Until she disappeared.
Now, she stood before him. Wanting to be submissive. His submissive. Rem had the chance to find the truth, and experience the one thing that haunted him throughout the years.
Cara Winter's full submission.
He motioned to the velvet chaise. "Sit down and let's talk first."
Her fingers clenched, and then slowly relaxed. Her chest rose as she dragged in a breath, calming herself, and walked over to the chaise. Her motions were elegant. Simplified. She'd grown into herself and achieved full power, owning her curves and body with a pride that elicited a raw lust. Her breasts spilled over the black corset, cinching in at the waist and flaring at the hips. The black skirt barely covered her full ass, clinging to her flesh and stretching to accommodate as she strode across the room. Muscled legs flexed, working the four inch black stilettos, he'd instructed her to wear. Rem imagined her heels digging into his thighs as he fucked her. Imagined her spread-eagled against the wall, while those heels tilted her ass up like a gift made for him and only him.
Fuck. He needed to get his shit together before she realized he was acting like a horny teen rather than an experienced Dom. She couldn't know how badly he'd missed her, or how often he'd thought of her over the years. If he was to own her submission, he needed to be in full control at all times.
Rem re-focused and sat across from her. Steepling his fingers together, he waited in perfect silence, gathering his thoughts. The old Cara would've ducked her head. Fidgeted. Sighed impatiently. The new Cara looked back at him with a steady gaze, completely still, and focused on his next action. His gut twisted in arousal, warring with anger. Where had she learned such control? How many men had she given herself to after she ran from him? Had he been so disappointing she needed to replace him? Rem tamped down on the bitterness and spoke. "I'd like a bit more background before we continue. I received your list of hard and soft limits. Is there anything I need to know about that's a trigger?"
"No," she said quietly.
He'd memorized the list so he ticked off the items that concerned him. "Flogging is acceptable. You said no blood or scarring. What about marking? Bruises?"
"Marks or light bruising is fine."
"Anal is a soft limit. Have you tried it before?"
"I've never tried it but I'm curious."
"You've played with an array of toys before. What's your favorite?"
Her skin flushed a delicate pink. "Vibrator with clitoral stimulator."
"Yes, one of my favorites, too." Her flush deepened but she kept her gaze on his. Nice. "Sexual intercourse is permissible?"
"Yes."
"You want me to push your limits, Cara. Hard. I need to be sure you're ready for this. I'm a strict Dom, and I will do things to your body, to your mind, that will break you down. I will go deep, and if you fight me, I'll fight back."
Her pupils dilated, so her eyes turned more gold than green. She swallowed and twisted her fingers together. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Sir."
The title sang in his ears and stiffened his dick. How long had he craved her to call him Sir without prompting? The term did odd things to his heart, bringing back a tidal rush of memories he didn't want to probe. He kept his attention on the moment, to the woman she was now, and what she needed from him.
Because his fantasy had been the same exact thing.
A woman he could break. A woman he could conquer. A woman he could heal.
A woman who could heal him.
"What is your safe word?"
"Red."
"You will use yellow to slow things down. Do you have any concerns before we begin?"
"Remington?"
His name rolling from her plump lips nearly brought him to his knees. She used to whisper in his ear right before she came, as if repeating his name over and over helped her hold onto something stable. He fought to keep the emotion from his face. "You will call me Sir."
Grief flickered in her green eyes but he convinced himself it was just a trick of the light. "I'm sorry, Sir. I need to know if this -- if this is okay. Should we talk about what happened?"
"We both have something the other needs. Tomorrow, we'll part and never see each other again. Tonight, you will not lie to me. You will give me everything I ask, and I will take care of you because I'm your Dom until dawn. Do you understand?"
Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down hard, as if trying to find her courage. Rem studied her. Waited. Now was the time fear struck, and the reality of their situation was total. The ghosts of the past shimmered around them, taunting. It was her decision. He only had as much control as she gave him, and she needed to be ready if the evening would be what they both craved.
Her breath shuddered from her chest. "I understand."
Rem cocked his head.
"Sir."
"Very good. Our scene will begin. Please go to the edge of the bed, remove your clothes, and greet me in sub position."
Cara rose from the chaise, walked to the edge of the king size platform bed, and began untying her corset.
Chapter Four
THE SHEER INTENSITY OF THE SCENE unveiled before her and part of her wanted to scream "Red" and get the hell out of dodge.
Cara couldn't believe he wanted to stay. When she took off without warning, she told herself it was for the best. She didn't want him to believe in a future that didn't exist for them. Through the years, Cara had accepted the truth of what she had done to the man she loved. She'd brutally hurt him in order to avoid confrontation. To avoid the questions he would've asked and she wouldn't have wanted to answer.
But he was here. Tonight, she'd been given a second chance to be the submissive she dreamed of being with him. Cara refused to run again, no matter how difficult facing his pain and her choices became.
She concentrated on the automatic motions of her fingers as she unlaced the corset from the front, and shimmied out of the material. Her large breasts hung free, the cool air caressing her nipples and turning them into tight points. Cara bent to pull down her skirt, and step out of the minuscule fabric. Excitement gathered low in her belly as each item of clothing was removed, until she stood naked in front of her Dom, bared for only his pleasure.
Remington feasted on her with his gaze, touching every inch of skin as if he planned exactly what he was going to do with her. When they'd been in college, Cara had been ashamed of her body. She compared herself to magazine covers and skinny models, always finding herself lacking, wondering when he'd leave her. Rem always punished her for insulting what he said belonged to both of them. She never realized the gift he'd given her early in life, his complete and total devotion to every single part of her.
She just hadn't been ready to accept the gift.
This time, she reveled in the raw lust that twisted his lips and gleamed from his blue eyes. This time, she stood proudly in front of him, knowing he received pleasure from her full breasts and curves, her generous ass and the way she held her shoulders back.
"Should I take off the shoes, Sir?" she asked.
"You may leave them on."
The burgundy carpet was plush and thick. She dropped gracefully to her knees, widening her stance, clasping her hands behind her back to thrust out her breasts. Her head bent slightly as she dropped her gaze downward. Cara focused on the breath filling her lungs. In. Out. Calm began to seep into her, bit by bit, and her surroundings came into glorious, sharp awareness.
His scent hit her first. Pleasure tingled her nerve endings from the intoxicating swirl of mint and cloves, a customized cologne she'd always adored. The lash of his body heat tempted her to look up, but she didn't move. His black loafers squeaked slightly as he walked around her. The anticipation built, fueling her adrenalin, and Cara fought the instinct to participate in the ritual. Years ago, she would've lifted her head to peek, or arch toward him for his touch. Not now. She'd learned the slow building tension only made the explosion more satisfying. She wanted desperately to show him how she'd changed.
His hand stroked her hair, lifting the strands and combing his fingers through it. A moan hovered on her lips. His touch was pure heaven, and she ached for more. "You cut your hair. Straightened it, too."
"Yes, Sir."
"I like it. The style suits you."
"Thank you, Sir."
He continued his inspection, his hands caressing her shoulders, exploring her firm flesh as he traced the line of her spine and drew goose bumps. He cupped her ass cheeks, pinching slightly, and then dipped one finger between her legs.
"You're wet."
Embarrassment hit, but she was already too turned on to care. Her pussy was swollen and tight. She loved being on display for him, ready to do what he commanded. The sheer freedom of giving herself over to this man who'd once held her heart in an iron grip coursed through her like a delicious drug.