His touch to her cheek stopped the crazy train of her thoughts, and she widened her gaze. Would he hurt her? Of course not. She felt bad for even thinking it. This is Dean, the man you’ve fallen in love with in five days flat.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmured. She wasn’t given a chance to respond as he took his large, callused hand on a journey down the length of her neck. He popped the first button on her blouse free, and Catherine’s body all but purred. She let him pop another before she remembered her role and promptly smacked his hand away. He merely stared at her, with those too intense eyes of his, and seemed to enjoy watching her squirm, if the wicked smile that quickly crossed his face was any clue.
“If you don’t do it, I will,” he growled. “And it can be gentle or . . . not so gentle. The choice is yours, always.”
He seemed to be attempting to tell her something in that moment, but Catherine couldn’t be sure. Without a second thought, she cursed at him, using a few words she’d never said before. Catherine felt her cheeks heat, and she covered her mouth when she realized what she’d said. Had she crossed a line?
His face hardened and his mouth thinned. Before she could blink, Dean grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.
“Dean!” she yelled, forgetting the game a moment.
“No, you’re to call me master, remember?” He strode to the side of the bed, then put her back on her feet.
“What are you—” Catherine didn’t get a chance to finish the question as Dean turned her around to face the mattress. He bent her over, then moved to stand behind her. “I guess you want the not-so-gentle approach, huh?”
She didn’t know quite what he meant, until she felt her skirt being lifted. When Dean tore at her blue silk panties, Catherine froze. “No.”
Dean lowered over her and whispered into her ear, “Is that truly what you want? We’ll stop now and we’ll never have to open this door again. Your choice, Catherine. It’s always your choice.”
Did she want to stop before they’d even had a chance to start? Dean wouldn’t hurt her, not really. He wanted to bring her pleasure, he’d said. And she trusted him to keep his word. “No,” she decided. “I don’t want to stop.”
“Mmm, that’s my girl,” he said as he lifted off her. She heard Dean groan when he ripped the rest of her panties and they fell away from her body, revealing her bottom and the damp curls covering her mound. She felt his large hand again, only instead of caressing her face, it stroked her intimate flesh. As if he had the right. As if he owned her.
He smoothed his fingers up and then down, all the while holding her in place with his other hand. Not that she was struggling to break free. Wild horses couldn’t get her to move away from Dean’s caresses.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he said, “not until you desire it. Not until you ask me nicely.”
Despite his promise, Catherine knew she was helpless to him. She’d never felt so powerless. “I won’t beg,” she said, unsure if she spoke the truth.
He tsked. “You need to learn obedience, little slave.”
It wasn’t what she had expected from him, but then his hand moved away and she stiffened. She didn’t have to wait long to feel the first sting of the riding crop. Catherine yelped, more out of shock than actual pain. Her head dropped to the bed as tears stung her eyes.
“Will you take your clothes off on your own, or do you require more encouragement?”
“No,” Catherine growled. Crap, why had she said that? She didn’t really want him to spank her . . . did she?
There was another smack from the soft leather against her bottom, this one not quite as hard as the first. She groaned and bit down hard onto her lower lip. Catherine had taken her clothes off for Dean more than once already, but for some insane reason she’d wanted to feel that delicious sting against her flesh.
“Will you do as you’re told?”
Catherine nodded, giving in for the first time since they’d began the naughty game.
Dean cursed, then tossed the riding crop to the other side of the room. It hit the blinds and fell to the floor.
All sane thought fled as Catherine felt his hard cock against her upturned bottom. It was such a brief touch that she thought maybe she’d imagined it. Slowly, he stepped away and let her stand up.
“The clothes,” he softly demanded.
Catherine looked down her body and started undoing the pearl buttons littering the front of her blouse. After she released the last one and the material hung open, Dean pushed it off her shoulders. It pooled into a silk heap on the floor, and she dared to look up at him. The feral look in his eyes was something to behold. He was severely aroused and staring at her white, lace-covered breasts as if she were a feast.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “You may go into the bathroom and change. When you’re finished, come into the kitchen.”
Catherine couldn’t believe Dean was going to let her walk off and change clothes. She’d been all prepared to be ravished. She had envisioned stripping out of the rest of her clothes, then Dean would take her down onto the bed and they’d make love. When she remembered the chapters she’d read, Catherine recalled how Mira’s master had instructed her to dress in a specific outfit. To wear her hair a certain way. It’d turned Catherine on something fierce when she’d read how excited Mira had gotten when her master had seen her and known she’d followed his instructions to the letter. Mira had received a very special reward f
or such good behavior. Catherine knew that if she were going to follow the game, then she would need to go all the way. No half measures.
As she started across the room, Catherine looked back at Dean. His eyes were fixated on her bottom, which probably bore red marks from the crop. The heat in his gaze scorched Catherine to her marrow.