Read Online On His Terms by Sierra Cartwright - Free Book Online Page B

She pointed.
    He wondered if she was stalling.
    “Shall we?” He headed up the three steps to the wraparound porch. As he unlocked the heavy wooden door, she wrapped her arms around her middle, despite the mild evening weather. “After you.”
    Inside, she gasped. “I hate to be rude, and I know this isn’t protocol, but do you mind if I have a look around? This would be a perfect location for a charity fundraiser,” she said.
    “Do you ever stop?”
    “Are you kidding me?” she countered. “This house was designed for entertaining.”
    When the remodel had been completed, he’d envisioned hosting parties for business associates, here, along with an occasional lifestyle function. That she saw what he did intrigued him. “You can place your purse there,” he said.
    “Would you like me to take off my shoes?”
    “It’s not necessary. Yet.” But he appreciated her asking. He showed her the study, then the living room with its gas fireplace and stone hearth. He drew the curtains before heading towards the dining room, then the kitchen.
    The largest chunk of his funds had been spent on this part of the house, ripping down walls, opening the space, adding a glassed-in breakfast nook. Since he didn’t eat at home much, he took Marcus’ word that the appliances were a chef’s dream.
    “I love the combination of classic and contemporary throughout the whole place,” she said, running her fingers over the granite counters. “It really works. Seriously, Sir, you have to let me plan a party here.”
    Alex appreciated her enthusiasm. What he wouldn’t have given for Liz to have fallen in love with the house like Chelsea seemed to. “There’s a media centre downstairs,” he said. “And the bedrooms are upstairs.”
    As if she were a guest rather than a sub who’d be screaming within half an hour, he gave her a tour of the upper story, including the master suite.
    “You weren’t kidding about the hook in the footboard of your bed,” she said while rubbing her forearms.
    “I don’t joke about things like that. Now, go down to the living room. Strip. Leave your clothing and shoes near your purse. If the room is cold, there’s a switch on the wall for the fireplace. I want you kneeling, facing the window.”
    She looked up at him. The air seemed to sizzle. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Even the way she said it sounded submissive. Her tone as well as her volume had changed.
    Without another word, she left. He went into the cupboard in the master closet and selected two instructional pieces, along with a tawse designed by Master Marcus Cavendish. Fancifully, Marcus had etched a dollar symbol into the leather, in honour of the first million-dollar deal Alex had brokered.
    When he no longer heard sounds coming from downstairs, he joined her. He placed his belongings on a claw-footed end table, then rearranged a few things, waiting a long time before saying anything, testing her resolve. “Very nice,” he said. She was kneeling up the way he’d instructed that night at the Den.
    “Thank you, Sir.”
    “Louder.”
    She took a breath. “Thank you, Sir.”
    He folded his arms across his chest. “Inspect.” He was pleased when she stood, her head up, looking straight ahead to the window. She placed her hands behind her head and thrust out her breasts. Finally she spread her legs. “You remembered.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    She continued to look ahead even as he closed the distance. He walked around her a couple of times, and she remained perfectly in position. “And you shaved your cunt,” he observed.
    “I did, Sir.”
    “Mind if I see how good of a job you did?”
    “Please go ahead, Sir.”
    He ran his hand over her bare mound, then slipped a finger between her folds. “Smooth,” he said. “No stray hairs.”
    “You won’t be needing the tweezers, Sir?”
    “Not today.” He dropped his hand. He knew she had expectations about how this procedure would work, so he changed it up. “Turn around and