“When were you last here?” I asked.
“About a month ago.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“No!” He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”
“The way she looked at you.”
“I’m not saying she wouldn’tlikeme to fuck her, or to paddle her, cane her, and have her begging for mercy because she just can’t handle another orgasm, but that’s not to say I’m going to do that.”
My mouth dried at the thought of not being able to handle another orgasm. Was that even a thing?
“But I might dominate her,” he said.
“Jonathan?”
“The thing is.” He stopped, then pressed me against the wall. His lips hovered over mine and his palms flattened on the wall either side of my head. “I only want to fuckyou, Freya. You’re my woman. You own my heart. But I have needs, Dominant needs, and I can come here and satisfy them without having sex.”
“Go on.”
“So I’m not cheating, if I come here and flog Anouka, make her come with a vibrator, I’m still yours.”
I touched his ruggedly handsome face, stroking over his cheek then down his nose which had a bump in the centre.
“You fuck Ricardo,” he said, “because you need more than one man in your life. And the only way you can do that is to have men like us, like me, who understand desire and kink and different ways of having a relationship.”
I nodded. “What you’re saying is true.”
“I know.” He kissed me. “And my love for you is true. Never doubt it.”
He skimmed his hand down my neck, over my right breast and then slid it around my waist. “But enough talking. I want you naked and screaming my name.”
Chapter Five
“Jonathan.” It wasn’t a scream, more of a gasp.
“Hold on,” he said, curling his hands over mine.
He’d taken me to a private booth and drawn the curtain across so we couldn’t be seen. Then, once I was naked, he’d stood me beneath a bar and raised my arms.
“Hold it tight,” he said against my forehead. “You’ll be punished if you release it before I tell you to.”
“Yes… Master.”
“Good girl.”
I was rewarded for my rare use of the word Master by a lovely, deep kiss. His tongue swept over mine and his lips were firm.
When he pulled back he tugged a lever to his right. The small bar I was holding raised.
“Don’t let go,” he ordered.
“Fuck,” I muttered as my arms stretched, then my torso. I had to go up on my toes to hold on. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to maintain the grip.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, tracing the shape of my arms, my outer breasts, waist and hips. “How do you feel?” He slid back up again.
“Stretched, Master.”