“Be careful,” I scold. “Sit.” Then my conscience pricks me. “You alright?” She winces at my gruff tone.
She reaches for her knee with a wince. “Well… I think I’m okay,” she says, but her voice is pained. “I just… it’s just…”
Her voice trails off when I take her smaller hand in mine. She’s cold, but her hands are soft and feminine. An unbidden thought rushes in.
I could take this hand and lead her well.
I swallow hard, sit on the sofa, and gently tug her hand so she’s sitting beside me.
“Show me.”
She blinks, and her mouth parts. She finally whispers, “Show you what, sir?”
Everything.
“Your knee, please.”
She blinks, then wordlessly points to her banged-up knee.
“That’ll bruise,” I murmur. My fingers find her thigh as I bend my head, brushing my lips against the lightly bruised skin in a soft kiss. A tremble runs through her at my touch. I’m no gentleman, but I can play the part.
She’s so responsive.
“I have some lotion that will help.” I rise and point my index finger at her. “You stay right there.”
She blinks, swallows, and nods, but doesn’t speak.
The irrational part of my brain fears that if I leave her, she’ll fly away, like a caged bird, and I must not let that happen.
I return later with a small tube of arnica cream and a bandage. I sit beside her, patting my knee. “Give me your leg.”
She bites her lip but obeys.
“Good girl.” She drapes her leg over mine, and my cock tightens against my zipper. Her nearness, her scent, and her utter trust is intoxicating. She trusts me.
She shouldn’t.
I frown at the little bruise and dab the lotion on. When my fingers touch her skin, she gasps. I freeze.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, sir,” she whispers.
I will.
“What is that you’re… putting on me?”
“It’s arnica. Will help prevent bruising.”
On your ass, on your thighs… I don’t have this here for typical first aid. I haven’t even seen her skin yet but can already imagine what it looks like striped red.
“How clever. I never heard of it.”
A kink virgin, then?
Is anything else about her virginal?
Jesus.
When she’s doctored up, I lean back and observe her.
“How long have you worked with… the escort company?”
If I call it by name, I’ll lose the little self-control I still have.
Her eyes flit left as she looks away. “Oh, I’m a new… hire.”
Of course she is. There’s no way a woman like her would’ve passed my attention. But I don’t like her looking away from me. I reach for her chin and place it between my thumb and forefinger, dragging her gaze to mine.
It’s time we set the ground rules.
“Eyes on me when we’re speaking.” Time for her first test. “I didn’t give you permission to look away.”
Her eyes grow even wider, but she nods and holds my gaze.
“Now answer the question. How long?”
“Today’s my first day,” she whispers, eyes still on me. “And what do you mean by permission?”
“You’ll see soon enough. First day? So you’ve never had another client?”
“Absolutely not.”
Jealous possession flares through me. I move my hand so I’m cupping the back of her head, my fingers lacing through the silky soft curls.
“I like that answer,” I tell her truthfully. I could teach her.
Hell yes.
She needs to relax. “Would you like a drink?”
She nods, her soft curls bouncing. “Yes, please.”
“Your name?”
She swallows hard. “Katie.”
I release her reluctantly and get to my feet. “What’s your drink?”
“Um… do you have wine?”
“Of course. What kind?”
“White?”
“No preference?”
“Not too dry?”
Adorable.
I pour her a generous glass of white Zinfandel and rejoin her. I want to test her, to really see if she has what I’m looking for.
I hold the glass just out of her reach.
“Um. Thank you?” she says tentatively.
“Say ‘please, sir.’”
I watch her response. She shifts on the couch, her pupils dilate, and she wipes her palms on her dress. Her eyes widen even further, and her lips part.
“Please, sir?” she asks.
I nod and give her the wine. “Good girl.” I sit back down beside her. “Let’s talk about the rules here.”
“Rules?”
“Yes, Katie. Rules.” And consequences. “Our contract will begin this evening and end in the morning. While under my roof, you’ll obey what I tell you and do what I ask. I have certain… tastes. But I’ll pay you well.”
I’ll make her come until she’s hoarse, until she forgets to breathe, until my touch is branded on her skin.
She nods. “Well,” she says, as if to herself. “I’m here for a reason, and I—” She looks back to me. “Yes, sir.”
What is her reason?
She shouldn’t cave so easily. She should at least have doubts, but it doesn’t seem that she does.
I place my hand deliberately on her thigh, where the dress rides up and bares her skin. She shivers under my touch and takes a long drink from her wine glass. I squeeze her thigh, a gentle pressure to show I’m in control of this.