“Second of all, have you ever heard the phrase, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it? Or how about people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones? I’m no saint. I’m not without my own issues. I’ve got a past I’m not proud of. But I’m pretty sure you haven’t led the life of an angel, am I right?”
She nodded. Too shocked to speak.
There was a beat or two of silence. And she knew she had to be the one who broke it. She’d screwed things up.
“I’m sorry.”
He drummed his fingers on the table, looking irritated. “Why? You’re only saying what most people think.”
“They don’t.”
“What?”
“They don’t think that,” she whispered. “About you. People often wonder about you. Your past. But you have a lot of people who think you’re a good guy.”
He looked surprised. His fingers stilled.
“Well, Logan Ferguson isn’t your biggest fan. But then I think you enjoy needling him. He feels the same towards you.”
He frowned. “You think Ferguson likes pricking me?”
“Yep. On the days he doesn’t see you at the diner, he usually leaves with a sad look on his face.”
He snorted, but a smile danced at the corners of his lips.
“I’m sorry if I insulted you,” she told him. “It’s hard for me to trust. And I don’t know about any of that BDSM stuff.”
“People often mistake it for abuse. But everything is fully agreed upon. Ever heard the phrase safe, sane, and consensual? I have safety monitors watching all activity. Everyone has to fill out and sign a contract with their limits. They need to pass medical examinations. And before entering a scene with partners they haven’t engaged with before or in a while, there will be negotiations. Communication and honesty are
key. A Dom isn’t someone who is simply interested in dishing out pain. Some Doms are sadists, yes. But they don’t want to give pain to someone who doesn’t enjoy it. Unless it’s punishment, of course.”
Curiosity filled her. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him sound so passionate. “What do you enjoy about being a Dom?”
“I enjoy being in complete control. I like knowing that my submissive trusts me enough to let me take charge. I like to show a sub new experiences. To challenge them. I’ll push. But only as far as I think they can take. And I like knowing they trust me to know where that line is.”
“And what about the submissives? What do they get?”
He stood and moved over to her, turning her to face the sink. He stepped in close behind her. She attempted to step away, but he held her around the waist. “No, you asked the question. Don’t move away before you get the answer.”
“I’m not submissive.”
“But you’re a submissive. That can be something very different. Someone can be very powerful in business. Can make decisions all day that affect the lives of hundreds, then come home and surrender themselves in the bedroom to their partner. Give everything over to them, knowing and trusting their partner will give them precisely what they need.”
His voice wove a hypnotic spell over her, and she found herself leaning back into his warm, hard body. She could see the picture he was describing.
“Put your arms up around my neck,” he commanded.
She moved as though in a dream, unable to resist the order.
“A submissive can give up all their worries, all their anxieties and just be, knowing their Dominant has their back. Many find it empowering.”
He ran his fingers up her sides, just the lightest touch. Her breath caught in her throat. He was barely touching her and yet she was so turned on she could barely breathe. His fingers brushed over the sides of her breasts, and she dropped her arms instinctively.
He stilled. Grew tense. “You weren’t given permission to move, Aspen.”
His voice wasn’t nasty. It wasn’t raised. But she heard the disapproval. And she desperately wanted that warm, honeyed voice to return.
She raised her arms again. He relaxed and brushed his lips over her ear. “Good girl. Move them again without permission and you’ll get a demonstration of some of those consequences I talked about earlier.”