could feel was pride. She’d done well—very well—and he knew she’d deserved to win. Now, rather than nursing his wounded pride, he was looking forward to the next hour with anticipation, eagerness…and leeriness. Her demand that he kneel and wait for her rubbed against the grain.
He had no doubt she’d push his limits, his patience, and oddly enough, he couldn’t wait to watch her make the attempt. Checking the equipment one more time, he gritted his teeth and went to his knees. She took her sweet time getting ready. Obviously part of her master plan to make him pay for all he’d made her do and say during his fantasy.
He grinned as he recalled how beautiful she’d looked bent over his desk, her ass reddened by his spanking. She’d taken to his commands like a fish takes to water, but he knew submissiveness was not in her nature. She’d assumed the role, played it to perfection, but inside—deep inside—he knew that wasn’t who she was.
And, surprisingly, he didn’t give a shit. In the past, he’d grasped the reins of every relationship, wielding the whip, assuming it was his God-given right to run the show. The women he’d dated had let him hold that power. Frankie would never let him run roughshod over her. He’d learned from their previous sexual experiences and from their time spent working together that she knew her strengths, knew her value and she wouldn’t put those things away merely because he demanded to be in charge.
It was that fact that made her one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known.
The door to the bathroom opened and Frankie stepped into the room. There was no shyness, no timidity to her fluid grace. She was, in a word, magnificent.
His cock filled as she walked toward him. His vision blurred, but he refused to blink as he took in her catsuit, her black strappy high heels. Jesus. She held a riding crop in her hand and for a moment, he wondered what the hell he’d signed on for. He was reminded of Carter’s comments about her. Dominant definitely described this look.
Then he grinned. He could see his response took her aback for just a second. She recovered quickly. She always would. Frankie thought on her feet. Her quick wit would never leave her floundering for long.
“You might want to wipe that cocky grin off your face, Donovan. I’m not sure you understand your place here.”
He let the grin morph into a smirk and knew the image irked her. She hadn’t played the game by his rules, either. She’d been the mouthiest sub on the East Coast.
She shook her head, clearly disappointed in his effort. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
“Easy on me or easy on you?”
She gave him a wicked smile. “I don’t need easy. In fact,” she rubbed the tip of her riding crop along the front placket of his pants, outlining his erection “I prefer it hard.”
He bit back a groan at the pleasure her feather light touch on his cock provoked. Shit. Suddenly a new worry popped into his brain. There was no way he could withstand much of her torment without erupting far too early. She was hotter than shit in her Dominatrix outfit.
“Stand up, Reed.”
He slowly rose, attempting to adjust his pants as he did so. The zipper of his slacks was irritating his cock, and he tried to remember a time when he’d been harder.
She walked away from him, toward her desk. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”
For a split second, he thought perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe she’d put him out of his misery quickly. That thought was washed away when he watched her open her desk drawer and pull out a pair of manacles. Her plan flashed before his eyes. The wrist cuffs were separated by a foot of chain. No doubt she intended to bind him to this damn chin-up bar, naked as the day he was born.
The idea of giving her so much control made him uneasy. He’d never let a woman run the show, never let anyone have free rein over his body. He wasn’t sure he could do
He had no doubt she’d push his limits, his patience, and oddly enough, he couldn’t wait to watch her make the attempt. Checking the equipment one more time, he gritted his teeth and went to his knees. She took her sweet time getting ready. Obviously part of her master plan to make him pay for all he’d made her do and say during his fantasy.
He grinned as he recalled how beautiful she’d looked bent over his desk, her ass reddened by his spanking. She’d taken to his commands like a fish takes to water, but he knew submissiveness was not in her nature. She’d assumed the role, played it to perfection, but inside—deep inside—he knew that wasn’t who she was.
And, surprisingly, he didn’t give a shit. In the past, he’d grasped the reins of every relationship, wielding the whip, assuming it was his God-given right to run the show. The women he’d dated had let him hold that power. Frankie would never let him run roughshod over her. He’d learned from their previous sexual experiences and from their time spent working together that she knew her strengths, knew her value and she wouldn’t put those things away merely because he demanded to be in charge.
It was that fact that made her one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known.
The door to the bathroom opened and Frankie stepped into the room. There was no shyness, no timidity to her fluid grace. She was, in a word, magnificent.
His cock filled as she walked toward him. His vision blurred, but he refused to blink as he took in her catsuit, her black strappy high heels. Jesus. She held a riding crop in her hand and for a moment, he wondered what the hell he’d signed on for. He was reminded of Carter’s comments about her. Dominant definitely described this look.
Then he grinned. He could see his response took her aback for just a second. She recovered quickly. She always would. Frankie thought on her feet. Her quick wit would never leave her floundering for long.
“You might want to wipe that cocky grin off your face, Donovan. I’m not sure you understand your place here.”
He let the grin morph into a smirk and knew the image irked her. She hadn’t played the game by his rules, either. She’d been the mouthiest sub on the East Coast.
She shook her head, clearly disappointed in his effort. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”
“Easy on me or easy on you?”
She gave him a wicked smile. “I don’t need easy. In fact,” she rubbed the tip of her riding crop along the front placket of his pants, outlining his erection “I prefer it hard.”
He bit back a groan at the pleasure her feather light touch on his cock provoked. Shit. Suddenly a new worry popped into his brain. There was no way he could withstand much of her torment without erupting far too early. She was hotter than shit in her Dominatrix outfit.
“Stand up, Reed.”
He slowly rose, attempting to adjust his pants as he did so. The zipper of his slacks was irritating his cock, and he tried to remember a time when he’d been harder.
She walked away from him, toward her desk. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”
For a split second, he thought perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe she’d put him out of his misery quickly. That thought was washed away when he watched her open her desk drawer and pull out a pair of manacles. Her plan flashed before his eyes. The wrist cuffs were separated by a foot of chain. No doubt she intended to bind him to this damn chin-up bar, naked as the day he was born.
The idea of giving her so much control made him uneasy. He’d never let a woman run the show, never let anyone have free rein over his body. He wasn’t sure he could do
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