“And you don’t love me,” she continued, her voice matter-of-fact. “Correct?”
He held his hands out to his sides, clearly confused by her line of questioning. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it. Don’t you see? You’re scared of harming me, of repeating the past, right?”
His lips pressed into a line.
“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about what you’ve been through, but you had a relationship with that woman. Love. That can tear you apart. Can devastate you. But what we’re doing isn’t that. This is a week. It’s fun, sex, and kink. I’m not pledging my lifelong allegiance to you. You don’t need to be responsible for me. I just want to have this experience with you and enjoy it.”
A battle warred in his solemn stare. “But what you said earlier scares me. When feelings get involved, things get messy and dangerous.”
She reached across to slide her hands over his knees, feeling stronger than she had in a long time. “Maybe it’s okay if I feel some things. I’ve lived most of my adult life completely numb. Of course something as intense as D/s is going to stir up those unused emotions, but that doesn’t mean they need to be attached to anything significant.”
“But—”
She smiled. “You make heat-of-the-moment declarations. I have heat-of-the-moment feelings. Doesn’t make them real. But when I’m in a scene with you, when you’re pushing me, I feel more free than I have in as long as I can remember. I want to be able to let go and have a good time with you. Being with you makes me feel like I don’t have a past for a little while.” Like all the dirt is washed away.
He watched her, his jaw twitching and his hands braced on the seat.
“And maybe you need that, too,” she said, her determination building and her voice lowering as she slid her hands up his thighs. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you take the reins, Wyatt. My skin goes hot just thinking about you standing over me. You shouldn’t have to deny that part of yourself. And you shouldn’t deny me.”
His gaze darkened as it slowly tracked down the length of her throat and the vee of her blouse, then back up to meet her eyes again. “You must be a goddamned force in the dungeon, love. You’re sweet temptation wrapped in the armor of a seductress. Men must go stupid at your feet.”
She smiled. “I could always tie you up instead. You could see how you like it at the bottom.”
He growled and then he was pitching forward, grabbing her wrists and pinning her back against her seat. “Not a fucking chance, love. And you don’t want me that way. That won’t make your body go soft and wet like you did for me this morning.”
Her heart was thumping in her ears, the sudden shift in Wyatt welcome but overwhelming her senses. His scent, the soft scrape of his dress shirt against her inner arms, the powerful hold—it all coalesced into instant, throbbing need. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “I don’t want to spend the week not touching you. So we’re both a little fucked up. Can’t we be fucked up together?”
“I won’t survive not touching you either,” he said, defeat in his breathless voice. “I can barely share a damn car with you without wanting to pounce.”
“So stop fighting it,” she said softly.
He let out a long, weary breath against the back of her neck. “If we do this, you have to swear not to run from me each time. Treat me as your dom. You have a problem or issue, you come to me. Shut me out and this ends. You scare me when you go quiet.”
The prospect of being that open to any man was daunting. But she knew it was the only way he’d feel safe with her. If she shut down after a scene, he was going to worry she was spiraling to some dark place. “I promise. Sir.”
He lifted her face to him, his eyes flaring blue flame. “I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that.”
“Touch me, sir. Please.” She needed him against her, swiping away all the memories they’d kicked up, all the ugly ghosts.
One hand lowered, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple through the soft cotton of her blouse. She arched into his gentle touch, hoping he was about to take her right there in the backseat. But in her haze of having him over her, she hadn’t realized the limo had stopped.
There was a quick rap on the door and then the sound of the handle being pulled. She froze. Wyatt grinned and gave a sharp pinch to her nipple, making her groan. “Guess I should’ve told him to take the long way.”
The driver cleared his throat, obviously noticing what he’d interrupted. “We’re here, Mr. Austin.”
Wyatt looked over his shoulder as the warm, salty breeze filtered into the car, clearly not at all concerned about being seen in a compromising position. “Thank you. We’ll be right out.”
He pushed himself back onto his seat and straightened her blouse for her. She brushed her hair off her face, trying to cool her flushed skin. “Some proper debutante I am.”
He reached out to take her hand and guide her toward the door, his smile rakish. “Whoever said I wanted proper?”
The driver took her hand from Wyatt’s and guided her out of the car. “Watch your step, Miss. The gravel isn’t even.”
“Thank you,” she said, trying to get her footing in the wedge sandals she’d chosen for today. The breeze whipped through her hair, filling her nose with the scent of ocean, and she had to grab for her skirt before it attempted a Marilyn Monroe moment.Author: Roni Loren
The driver gave her an amused smile and tipped his hat at her before turning his attention to Wyatt. Wyatt climbed out of the limo, his open collar flapping in the breeze, and paid the driver. Even in the casual chinos and an untucked shirt, the man reeked of power and money. How the hell was she going to pull off that same kind of image for this trip?