“You don’t know me well enough to make that call.”
“I’d beg to differ.”
There was a flash of desire in his eyes that sent a spark of longing throughout her body, especially when he whispered, “When I have you beg, it won’t be about that.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I look forward to it, Sir.”
The rest of their dinner was charged. Every move he made seemed somehow sexual: from the way he held his fork, to the way his lips parted. It was the most absurd thing when she tried to rationalize it. He was only eating spaghetti. Yet with every bite, every sip, every swallow, his body called to her.
She shifted in her seat as they waited for the bill, hoping to alleviate the dull ache between her legs that screamed for his touch. He’d said she wasn’t to come without his permission, but he’d made no mention of playing tonight. She watched him sign the receipt, the entire time imagining his hands on her, holding her, claiming her.
A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, and she squirmed again.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, forcing her body to be still.
“Another pesky thing about me is that I require absolute honesty at all times.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
“Damn it,” she mumbled. She was willing to bet he knew exactly what her problem was and he was going to force her to say it.
“Not answering a direct question? And swearing? Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re compiling quite a list of infractions. Should make for a memorable night in my playroom.”
His expression was serious, but she felt certain there was a trace of humor lingering behind his eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. She didn’t want him to be joking—she thought.
“I looked over your checklist,” he said. “I know your limits. If you’d like to come to my house and for us to pick up where we left off last night, say ‘Yes, Sir.’ If not, say ‘No, Sir,’ and I’ll either take you back to your apartment or we can go for a walk and get to know each other better. The choice is yours and yours alone.”
She’d played with a few Doms after leaving her old Master, but none of them had near the intensity Jeff had. He practically oozed control and dominance, and she wanted to experience what he was offering. She had alerted her safety call earlier in the evening; she’d just follow up with her again on the way to Jeff’s.
The words left her mouth as soon as she decided. “Yes, Sir.”
Victory and possibly relief flashed across his expression. “Let’s leave.”
They walked together through the crowded restaurant, this time with Jeff leading the way. She was fine with that since walking behind him meant she could check out his ass again.
“Hey, Jeff,” the man at the hostess station said, coming out from behind the table and blocking their way. “I didn’t know you were here tonight. How’ve you been?”
“Doing well, Ike,” Jeff said, his voice tighter than normal. “Excellent food as always. We enjoyed everything.”
At Jeff’s use of the word “we” Ike looked her way, and his eyes widened in recognition.
Damn it, no!
But she couldn’t do anything but smile and nod as the pudgy man spoke to her. “Hello, Ms. Jenkins. We’re honored you dined with us tonight. I trust everything was to your liking.”
She risked a peek at Jeff. He was looking at Ike as if the man had grown horns and pointy ears.
“Everything was superb; thank you for asking,” she said with her well-practiced fake smile.
“You two know each other?” Jeff asked.
Ike shook his head. “I’ve never had the pleasure before tonight of talking with Ms. Jenkins, but I’ve been a supporter of her dad for years.”
Clearly it had taken less than a second for Jeff to make the connection in his head. He looked at her, and dread filled her stomach. Damn it. She wasn’t ready to tell him. She wanted to wait until later. Much later.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Jeff said, his voice flat. “I need to be getting Ms. Jenkins home.”
He didn’t speak as they made their way to his truck. He was silent as he opened her door and helped her inside. She was so on edge, she jumped when he closed it. All the sexual tension that had been so prevalent during dinner had evaporated, and all she felt was cold.
It wasn’t until he pulled out of the parking lot and turned in the direction of her apartment complex that he spoke. “Dena J. Dena Jenkins. You’re Senator Jenkins’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
“It really doesn’t change anything,” she said, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible.
“No, Ms. Jenkins. It changes everything.”
Chapter Three
Present day
Twenty minutes ago, being late for the demo hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea. The phone call from the stranger had caught her off guard. She’d answered the phone because she was expecting a work call and thought the unknown number might have been it.
Whoever it was laughed when she said hello and then he’d hung up.
It took ten minutes in the bathroom to stop shaking, and she knew she was horribly late to the demo. At the time, playing the forgetful submissive seemed like a good idea. And if he’d already canceled the demo and punished her, well, it would still be more than what she normally got from him.
“Undress,” he said. “Then go get the leather strap from my bag and I want you over my knees.”
Damn the man. She stood up and slowly undressed, taking her time. Naked, she jerked the strap from his bag. A spanking was one thing, but she hated the strap. Which, of course¸ he knew.
She knelt before him and held out the strap.
“Thank you, Dena. Is there something you’d like to say?”
He was falling back into their old punishment ritual. Next she was supposed to thank him for caring enough about her to correct her when she messed up. She grew furious. He never called, they rarely talked, and he expected her to happily fall into place like she still wore his collar?
“Yes, Sir. I have something to say.”
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Fuck you, Sir.”
Damn him even more. He didn’t even look angry. He simply smiled. “You just added ten strokes.”
“I’d beg to differ.”
There was a flash of desire in his eyes that sent a spark of longing throughout her body, especially when he whispered, “When I have you beg, it won’t be about that.”
She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I look forward to it, Sir.”
The rest of their dinner was charged. Every move he made seemed somehow sexual: from the way he held his fork, to the way his lips parted. It was the most absurd thing when she tried to rationalize it. He was only eating spaghetti. Yet with every bite, every sip, every swallow, his body called to her.
She shifted in her seat as they waited for the bill, hoping to alleviate the dull ache between her legs that screamed for his touch. He’d said she wasn’t to come without his permission, but he’d made no mention of playing tonight. She watched him sign the receipt, the entire time imagining his hands on her, holding her, claiming her.
A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, and she squirmed again.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, forcing her body to be still.
“Another pesky thing about me is that I require absolute honesty at all times.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
“Damn it,” she mumbled. She was willing to bet he knew exactly what her problem was and he was going to force her to say it.
“Not answering a direct question? And swearing? Tsk, tsk, tsk. You’re compiling quite a list of infractions. Should make for a memorable night in my playroom.”
His expression was serious, but she felt certain there was a trace of humor lingering behind his eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. She didn’t want him to be joking—she thought.
“I looked over your checklist,” he said. “I know your limits. If you’d like to come to my house and for us to pick up where we left off last night, say ‘Yes, Sir.’ If not, say ‘No, Sir,’ and I’ll either take you back to your apartment or we can go for a walk and get to know each other better. The choice is yours and yours alone.”
She’d played with a few Doms after leaving her old Master, but none of them had near the intensity Jeff had. He practically oozed control and dominance, and she wanted to experience what he was offering. She had alerted her safety call earlier in the evening; she’d just follow up with her again on the way to Jeff’s.
The words left her mouth as soon as she decided. “Yes, Sir.”
Victory and possibly relief flashed across his expression. “Let’s leave.”
They walked together through the crowded restaurant, this time with Jeff leading the way. She was fine with that since walking behind him meant she could check out his ass again.
“Hey, Jeff,” the man at the hostess station said, coming out from behind the table and blocking their way. “I didn’t know you were here tonight. How’ve you been?”
“Doing well, Ike,” Jeff said, his voice tighter than normal. “Excellent food as always. We enjoyed everything.”
At Jeff’s use of the word “we” Ike looked her way, and his eyes widened in recognition.
Damn it, no!
But she couldn’t do anything but smile and nod as the pudgy man spoke to her. “Hello, Ms. Jenkins. We’re honored you dined with us tonight. I trust everything was to your liking.”
She risked a peek at Jeff. He was looking at Ike as if the man had grown horns and pointy ears.
“Everything was superb; thank you for asking,” she said with her well-practiced fake smile.
“You two know each other?” Jeff asked.
Ike shook his head. “I’ve never had the pleasure before tonight of talking with Ms. Jenkins, but I’ve been a supporter of her dad for years.”
Clearly it had taken less than a second for Jeff to make the connection in his head. He looked at her, and dread filled her stomach. Damn it. She wasn’t ready to tell him. She wanted to wait until later. Much later.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Jeff said, his voice flat. “I need to be getting Ms. Jenkins home.”
He didn’t speak as they made their way to his truck. He was silent as he opened her door and helped her inside. She was so on edge, she jumped when he closed it. All the sexual tension that had been so prevalent during dinner had evaporated, and all she felt was cold.
It wasn’t until he pulled out of the parking lot and turned in the direction of her apartment complex that he spoke. “Dena J. Dena Jenkins. You’re Senator Jenkins’s daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
“It really doesn’t change anything,” she said, trying to make her voice sound as normal as possible.
“No, Ms. Jenkins. It changes everything.”
Chapter Three
Present day
Twenty minutes ago, being late for the demo hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea. The phone call from the stranger had caught her off guard. She’d answered the phone because she was expecting a work call and thought the unknown number might have been it.
Whoever it was laughed when she said hello and then he’d hung up.
It took ten minutes in the bathroom to stop shaking, and she knew she was horribly late to the demo. At the time, playing the forgetful submissive seemed like a good idea. And if he’d already canceled the demo and punished her, well, it would still be more than what she normally got from him.
“Undress,” he said. “Then go get the leather strap from my bag and I want you over my knees.”
Damn the man. She stood up and slowly undressed, taking her time. Naked, she jerked the strap from his bag. A spanking was one thing, but she hated the strap. Which, of course¸ he knew.
She knelt before him and held out the strap.
“Thank you, Dena. Is there something you’d like to say?”
He was falling back into their old punishment ritual. Next she was supposed to thank him for caring enough about her to correct her when she messed up. She grew furious. He never called, they rarely talked, and he expected her to happily fall into place like she still wore his collar?
“Yes, Sir. I have something to say.”
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Fuck you, Sir.”
Damn him even more. He didn’t even look angry. He simply smiled. “You just added ten strokes.”
