. And come like a crazy woman. He picked up the tempo and the change in her breathing seemed thunderous to her ears. She was sure he heard it, knew how important it was for men of his temperament to be able to read the women they were mastering. The thought turned her on even more and she failed to stifle a groan. A second later her thong bit into her leg as he wrenched the fabric to one side. She held her breath and waited for his fingers. She wanted them inside her. Wanted her labia stroked. And it was…with the broad flatness of his tongue. “Oh my god.” The ties around her wrists didn’t give an inch when she pulled at them. She wanted free, wanted to reach back and touch him even though she was aware that wouldn’t happen. Not until he was damn well ready to release her. But now, with his tongue flitting from her clit to her dewy slit and then delving inside, she wanted to reconsider. He was hot on oh so many levels. In a moment of brief clarity, she wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before but then the familiar sensation of impending release was upon her. He was going to let her come, not make her hold back, and it felt delicious. “Oh my god, Chris.” And then he was gone. His hands, his lips, his warm body. Her head snapped up and she watched him wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, watched him inhale deeply before lowering his hands to his hips with an air of finality. “No,” she cried, shaking her head as the cool air teased her wet pussy. “You can’t.” “I can,” he replied, pulling first one stool and then the other away so her legs dropped. “Every time you disobey. And every time you use my real name. When I’m dominating you, you’ll call me Sir or nothing at all. I won’t demand you try Master. But you will show me respect. It’s a lesson easily learned, Isabel.”

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Her limbs were trembling and she remained on her toes but brought her thighs close together, intent on shifting her hips back and forth to alleviate some of the pressure. “Your pussy’s so swollen, that’s not going to work. Even as sweetly waxed as you are, and I do love that, by the way. It makes the tormenting so much easier.” “Let me come.” Her words came out as a growl. “Uh-uh-uh. No ordering. What type of hierarchy would that set? You demanding and me giving in? That might work with other men. You’ve got the looks, the clout, the tight little box. Any guy would happily do whatever it was you asked of him. But I’m not any man. You know that now.” Despite the throbbing in her cunt, Isabel was coherent enough to know what he was about. She could counter his psychological warfare. “So you’ll feel less of a man by letting me have my way this first time?” He stared at her, his eyes stormy, and Isabel pulled on every reserve of determination not to look away. “Mmmm. You’re good, I’ll give you that,” he chuckled. “You’re a smart woman. You know enough about the game that I think you could easily be a Domme in your own right.” “Let me go, Chris.” She’d had enough. He could release her and she knew exactly what she’d do and she thought he’d be okay with it. Had he not been keeping his cock away from her gyrating body parts, she’d actually know if he was interested. If he’d kiss her again and let her hitch a leg over his hip. Let her undo his belt and drop his zipper. Let her— “Which do you want? Let you come or let you go?” “Let me go and I’ll make myself come,” she said brazenly. She was rewarded with the arch of one of his brows.

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“Another challenge. You’re really not implementing anything you’ve learned over the past few days, are you? Submissive means just that. Even if it’s for ten minutes. You’re submissive for the session. That’s how it works when you’re not a lifestyler. And you have to know that I’m impervious to a challenge. It just makes me want to be more of a prick.” He cupped his hand over her mons, curling his fingers so they brushed the opening of her vagina while the heel of his hand exerted just enough pressure above her clit that Isabel thought she might die. “Because I love that sparkle in your eyes, I’ll compromise. You stay tied and I’ll let you get yourself off.” She eyed him suspiciously but didn’t say a word. She’d never done anything so bold and he had to know that. “This,” he flexed his wrist and Isabel eagerly pushed her body against his hand, “is what I’m offering. If you really want to come that badly, show me.” His eyes, his tone, the words. They blended together in an undeniable challenge she knew she should refuse but the throbbing between her thighs overrode common sense and she moved her hips, attempting various angles and small rotations until she maneuvered his fingers where they needed to be. “Right there,” she whispered, closing her eyes to block out his intent gaze. She’d praise him later for the way his hand remained stiff, how he didn’t move his fingers one iota while she pressed against them with increasing speed and force until the fullness that had receded to just below the surface rose once again. Her body ached with raw need when her orgasm hit and she silently rode the waves, only cognizant of the fact he’d moved away from her and was back around the bar when he grabbed the loop holding her hands together. She opened her eyes and watched him produce a pair of scissors and cut the tie that was looped around the tap. Had he not been holding her, she might have slid to the floor, but he waited until she eased backward onto one of the stools before removing the other tie and rubbing her 58

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wrists. She blinked, surprised at the knifelike tingles that shot to her fingers and offered him a tiny smile. “I hope you found that rewarding, babe. Because it didn’t do a fucking thing for me.” Stunned, she watched him walk away. She heard the distant slam of a door and flinched, her wet nether region rubbing against the seat of the stool in a manner that had her on her feet in a heartbeat. She pulled her thong back into place and yanked her skirt down, the heat of embarrassment flooding her face. It wasn’t how she should feel, not after that. Disappointment and something that resembled shame weren’t meant to be part of the afterglow. The fact that he was dissatisfied hurt, but the callousness of his words sparked a different emotion. He’d called her babe for god’s sake. He knew how impersonal that was. What kind of way was that to treat someone you supposedly wanted to be with? He doesn’t want to date you, Izzi. He wants to be your Dom. Big difference. But that still didn’t allow for humiliating her. They’d covered that in their talks as well. Humiliation wasn’t one of her turn-ons. “Well screw you, Chris Greene.” She stalked across the room and grabbed her sweater and her purse out of the booth where she’d left them. You told him you didn’t want the screwing part, remember? Everything was supposed to be of a tutorial nature. Exploration. Enlightenment— “Oh shut the hell up,” she muttered, heading back to the bar and grabbing a cocktail napkin. She rummaged in her purse for a pen and jotted him a short and to-thepoint, two-sentence “fuck you”.

***** Chris stood, straight arming the wall of the office as he counted to fifty, inhaling and exhaling at each increment of five, until his breathing returned to normal. He stared at the faux grain of the ancient wood paneling and shook his head. 59

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He’d been so damn pissed when she walked in wearing that outfit. Every guy there had turned and stared as she bounded up to the bar to say hello to him before grabbing a booth for her and her two girlfriends. Disobeying from day one was not what he had anticipated. Not from their chats. She’d seemed so pliable, so willing to accept his suggestions. But then she’d misbehaved and his need to remedy that, coupled with the fact the dearth of customers had forced him to let the wait staff go home early, overrode his well-laid plan. No, if Karma wasn’t a bitch, he’d have slid into the booth when her BFFs departed and told her he was the Master. That he was the one giving her all the sound advice while exploring the degree to which her kink factor came into play. But in the blink of an eye, it’d been the two of them, him with the power to clear and close the place, and Isabel walking across the floor toward him, those hot legs stuffed into the even hotter boots. He’d done what he could. He’d improvised. “Call me the fuckin’ MacGyver of bondage,” he mumbled, threading his fingers through his hair. He had already called the taxi for Elaine and keeping Isabel right where she was had seemed the perfect solution. His goal had been to slowly tease her but then her damn scent had worked its way into his system and straight to his dick and all he could think about was the fact she’d have to taste as good as she smelled. As sweet as the wetness making her pussy glisten. “Shit. What the hell happened to your control, dickwad?” He hadn’t been that unfocused since the early days of his training. He stared at the closed door and knew for a fact she wouldn’t be out there waiting for him. If she were, he’d think a great deal less of her. She was a strong woman and that held a great deal of appeal. Unless he misread her, and he was certain he hadn’t, she wouldn’t be waiting to apologize, even if she recognized myriad things she had done wrong from a prospective-sub standpoint. Chris made his way out of the office, into the empty bar and walked straight to the door and locked it. His hunches were correct. All that remained was whether she’d talk

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to him again. Whether she’d have the balls to walk in the door for the next hockey game. Or if she’d actually contact him online. He doubted that would be the case. He went to the cash register, ready to empty it when the note caught his eye. You’re a tool. Never call me a slut again. “Duly noted, Izzi.” He laughed, his spirits rising. A “tool” wasn’t as bad as it could have been. And “again”…well, that just held all sorts of hope for another chance. And one more chance was all he needed.

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Chapter Five “I think you should give him another chance.” Isabel ignored Lucy and struggled to get the balloon onto the air valve of the helium tank. Twenty down…another forty to go. “Give me that,” Lucy said. “You must totally suck at putting on condoms.” The young woman had the balloon on the valve filled and tied in five seconds flat. With a smug look she handed it to Isabel and waited for her to attach the glittery pink string. Isabel paid no heed to the comment or the look, wondering what had prompted her to share a few details about her public display of lack of decorum. She hadn’t mentioned names and she sure as hell hadn’t mentioned the masturbation portion of her evening’s entertainment, but she’d brought up the fact a friend element was in play and that he had pushed her to the point that she let her temper rise. Then felt bad after. She didn’t have to tell her friend that the whole event made her reevaluate her reactions and expectations. Lucy had come up with that kernel of knowledge on her own, perceptive twenty-six-year-old that she was. “You’re still pissed and it was four days ago. As my Mima used to say, ‘shit or get off the pot, Missy’.” “Classy woman, your Mima,” Isabel replied, wondering why the Tri-County Diabetes Foundation’s annual fundraiser, which was slated to start in less than four hours, wasn’t diverting her from thoughts of Chris. Activity buzzed around them as the volunteers worked to get table decorations just right and gift bags in order and, for once, Isabel felt good about delegating and not interfering with the people she had put in charge. In fact, it was the first time she hadn’t spearheaded the entire event, just stepped in and volunteered for the decorating committee and nothing more.

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“She was that and more,” Lucy replied. “As soon as we’re done, let’s head up to the suite and get ready. If we stay down here, you’ll be tempted to step in and help, I just know it. And who doesn’t want a go at that awesome shower?” Isabel laughed. She’d seen showers much bigger and five times more opulent but the suite that had been donated for the volunteers’ convenience was beautiful and much appreciated. “Jennifer still won’t tell who sprung for it, but they’ll be here tonight she said. Guess they had a family member who had Type Two. She said their loved one passed away just last year so it’s a new donor.” “New blood is always good but never at that cost. As for stepping in, I have moments of thinking I’m totally burned out,” Isabel admitted. “Well, that’s nothing a hot, forbidden love affair won’t cure. One with a guy friend who seems waaaaaay off-limits. Just sayin’.” “Speaking from experience, Lucy?” “More times than I care to remember,” she admitted. “And still friends with them all.” “That’s amazing,” Isabel said. She reached out a hand, waiting for Lucy to give her the last balloon but the girl brought it to her lips and inhaled deeply then put her hands on her hips. “Totally doable, so don’t let that be a deterrent where your guy is concerned. Heeheeheehee.” Isabel shook her head and laughed, maybe she needed to be a little more carefree. Which would probably entail getting in touch with Chris sometime soon and asking if they could talk. “Come on, duckie.” She looped her arm through Lucy’s. “Let’s grab a couple pinots and waddle on up to the room and you can soak to your heart’s content. We have until five thirty, when housekeeping comes in to clean up before the mystery patrons arrive.”

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“And what are you going to be doing since your hair and makeup are already fabulous?” “I think I need to send an email.” “To him?” she asked expectantly. “To him,” Isabel replied. “Yay!” Lucy said, clapping her hands. “This is going to be epic.” Epic was not the word Isabel was thinking of. Not by a long shot.

***** Chris stared at the email and weighed his options. I’d like to see you. So we can talk. This could definitely go one of two ways, both of which he’d make sure ended with Isabel screaming his name. He had known she wouldn’t show up at the bar, that would have been too easy. He also knew she was probably struggling with her emotions and that was perfectly normal. But as of this morning, he was pretty certain he was going to have to reconsider his stance on waiting for her to come to him. His cell rang and he looked at the number, not surprised to find Larry was saving him from making the call. The guy did have a sixth sense. “Hey, Larry.” “Whoa, you sound pretty damn happy. What the hell’s changed in the last three hours?” Chris chuckled. “I need a favor.” “Right. That doesn’t answer my question at all, and what is this now? Favor number four? Or is it five?” “Are you really keeping track?” “You’re damn right I am. What’s the damage going to be this time?”

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“A key to that suite you rented for the night. And the particulars of when everyone is going to be out of there.” “Dude, you can’t be my date anymore, I’m taking Alexandra.” “She leaving the latex cat suit at home?” “She cleans up nicely, I’ll have you know.” “You planning on using the room later tonight?” Chris heard the anticipation in his voice and made an effort to temper his tone. “Not the whole night. I was thinking about a possible after-party hot-tubathon, what are you thinking?” “I had a text from Isabel.” “And?” “And she wants to talk.” “Oookay. She wants to talk. And how does this affect me?” “She’s going to be there tonight. I was thinking there’s got to be a way for you to get her back to the room. I’ll take care of everything from there.” “You don’t think it might be wise to just return her call. The whole ‘get her back to the room’ screams of a possible disaster waiting to happen since you two have absolutely no firm understanding of what she wants.” “I know what she wants. And I can give it to her.” “Really, Chris? You think you’re that intuitive after a little light bondage and a getyourself-off moment? Last time I looked, that minor in psychology didn’t make you an authority.” “Are you going to help me or not, Larry? That’s all I need to know.” “Okay, okay. Take it easy. I told the hotel to give out four keys and leave a fifth one at the desk for me. I can forgo a trip back to the room after the party, if that’s what you need. I don’t know how you think you’re going to get her back to the room, though.”

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“I was hoping you might help me with that. Now that I know Alex will be with you, I’m feeling a lot more confident. She’s a consummate player and a great actress.” “You’re not planning anything crazy, are you? Because I have to draw the line at the maids finding Isabel naked and tied to the bed tomorrow morning, especially with my name on the room reservation and I’m making a donation in my Mom’s memory.” “I give you my word. If they find her naked the next morning, I’ll be with her.” “So you two have decided on a sex-included relationship?” Chris didn’t answer and the silence stretched to the point of discomfort. He heard Larry’s heavy sigh. “Dude, this is not going to end well.” “Yes, it is. I know what she wants.” “Bullshit. You know what you want and when the hell did that include throwing a fuck into your sub du jour?” “Let it go, Larry. Are you going to help me or not?” “Of course I am. And I think we can start the repayment with free Jameson for a month and the promise of a beginner’s bondage workshop at the club.” “Done,” Chris readily replied. “Want to throw out a suggestion or two on what time I should be there? And how I’ll get in the room. And how we’ll get Isabel up there?” “Not asking for much are you?” Larry replied, but the excitement was evident in his voice. The man enjoyed a challenge more than Chris. “Let me brainstorm with the lovely Mistress Alex. We’ll come up with something and I’ll call you back. It’ll be stealthy for sure. We’ll get her up there. The rest will be all you.”

***** “Isabel? A moment, please?”

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Isabel spun around, a polite smile curving her lips as she faced Mrs. Wolcroft. The older woman was a bastion of the arts and a person who Isabel genuinely liked. “Allow me to introduce Lawrence Polino and his guest, Alexandra Helton. He’s the one who generously provided the suite for our volunteers.” Socially adept person that she was, Isabel mentally gave herself credit for the unwavering grin she offered to the man who had seen her bound to the beer tap only a few nights prior. “Mr. Polino. A pleasure,” she said, extending her hand. “Larry. I believe we’ve met before. I think it was at On The Left. I’m a frequent customer when I’m able to get away from work. It’s nice to see you again. Alex, darling, this is the woman I was telling you about.” Isabel’s smile faltered as she looked upward into the woman’s dark-brown eyes and accepted her hand, surprised by the strong grip that enveloped her fingers. “Isabel. Lovely.” The woman’s gaze drifted from the top of Isabel’s head to her feet, lingering there until Isabel was compelled to shift her weight. “I adore those shoes. Ferragamo?” “They are,” Isabel said, feeling as if the woman had somehow seen straight through the simple, black-knit dress that covered her body. “Mmmmm. They are delightful.” “Mr. Polino is one of our newest patrons. I thought perhaps you might escort him and Ms. Helton around, show them the items that are available for the silent auction and such.” Isabel reconsidered her opinion of the older woman. The last thing she wanted to do was be alone with Larry or the Amazonian date he’d shared info with. “Oh, Eleanor, I’m so sorry. I promised Lucy that I’d relieve her from her duties at the silent auction table. She hasn’t had a break all evening.”

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“I’ll be more than happy to spell her for a bit. I think perhaps it would be best if you start with the Tiffany area. Perhaps the Maui chocolate pearls?” She turned and looked at Larry’s date. “They would so match your eyes.” “Eleanor, really—” Isabel began but the older woman put a quick end to any further comment. “Mr. Polino,” Eleanor said, “why don’t you two meander toward that end of the table and one of us will be right with you.” She gestured to her left and took Isabel’s arm in a grasp that was surprisingly strong. “We’re fine, really,” Larry said. “We don’t need—” “No, no. We insist. Excuse us for just a moment.” Eleanor’s words, while delivered in a sweet tone, left no room for argument. Isabel found herself expertly guided away from the couple, unprepared for the Hyde-like change in Eleanor’s personality. “Lawrence Polino just wrote us a check for fifteen thousand dollars, so discussion over. Stick with him and that lady, and I use the term quite loosely. Show them the auction items and urge them to bid. We want him as more than a one-time patron, so act accordingly.” Without another word she turned and glided across the room, offering a beatific smile to everyone she passed. “Holy crap,” Isabel whispered, admitting defeat. She squared her shoulders and adopted a calm façade. She’d dealt with everyone from pompous, corporate bigwigs to creative artists with diva complexes. The couple she was closing in on couldn’t be that difficult to entertain. As long as no one brought up that evening at the bar. “Ah…the Mistress has spoken and you obeyed?” Larry offered her a huge grin and motioned for her to precede them in line. “Eleanor is a force to be reckoned with,” Isabel offered, ignoring his smirk as she walked in front of them. “It seems I’m all yours.”

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“Oh, doll,” Alexandra purred, grabbing her arm and lacing it through hers. “If only.”

***** Chris stood near the double doors of the ballroom and watched Larry and Mistress Alexandra vie for positions of prominence next to Isabel. If given more time to plan, he’d have absolutely avoided involving either of them, especially since Larry’s idea left much to be desired on a multitude of levels. “May I get you a beverage, sir?” A waiter appeared at his side and Chris shook his head. He wanted to be in full control of his faculties tonight. The last thing he needed was not to be one-hundred percent attuned to the situation and how to make it as authentic as possible, without scaring the bejesus out of Isabel. According to their conversations on the blog, that’s exactly what Isabel desired. He’d implement one of her top-three fantasies and, before the sun came up tomorrow, she’d see just how talented he was and give him a chance to make her happy for more than a few hours. Or she’d nail him in the gonads and tell him to go fuck himself. Good chance that’ll happen either way. He really did wish that voice of reason would shut up. It’d nearly killed him, waiting for her get in touch. It wasn’t the I’m-sorry-please-forgive-me messages he usually got, but she had made the initial contact. Now she was waiting for him to respond and he was going to. Just not the way she expected. There wouldn’t be a return note. There wouldn’t be a series of events she could compare with the advice in the latest Cosmo dating column. He slid his hand into the front pocket of his suit pants and smiled when his fingers brushed the hard plastic of the room’s keycard. As soon as the silent auction closed, he’d head back upstairs. He knew he could count on Larry. And his sexy Dominatrix of a date. He couldn’t imagine what they would say to get Isabel to the suite but he had no doubt they’d be successful.

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He should be up there waiting right now, but he wanted to see her in her element. A man could glean a lot of knowledge from simply watching and not the way her late husband had. That was a whole other ball of wax, one that Chris doubted he could have handled. The thought of another man ordering her to spread her legs or get on her knees sent a rush of anger through him. He recalled the soft, sexy little noises she had made as she was grinding her hips against his fingers and he slowly unclenched his fists. She wouldn’t have done that with just any man, he knew that long before he’d been on the chat with her. Long before they’d taken their few public missives private. Her confidence shone in the way she held her body, the smooth, steady pattern of her motions. She wasn’t nervous or uncomfortable. Not here. But later, when her hands and feet were bound… He ran his fingers through his hair and focused. Her dress might be an issue since he couldn’t tell what it was made of. It hugged her body well enough that there had to be some stretch to it. Ripping the fabric would be more in line with what should be done, but the damn thing had probably cost more than his mortgage payment, so that aspect of the scenario would have to fall by the wayside. With any luck, the scooped neckline could be pulled down and the hem pushed up until both were in a tight band that would encircle her waist. That would be fucking hot. At least his cock thought so as it gave a tiny leap, letting him know he was on the right track. The announcement that the silent auction would be closing in three minutes sparked a flurry of activity. To Chris’ surprise, Larry strolled away from the women and bent over the table, taking out his cell phone and dialing before he picked up a pen, ready to bid on something. Isabel rushed toward another item, Alexandra following at a more reserved pace. His phone vibrated in his pocket and Chris looked at the caller ID and answered in a low voice. “What’s up?”

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“You need to get back to the room soon. My uncanny senses kicked in as soon as you walked through the door.” “Really? You the only one who noticed?” “Definitely,” Larry replied. He stood up but didn’t turn in Chris’ direction. “You want to go in half on tickets to the Super Bowl? High-level seats but they’re a steal at three thousand for the pair. I figure we can resell if something better comes along.” “Sure.” Chris laughed. “You’re the king of multitasking. What’s Alexandra bidding on? With your money, I take it?” “A necklace and don’t try to fish for insight into the dynamic that is our relationship. You know that phrase ‘it’s complicated’? Well, that doesn’t even begin to describe it.” An air horn sounded and more than a few squeals echoed through the room. “Okay, dude. Hightail it,” Larry said. “Your target should be within arm’s reach soon enough.” “What? We’re back to playing soldiers and bad guys?” Chris grinned, walking toward the exit doors. “No pretending at all, dude, because the offensive you’re about to launch is scary real. I’ll consider it a successful night if I don’t get a call from in-house security that a maniac was found in my room. And just so you know, once Alex gets back down here, I’m telling the front desk we’ve lost our keys and having them reprogram the door. That way, if any of the auction workers still have a card, they aren’t getting in. And you two won’t be able to leave and reenter unless one of you stays inside and lets the other in. So, if she tosses you out the door naked, you’ll be totally fucked.” “Thanks for the head’s up…and for everything else.” “Stop it. You’d do the same for me. Hell, you’ve already done more for me so not a problem, dude. But if you totally fuck things up, I think my darling Alex would love a crack at your lady’s fine ass, no pun intended.”

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“She’s not into Fem Domme, that much I know.” Larry snorted. “That much you think.” “Goodnight,” Chris said with finality as he walked to the elevator. “That’ll be up to you, now won’t it?” Larry responded and clicked his phone shut. “Yes it will,” Chris said under his breath, happy he’d have enough time to doublecheck his preparations. A trickle of sweat rolled down one side of his face and he wiped it away. A great deal depended on his skill but the anxiousness that rolled through him proved there was a whole lot more at stake. It would be a test and he wouldn’t fail her. Not now…not ever.

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Chapter Six Isabel kept a congratulatory smile plastered on her face while her mind was screaming, Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. “Larry, darling! I won the pearls.” “Won” really didn’t begin to describe the reality of what had just happened but Isabel wasn’t about to point that out. “Outbidding with the finesse of a drunken sailor” might have been a more apt way to put it. Alexandra had increased the previous bid by two thousand dollars and, even if the other bidder had wanted to up the amount in the final seconds, the Amazonian’s demeanor would have put a stop to that. She’d stood with her hands on her hips, glaring, making the people around her take a few steps backward. “That’s my girl,” Larry said, walking to their side. “What are the chances I have enough in my wallet to cover it?” “Extremely thin,” Alexandra said, bending to offer him a quick kiss on the lips. “Then I’ll have to go back to the suite and get my checkbook since I just won tickets to the Super Bowl. Alex, why don’t you get in line to pay? I’ve done these events before and it turns into a free-for-all.” “You know I can’t stand still. Plus, no one will talk to me.” She pushed her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I wonder why,” Larry laughed. “Isabel, would you mind walking to the room with her? It shouldn’t take long. And can you grab my reading glasses, darling?” “But of course, my pet. Then I can touch up my makeup,” Alexandra said. “Isabel?” Isabel looked up and saw Mrs. Wolcroft headed their way. Let Larry deal with the old turd. “I’d be more than happy to, Alexandra. Shall we go now?”

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She took the woman’s arm and they walked with determined strides toward the door. Within minutes they made it into an elevator and arrived at the suite. “Make yourself at home, I’m going to quickly freshen up,” Alexandra said over her shoulder as she walked into the master bedroom. Isabel milled around the living room, which was no longer in the pristine state it had been in when she and Lucy had left hours before. Decorative pillows had been tossed onto the floor in a pile. The newspaper had been dissected, the business section draped over the arm of the loveseat and the sports section spread out on the coffee table. The latest issue of Vogue rested on one of the couch cushions. The couple was definitely opposites. Which was probably why they seemed as if they were the perfect pair. “I think Larry had a fruit tray delivered.” Alexandra’s voice came from far away and Isabel smiled. The bathroom would make anyone sound like they were in a canyon. “I’m fine,” Isabel replied in a loud voice, eyeing one of the plush chairs. If she sat down now, she might never get up. Alexandra reappeared, tapping her rhinestone handbag. “All set and ready to go, although these shoes are killing me for some reason.” Isabel opened the door, surprised that Alexandra hobbled around the room and shut off all the lights except a small lamp in the living room. She met Alexandra’s eyes and the woman shrugged. “I wasn’t always this fortunate. Once upon a time I couldn’t even pay the electric bill, so old habits die hard.” Isabel nodded and waited for her to pass before pulling the door tightly closed. She’d love to hear the story the woman had to tell. She sensed there wouldn’t be anything conventional about it at all. The elevator sounded with a little bing and, as the doors opened, Alexandra swore. “I forgot Larry’s freakin’ reading glasses. Oh my god. Isabel, would you mind being a darling and run back and get them?” She had already opened her purse and pulled 74

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out the key. “They’re probably on the coffee table. He was reading the paper right before we left. I’d go but my feet are dying.” “Not a problem,” Isabel said, taking the key. “Do you mind if I head down now? I need to find a seat.” Isabel was going to tell her she didn’t mind at all, but the elevator doors were already closing. She walked back to the suite and swiped the keycard, the light from the hallway helping to illuminate the path to the living room before the door slowly closed. The single light that Alexandra had left burning should have made the room feel cozy but the tiny hairs at the base of her neck suddenly rose and she spun back around and glanced at the door, her heartbeat accelerating. Nothing. She stared at the dimness for what seemed like minutes, but she knew was actually only a handful of seconds. Good lord, when had her imagination become so vivid? She gave herself a mental shake and took a step toward the coffee table when a viselike arm circled her waist and captured her against a hard, masculine body as a huge hand covered her mouth. One knuckle pressed against her nostrils, nearly blocking her air and survival instinct kicked in and she struggled. He held her head steady and somehow avoided her flailing legs. Her mind raced between finding a way to bite into his fleshy palm and all the self-defense techniques she’d learned over the years. His thumb caressed her cheek in a gesture so loving, it startled her to the point of immobility. “Shhhh. I’m not going to hurt you as long as you do exactly what I tell you.” His voice was deep and raspy and not at all distinct over the pounding of her heart. “No screaming.” He lessened the pressure on her mouth, shifted his hand but didn’t remove it, as he spun her around, pointing them both on a course toward the bedroom. She tried to wrench her head to one side and the spicy scent assailed her nostrils. In a rush, the familiarity of his smell, of their position, of the strength in that single arm across her stomach, had her legs all but giving out under her. He caught her and she felt the shock 75

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that went through him. Faking unconsciousness probably would have been the way to go if she hadn’t suddenly realized who had captured her. While it should have been a relief, her heart pounded anyway. “As long as you behave yourself and do exactly as I say, you’ll be fine. Do you understand?” Question after question assailed her but Isabel tried to push them away. There would be time to figure it all out later. Unless she wanted to figure it out now, in which case she could clearly speak the words that would make him stop They’d discussed just that when they’d gone private. Her primetime fantasy-to-end-all-fantasies didn’t end until she told the person holding her captive she knew who he was. Naming him was her safe word. That and nothing else. And while part of her was pissed at him for ignoring her, another part applauded his creativity. The fact he had taken the one thing she had told him was the biggest turn-on and had run with it. He jerked her head to one side and her attention immediately focused. “Do you understand?” he repeated, his warm breath teasing the side of her neck. She couldn’t help the way her hips pressed backward as a little shiver of desire wound its way through her body and she heard the tinge of satisfaction in his voice. “Is there anyone else home?” He was using the exact words she’d told him her fantasy intruder would say and Isabel swallowed against the dryness in her throat. She knew she could test his patience, at least a little. But did she want to? Did she really, really want to when he was here and ready to please her? One word is all it would take. One way or the other. She could say his name…or she could give her answer.

Isabel pressed her head back against his bare shoulder, turning her face away from his mouth in the process. He was shirtless. “No. No one else is here.”

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“That’s very good.” He dipped his head to the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder, his lips sending coiling sensations through her as his next question forced his mouth to tease her skin. “Will you promise not to scream or do I need to gag you?” “No. I’ll be quiet.” “Will you?” He nipped at her skin and a little oh echoed through the room. “That’s not very encouraging.” “I prom—” Her words were cut short as he walked two steps forward and bent her over the back of the couch. His thighs pushed against her ass while his upper body held her down. He pulled her arms behind her back and she lay shocked into motionless as he expertly bound her wrists with a length of rope that was long enough that the ends periodically slapped the sides of her knees as he tied his knots. In her dreams, she struggled against her captor but the real-life sensations of smooth, silky rope caressing her skin, followed by firm tugs as he secured the ends, was completely distracting. He stepped away from her and his gaze lingered on her skin. “Put your legs together. Nice and tight. And don’t move.” She did as he commanded and waited, unable to stop thinking of the discrepancies between the true scenario and what she had described. How was he going to get her dress off? In the dream realm, the man had ripped her nightshirt off before he bound her. “I want to see that ass. Raise your dress.” How did he expect her to do that? “I don’t think I—” His hands wrapped around her shoulders and jerked her upright and a tiny gasp escaped her lips. “Use your fingers. Go from side to side. Bend when you have to but get that ass exposed now. If I have to wait too long, I’m not going to be happy just spanking it. You’ll find yourself bent over the couch again.”

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Wetness slicked her folds at the thought and she moved her bound arms as best she could, working the knit fabric up one side and then the other until she had her dress around her waist. Bending forward she rested her wrists at the base of her spine. He didn’t utter a word and the longer she stood motionless, the wetter she became. She knew her panties had to be soaked but she wouldn’t move. If she did, bad things were bound to happen. His footsteps were all but silent and she realized he’d taken off his shoes. He paced behind her and her muscles tightened. He was going to touch her, that much she knew, but she wasn’t sure what form his caress might take. Firm, full swings or tiny little taps. She remembered the exact rhythm of his fingers stroking her pussy lips and she barely contained a moan. “Eventually, I’m going to tie your legs but I can’t decide if it would be more of a torment to have them tight together or spread-eagle. Either way, the panties have to go.” She waited for him to pull them down or perhaps rip the lacey garment from her body but he walked around to her side, pulled a small black duffle bag out from under the coffee table and tossed it on the couch. His pecs jumped from the mild exertion and she bit her lip as she studied the expanse of his bronzed, bare skin. He had to work out like a fiend. Abs like his didn’t simply materialize. They screamed of hours of dedication and discipline and that thought prompted a full-body shiver. He wasn’t wearing a mask like the man in her fantasy and Isabel was glad. His recognizable face and sexy features made the whole scenario more intense, for some reason. With a sweep of his arm, the newspaper fluttered to the floor and an area of clear glass was at his disposal. He bent, the fabric of his black dress slacks drawing snug across his lean hips, and one by one, he pulled items from the bag and placed them on the table. Scissors, a crop, two different types of nipple clamps, a long bamboo cane, a narrow leather paddle with three hearts on the end, a purple-and-black flogger, a solid ball gag.

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He looked up to gauge her reaction and Isabel remained stoic. If he were a real intruder, someone intent on torturing her, she wouldn’t have allowed him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. But Chris already knew that from their talks. Maybe she’d told him a bit too much because the next item he pulled from his bag startled her. It hadn’t been discussed. Not once. He set the plug on the glass, flat side down so she could clearly see its shape and size. It wasn’t huge but in her opinion it couldn’t be categorized as small either. A bottle of lube joined it and she couldn’t help but shift her feet. “When I’m done, I’ll allow you to pick one item and I’ll pick two. Your little lack of restraint has just helped me decide on one of those.” She stopped before she told him “no” but she couldn’t mask her shock when he produced a huge wand-type vibrator next. “Those are the choices for tonight.” “Tonight?” How did that work as far as fantasies went? She hadn’t discussed a twoday event. She wasn’t sure she could handle that. “You really didn’t think I was going to let you go, did you?” She stood stock-still, her mind reeling at what his words could actually mean if what they were doing was real and not pretend. The thought blindsided her as he kneeled on the couch in front of her and pulled her head closer. “You need to realize you’re mine,” he said, covering her mouth with his, slanting his lips to one side to gain deeper entrance. He stroked her tongue with his as he cradled the back of her head and plundered her mouth, increasing the pressure enough that he pulled her back into full-fantasy mode. “You taste delicious. Is the rest of you as sweet?” he asked, leaning back just far enough to grab the sides of her strapless dress and pull the bodice over her breasts and down to her waist. Her nipples hardened into tight little points and his gaze feasted on them a moment before his mouth descended. He nibbled and nipped hard enough that she reacted automatically and tried to stand up but he surged forward and sucked the 79

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tip a little harder while his fingers found her other nipple and rolled it slowly between his thumb and middle finger. A jolt of heated desire shot directly to her pussy and Isabel leaned toward him, silently begging for more. “I think we’ll take these out of the mix,” he said in a low voice, turning just enough to grab the nipple clamps and toss them back into the bag. “I like how responsive your tight little buds seem to be. I don’t think they need any additional stimulation this evening. Would you like me to taste the other one?” He reached out and a second little tweak brought her pussy right back to attention. “Yes, please.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Mmmm. Very good, Isabel. Very, very good.” He nuzzled her other breast, varying the suction and licking until she was rocking against the back of the couch in an attempt to stop the pulsation between her thighs. “Don’t move,” he commanded forcefully as he pulled his lips away. Isabel stopped mid-thrust at his tone. “You do not move unless I grant permission. Is that understood?” She watched him as he inhaled then teasingly blew a stream of cool breath over one saliva-dampened nipple until it puckered to the point of near discomfort. She clenched her teeth, unsure whether a nod would be acceptable or if he was waiting for a verbal response. His gaze bore into her as he reached out and stroked the pebbled hardness with the flat of his fingernail. Over and over in one direction until she couldn’t remain silent. “Yes.” She managed to keep her torso still and thought she saw his lips twitch, as if he knew the battle his touch had created. But his next words had her believing she had imagined even that small chink in his dominant armor. “Come around here,” he ordered, turning around and sitting on the sofa. “Now.” Isabel quickly obeyed, an innate sense prompting her to hold the back of her dress up as she went. She stopped in front of him and he picked up the scissors and quickly

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cut through the side seams of her thong. It didn’t fall off, just hung there and she wondered if she should spread her legs and let it drift to the floor. He reached out and twirled the front piece of fabric around his finger until it hovered over her clit. She could feel the heat radiating from his hand and held her breath. Anticipation was nearly driving her wild with need. She wanted to move but dared not. She wanted to have him tell her exactly what to do and she wanted to carry out his demands to the point of excellence. “Do you want me to touch you?” “Yes Sir.” The words were out of her mouth without thought and Isabel’s eyes, half-closed with clouded lust, opened wide. “That deserves a special reward.” He pulled his hand back and the thong slid between her legs. He tossed it to the ground and had the cheeks of her ass cradled in his palms before she could blink. Then his hot mouth was on her center, giving her clit one quick tug before tracing each side of her swollen labia with the tip of his tongue. She arched her back and presented her pussy to him. Her fingers touched his and he let go of her ass and grabbed the rope that held her hands together. He pulled gently backward and the combination of her upper body straining and the fact she couldn’t move her arms excited her to the point that she parted her lips and tried to calm her breathing and subdue the little mewling noises she wanted desperately to curtail. “Mmmmm.” He hummed against her clit and she spread her legs a miniscule amount, trying to cool her heated flesh. His slow crisscrossing licks had her lower body tightening, bringing her close to, but just out of reach of orgasm. The broad flatness of his tongue dipped over the hills and into the valleys of her pussy and Isabel tried to rotate her hips but he grabbed them once more and held her still, refusing to allow her to find release. “That was disobedient.”

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His tone was ominous and she had a few seconds of actual worry before the slow quivering flared low in her belly and spread outward until her legs were shaking. She dug her nails into the cheeks of her ass and tossed her head back. “Don’t you come,” he warned. She snapped her head forward and looked down into his bright eyes. The challenge was obvious but as she stared, a disquieting, unfamiliar wave washed over her. The underlying sense of emotional support he projected startled her enough that her impending orgasm was momentarily forgotten. She watched, his every action playing out in slow motion, as his arms moved and his hands slid over her hips and around to her front, his thumbs tracing her bikini line. A frisson of heat zapped her core and as if it never ebbed, her orgasm was upon her once again. “Breathe,” he ordered. “Slowly. Focus.” She tried. Believing, on the inhalation, that she couldn’t possibly hold off. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t feel full. Her breasts, her lower belly, her undoubtedly engorged pussy. “Now exhale.” Just as the air began to exit her mouth, he brushed her labia—down slowly until the hood of her clit moved over the aching nub and she whimpered. “I can’t.” “You can. A little longer. Keep breathing. You’ll come when I tell you, Isabel. Not before.” His thumbs retraced their path, this time pulling her pillowy flesh upward and outward until the cool air teased her exposed clit. The sound of her breathing, harsh yet regulated to a point, filled the room and she tried to hang on. To think of something other than the fact he was dipping his head toward her body, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue.

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It was the lightest of touches. A gentle pressure that at any other time might have tickled—not drove her straight to the edge. He didn’t lick her, merely massaged the tiny bead of flesh with caresses that had her legs trembling and her peripheral vision turning a hazy shade of gray. When he drew her flesh between his lips and flush against his teeth, she gave up trying to hang on. As if he somehow knew the exact level of her turmoil, he slanted his mouth and whispered against her pussy, “Come for me, Isabel.” His words saved her and she cried out as blessed release washed over her but he didn’t stop licking and sucking and stroking her until she squirmed from his grasp. There would be some sort of punishment for that, she was sure. But she didn’t care. She plopped down on the edge of one cushion and then leaned slowly backward, waiting for her sanity to return. “Make your choice, Isabel.” His voice sounded far away and she wondered if she might have dozed off. She opened her eyes and saw him holding the vibrator in one hand and tossing the butt plug up and down with the other. Somewhere, in the recesses of her deluded mind, she thought her orgasm had marked an end to their play. But in her fantasies, it didn’t end there. He obviously wasn’t going to deviate from her scripted wants and needs. “Oh my god,” she whispered, eyeing her choices with more than a little concern. If she picked the paddle or the crop, would it simply remind her of the other time? She unerringly knew Chris would be ten times more proficient than the other Dom. He’d take care of her, he already seemed more aware of her body than any other man she’d been with. Which was frightening. She pushed upward and surprised him with an open-mouth kiss. “Thank you,” she said softly, lowering her gaze when he continued to stare. He cleared his throat then offered her a gruff response. “Try to stay in character for shit’s sake. I doubt you’d be offering kisses to the man who tied you up and plans on busting your anal cherry.”

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“Is that what you’re going to do?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from rising. “With the plug. Nothing else. You’re not ready for that.” “Thank god,” she muttered under her breath, pleased at his matter-of-fact reply. He’d deviated from the fantasy enough that she was unsure of what would come next. “Make no mistake, Isabel. It may take months but you will experience each and every implement at hand.” She wondered if he was still role-playing. She hoped he wasn’t and the thought sobered her. With the aftermath of her release dwindling, clarity reared its head. “But we’re not going to be in this room for months.” “Pick one,” he ordered, ignoring her attempt to deflect him from the task at hand. “Are we going to do this again, Chr—” She stopped before she said his name, not wanting to inadvertently end things. She wanted more from him. She definitely wanted his masterful skills, but beneath the thrumming of her body, a part of her recognized her need for the man himself and that was more than what they had discussed. The stern look on his face made it clear he wasn’t going to answer her but that was fine. They had time and he was a reasonable man, she knew. She was secure in the knowledge that he’d listen to her wants, just like now. Isabel looked at the assortment of accoutrements and made her choice. “I want the flogger.”

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Chapter Seven Chris’ face never betrayed his surprise at Isabel’s choice. He assumed she’d go with the paddle, having experienced that particular pleasure-pain in the past. Or the crop. He’d actually practiced with that for a few nights to refine his level of precision. His cock had been harder than it had in months when he just thought about which areas of her pussy he could flick, which pattern or speed would make her writhe. The flogger was unexpected. He picked it up and tested its weight, not missing the way her gaze followed his every movement. She was on edge, that much hadn’t changed, but there had been a shift in her demeanor. Yeah, moron. Right after she asked if this was going to happen again. Right after she stopped herself before she said my name. She had caught on so well, quicker than any other sub he’d trained or been in a relationship with. The chances she recognized that were slim and he refused to allow himself a glimmer of hope at her policing her words for his benefit. It was his responsibility to keep things on track and, by Dom standards, he had veered way off course. Her fantasy had been pretty straightforward and other than the fact her arms were tied behind her back and he’d used a few verbatim phrases, what he was orchestrating was a fairly diluted version of what she had wanted. But she didn’t seem to mind. And there was the fact she’d picked an implement that screamed of her trust in him. Pride welled inside him and a new determination rose with it. He gently grabbed hold of her upper arm and helped her to her feet, making sure she was steady before he picked up the flogger and transferred it to the hand that was holding the vibrator and the butt plug. He straightened his shoulders, mentally fortifying himself against how fucking hot she looked with tendrils of her hair framing 85

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her face, her mouth damp from his kisses or biting her full lower lip when she came. But his cock loved the look. Loved it so much that the thought of her on her knees in the bedroom caused it to press painfully against the zipper of his slacks. He glanced down at her pert breasts, the nipples still erect and tempting, and he swallowed hard. He’d never been a fan of huge tits. They served a purpose if breast bondage was your thing, but they didn’t do it for him. But give him a modest pair of breasts, just like Izzi’s, and he could feast for hours. That lack of restraint wasn’t acceptable. Not here, because nowhere in her dreams or his planning was there a scene that had the Master on his knees before the captured damsel. That shit had to end. “In the bedroom. Now.” His tone sounded perfect to his ears and she immediately turned and walked in the correct direction. The low lighting cast crazy shadows over her skin and he drank in the way she kept her hands flat against her lower back as she walked before him. His balls gave a tiny roll and he stopped and exhaled through his nose to help focus. “Stop.” He smiled in the darkness as she obeyed. He turned on both the bedside lamps, not wanting it too bright but needing to be able to see her body clearly. He put the tools of pleasure on one nightstand, pleased to see she hadn’t moved from the doorway. She was gorgeous and, for as long as she needed or wanted, she’d be his. He picked up the cord to the vibrator, reached behind the nightstand and plugged it in. He realized he had forgotten the oil, but he wouldn’t need it now. He would grab it during one of her cool-down periods and if all went well, there would be several. “Come here, Isabel.” She walked toward him slowly, placing each foot deliberately in front of the other as if she knew it would make her hips rock perfectly from side to side. Maybe she did know, she was ultra-smart, and he found that excessively attractive. If her motions were meant to tease him, he’d let the fact slide this time because what he had planned would have her contrite in no time. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his feet shoulder width apart.

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“Take off your shoes and leave them by the nightstand then align your feet with mine. I want your pussy open and waiting. Understand?” “Yes.” “Yes what?” he demanded, noting how she quickened her pace. If he’d had the flogger in his hand, he’d have just kissed her ass with the tiny leather braids and watched her jump. “Yes Sir.” She stood in front of him, her gaze darting from his eyes to a spot on the floor. She was unsure and needed direction. “I prefer, when you’re standing and I’m using this,” he raised the vibrator and placed it in the valley between her breasts, “that you watch me. If it’s the flogger, I’ll want your head back. Understood?” He turned the vibrator on just as she was about to answer and a little squeal sounded. “Two speeds. This one is low.” He dragged the large round head of the vibrator over her stomach and around her bellybutton, allowing her to become accustomed to the sensation before he flipped the button to high. “Oh my god,” she blurted, eyes wide at the level of intensity. “It’s strong. But we won’t go there right away. We’re going to start just like this.” He pulled his hand away from her body and knocked the control back to the slower speed. Without warning he pressed it hard against her vulva, near the opening of her vagina so her clit would only receive mild stimulation. He saw the shudder that went through her body, how her toes moved away from his as she flexed against the sensation. The wand was powerful, his vibrator of choice for a dozen years now. “I want you to tell me when you’re getting close, Isabel. I don’t want you to let yourself come. Do you understand?” “Yes,” she quickly replied.

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She was watching what he was doing instead of looking into his eyes and Chris flicked his wrist and moved the toy a fraction of an inch away from her skin. Her gaze shot to his and he arched a brow. “Yes…” “Sir,” she added, humming when he placed the vibrator against her flesh once more. She would be totally trainable. Hell, she was more than halfway there already but Chris knew something special when it rolled into his bar and all but bit him on the ass. “Sir?” Chris gave her his full attention. “I think you should take it away now.” He glanced at the way her hips were making little downward pulses. She wanted the wand placed higher, wanted it to brush her clit. Her struggle was clear, but she was hanging on. “I didn’t tell you to voice an opinion, Isabel. I want to know if you’re close. Are you close?” He wiggled the wand a little until the cushiony sides of her outer labia were nestling the head. She jumped at the added sensation, inadvertently bringing her clit closer to the vibrations and Chris watched. Women had myriad telltale signs that could be read as easily as any guidebook and the way her eyes darkened was one of his favorites. “Don’t you dare come,” he warned. “I’m close,” she cried, parting her lips. “Really close.” He pulled the vibrator away and shut it off, the sound of her tiny little pants pushing his cock to the point that it screamed for attention. “Good girl.” Chris patted her hip and ran a soothing caress over one ass cheek before standing up and reaching for the button on his jeans. His knuckles brushed her lower abdomen as he worked his cock free but she didn’t move, didn’t back up. Unable to help himself, he ran his index finger down the center of her pussy, from her clit to her

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snug opening and back again, loving the way desire flared in her eyes yet she remained silent. He picked up the flogger and without his command, she dropped to her knees. “Look at you,” he said with a genuine smile. “That deserves a reward. What would you like, Isabel?” She opened wide and wrapped her lips around his cock, sucking him deep enough that her chin touched his balls and it was his turn to tense every muscle in his body. Her mouth was heaven and he let her warmth envelop his rock-hard shaft. She was awesome—some women were. She worked him in measured strokes and in no time he figured out the pattern, which was fine, but not at all what he really needed. Part of being a good Dom was observation, the other part was communication. A sound relationship needed that. “You don’t have to go deep all the time.” She pulled back and stared up at him, her eyes questioning. “Focus on the head. Go a few inches down. For me, the deep-throating thing is better as a once-in-a-while thing.” He reached for the flogger and ran the leather strips over his palm. She turned her attention back to his cock and he had to admit she took direction well. He cradled her jaw with his left hand and, using his right, he reached over her shoulder and ran the ends of the flogger over the fullness of her ass, careful to avoid her hands. Back and forth as she blew him. When the first real swat came, she flinched, but she had been ready for it. The fact that she hadn’t clamped her jaws around his cock was proof of that. He placed his hits with great precision and, when he caught the sensitive underside of one ass cheek, her moan vibrated down his penis and straight to his balls as she sucked his cock head as far back into her throat as possible. He backed off and moved his attention to the outside of her left breast. He needed to be done with her ass or be prepared to come down her throat and, while he knew that’s what she intended, it wasn’t going to happen. He wrapped his fist around his shaft and squeezed the base of his cock tightly, easing it from her mouth. 89

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“Lean back. Hands flat on the floor, if you can manage, and look at the ceiling.” With two flips of his wrist, he had the flogger twirling, the air moving her hair as he moved closer. He made the initial contact with her breast a teasingly light caress, from one to the other, for a half-dozen strokes and then moved to her stomach. He wasn’t at the correct angle to tease her pussy unless he changed tempo and he had a perfect rhythm going so he redirected his attention upward. “I’m close.” He had barely heard her, thought he might have actually been mistaken until she shifted her legs and immediately apologized. Holy fuck. Chris wanted to know if it was him. His ego wanted to believe it was his skill that had her ready to go again, with something as simple as a little flogging, but that probably wasn’t the case. She’d told him she had multiple-orgasmed before, so maybe he wasn’t special. He tossed the flogger aside and reached his arms around her to undo her ties. Unexpectedly, she leaned into him, her body molding to his as she buried her face against his chest and his fingers fumbled with the knots. If she was listening to his heartbeat she’d know it had just missed a beat or two. Control, man. Keep it together. He tossed the restraints aside, seeking comfort in the fact that a great sub craved the cuddle period as much as he enjoyed offering it. This wasn’t any different. Except they hadn’t really gotten to any of the hard stuff. He hadn’t really pushed her, or himself for that matter. He still needed to have her truly restrained, spread-eagle on the big bed as he brought her to the brink of orgasm time and time again. She’d beg for release and he’d refuse her. It was classic. It was easy. It was their plan. He set her gently away and rubbed her wrists, wondering if she would find the next phase, her donning leather wrist and ankle cuffs, even more exciting.

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Chris had a mountain of pillows at his back and Izzi in his arms. He’d really never felt quite as content and he smiled, placing a kiss on her still-damp forehead. She turned, her silky hair teasing his chin as she ran her lips over the smooth skin just above his heart. “I want you to make me come again,” she whispered. He tensed at her words, his hands stilling on her back. He hadn’t expected that. Had her statement been delivered in an insatiate tone, he’d have been a little less disturbed. But the dreamy timbre of her voice had his body screaming to full alert, ready to revise the initial plan. Or maybe just explain the protocol that equated the end of a session. “I want to feel you inside me and when I come, I want you to come with me, Chris.” Chris. There it was. Their safe word. The single word that unerringly marked the end of their play. “What we just did was amazing,” she said, running her fingertips through the hair at his temple before cradling his jaw in her small palm and urging his mouth toward hers. “But I want a little more. If you’re willing to give it. Right now, I want you, Chris. I need you.” His heart thundered as she placed a somewhat chaste kiss on his lips. With a few seemingly honest sentences, she had melded fantasy and reality into one. “That isn’t what we agreed to,” he replied. “I know. But contracts can always be revised. I learned that on the blog. If both parties are amenable.” She leaned back far enough that he could see the expectation in her eyes. She wanted him in both his forms. Master and man. The concept brought an ache to his chest. He stared into her hopeful gaze, his mind a swirling mass of confusion that eventually pinpointed one fact—their fucking plan had just imploded.

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Isabel waited, unsure what would happen next but stubborn enough to believe she’d done the right thing. She wanted him. Chris. Not some man who was able to keep himself detached from the wonderful sensations he was creating. Not a man who couldn’t let himself fully share in the ecstasy he was giving her. She wasn’t some deluded youth in a sexual haze. She’d had enough presence of mind not to say she wanted him to make love to her. But she couldn’t ask him to fuck her either. She didn’t see what they were doing as something that base. So asking him to come seemed middle-of-the-road when it came to sexual vernacular. But he hadn’t moved, other than to stop caressing her body. Maybe she shouldn’t have kissed him. But he’d kissed her before. Frustration was beginning to grow and she made a conscious effort to stifle it. She’d said his name, thrown their safe word out there, but with a twist. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His tone was harsh but his emerald gaze smoldered and it gave Isabel hope. “Yes. I do,” she said, unable to contain the tiny smile that parted her lips. “This isn’t the norm,” he said. “I think we passed normal when you switched me from spread-eagle to wrist-toankle bound in less than ten seconds.” She laughed and awaited his response. “Get your pretty little ass off me.” His growl was all for show and she laughed aloud. She rolled onto her side and offered him a sexy over-the-shoulder glance. “Face up or face—” He flipped her onto her back, ready to cover her with his strong body when he swore. He reached for his slacks and pulled his wallet from a back pocket, flipped it open and pulled out a condom. “We don’t need—”

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“Don’t you dare tell me what we need. You just get those legs up and do as you’re told. That’s how our nights together were supposed to go down.” His urgency stoked her desire and she smiled at the teasing he couldn’t keep out of his voice and raised her legs straight in the air, crossing her ankles to make a tight long line from toes to ass. She leaned her head to one side, and watched him stroke his cock, pleased he was enjoying the view. “Keep them just like that, Izzi. That’s a beautiful sight.” She heard the rip of foil and her pussy throbbed. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.” He leaned down and ran his fingers over her labia before surging forward and spearing her opening with his tongue. “What are you doing?” she gasped. “Lube’s in the other room. I’m making things wet,” he said, not moving his mouth very far. “Things are already wet. Get up here.” “I’ll let the bossiness slide. For now.” “Whatever,” she sighed, running her fingers up and down her labia. She was drenched. He leaned forward and shifted her feet to one side, resting the back of her ankles against his shoulder. His brows were furrowed as he stared at her. “You know this is going to be tight at first. I don’t want to hurt you.” “You won’t. A little less talk, please.” His smile faded as he ran his cock up and down her slit and gathered her wetness. He pressed slowly inside her channel and Isabel sucked in a deep breath. Having covered every inch of his thick cock with her mouth, she knew what to expect. He was average length but his girth filled her in a way no one ever had.

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He rocked his hips slowly, stretching her in a deliciously arousing manner and she rested her head on the pillow, wanting to memorize their first time together. “How’s that?” He pushed a little deeper and she smiled. “Nice.” “Nice?” He stopped moving and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her. The look of determination on his face was startling. He pressed his upper body forward, forcing her legs closer to her chest. The position forced his cock against her G-spot and when he eased back and slid slowly forward her whole body lurched. “Nice, huh?” He set a tempo that had her insides quivering in a matter of seconds and she reached for her legs, then his arms, trying to find something to grab on to. She settled for two handfuls of sheets as the heat encircled her lower body and the fullness blossomed. Her breasts ached and without thought she reached for them, tweaking her nipples as he continued to thrust. “That is so fucking hot,” he whispered, partially pulling out so that just his broad cock head rubbed against the spot and Isabel couldn’t stand anymore. She uncrossed her feet and he grabbed the backs of her legs, just below her knees, and spread her legs wide. The change in angle caused her body to break out in a sheen of sweat as her orgasm climbed. “I want you with me,” she cried, holding back. She’d congratulate herself later. Or him, for his spectacular tutoring. “A few more strokes, Izzi. Let yourself go, I’m right there. I fucking promise.” She relaxed and the climax slammed into her with a force that made her scream. In the distance she heard Chris’ grunts, thought she heard her name leave his lips as he plunged deep and emptied himself into the condom. She slid her legs down his body and he collapsed onto her. She stroked his back, ran her hands over his sculpted muscles. She really hadn’t ever lusted after bulky, muscular guys. Until now. Her insides were still spasming when he shifted his weight to his forearms.

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“You know, I could make you come again,” he whispered. “Don’t even try,” she warned, opening one eye to take in his smug expression. “And don’t get too full of yourself.” “Why? You gonna toss me aside and go fishing for another man you think will know you better?” He rolled to his side and pulled her into his embrace. “Don’t tempt me, MySecretMaster. You’re not the only person who offered to enlighten me.” She snuggled against him and tried to hide her smile of contentment. “I’ll tempt you all I want, Isabel, because you’re mine. To enlighten and so much more.” “Spoken like a true Dom,” she teased, running one finger down the middle of his chest. He grabbed her wrist before she reached his navel and brought her fingers to his lips for a quick kiss. “No, spoken like a man who knows what he wants. And I do want you. All of you. The kinky side that only we need to see, as well as the beautiful woman who’s out there for the rest of the world. Whether you want to be tied to my bed or sitting across from me at the bar, screaming for the wrong sports team.” She sighed heavily, wanting to believe it could work. “It sounds too perfect and you know what that means.” “Don’t jinx this before it’s started, Isabel.” He leaned back, demanding she look into his eyes. “I don’t do normal subterfuge well, so everyone is bound to know we’ve been together. What they won’t know is how well your nipples respond to being whipped or how I nearly shoot my load when you look up at me with those sexy green eyes and do the slow blink. Those can be secrets we don’t divulge.” “And when we’re across the bar from each other and I want you to take me into the back room and spank me, what then?” “Simple. Do what worked this time.”

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The coolness of the sheet touched her back and Isabel smiled as he cradled her face in his hands. His eyes sparkled and she knew she was going to like whatever it was he was about to say. “And what worked this time?” she asked. “Bring those sweet lips close and whisper those four special words.” Isabel’s mind raced, trying to figure out where he was headed, but everything was either too short or too long. Tie me up. Spank my ass. Chain me to the bed. “Okay. I give up,” she finally said. “Nice try, but not the four I was thinking of,” he said, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Just tell me,” she demanded, ignoring the way he arched his brow at her tone. “Want to go private?” She looked at him for a few heartbeats and raised her lips to his. “Yes I do, Chris. Those are the four words you’ll always get in return.” “That’s perfect, Isabel. Because those are the only four I’ll ever need.”

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About the Author M.A. Ellis is a firm believer that everyone should pursue their dreams…no matter how long it takes to achieve them. She wrote her first short story, What I Want To Be When I Grow Up, many decades ago. It was read by a total of seven people. (For those who are interested, the answer to that intriguing statement was a toss-up between a veterinarian and a nun.) Thanks to the encouragement of a creative writing guru at Northern Kentucky University, M.A. stepped out of her neat little writing boundaries and tried her hand at erotic poetry, which ultimately led her to where she is today—devising tales of hot encounters and steamy romances that always have happy endings. It’s a vocation she truly loves, equally as rewarding as furry, four-legged creatures and a heck of a lot more entertaining than Friday nights at the nunnery. Originally from the land of pierogies and black & gold sports memorabilia, M.A. now resides in southwest Florida, where she’s never at a loss for inspiration. The sunsets are always amazing, the fishing is stellar and weekly beach volleyball can definitely be considered a “research” mission. When not writing or reading, M.A. concentrates on honing her master baking skills, focusing on the realms of cheesecake and chocolate, which happen to be her favorite alliterations in all the world. M.A. welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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Also by M.A. Ellis Ellora’s Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile IV anthology Filigree and Fantasy Hallow’s Eve Hunk Just Press Play Love’s Ally Love’s Choice Seducing the Siren Shaken and Stirred The Cake Babe Twisted Steel and Sex Appeal

Print books by M.A. Ellis Aquamarine Allure anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile IV anthology Hard as Nails anthology Loves Choice Wet anthology

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

www.ellorascave.com