Something else we shouldn’t be thinking about, dear.
What she’d said to Parker was practically the exact opposite of her tough girl pep talk, wasn’t it? Her mouth had said the words, and an instant later her mind was screaming, trying to claw them back in. If she was honest about it, yes, the idea more than intrigued her. It made her pussy wet. But just because it excited her, didn’t make it a good idea. Heroin excites a dope addict, but it doesn’t mean it’s something to be “explored” further.
Maybe he had what Terry didn’t though? Maybe Parker had the steel to match those hard eyes? Could he be caring and harsh, instead of just a prick? Would she take just plain harsh if he wasn’t a complete asshole, Terry-style?
Setting the bar a tad low aren’t you, Ashley?
There was a time, when she thought she loved Terry, that she felt she would do just about anything for him. What would she do if the man she loved really loved her back? She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.
No, there was no use in bullshitting herself about it. If Parker could be those things, she feared she would be lost to him. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to just lay down and let him take it without a fight.
She threw the dress down on top of the dresser. Maybe she would try on her heels though too.
Just in case.
Chapter Nine
He wanted to tell Drake about this, but something told him it wasn’t time. No sense in throwing the little girl in the deep end when he didn’t need to.
Yet.
The maitre’ d, Sean, had offered to lock up early, but Parker didn’t think the wait staff would appreciate the hit to their tips they’d take for missing three hours of the busiest night of the week. Especially in this economy. Fortunately, it wasn’t truly busy, and the restaurant’s lighting and layout was designed such that one wasn’t entirely sure how many customers were dining, whether it was actually busy or not.
Sean gave him the private alcove all the way in the back, furthest from the kitchen doors, and allowing Parker the best view of the front entrance. Parker still wasn’t sure she’d show. Maybe he’d read her wrong?
It didn’t matter though because it was time to push the issue a bit. Time to stop wondering.
He saw her slip in, and at first didn’t recognize the woman as Ashley. That dress of hers was murder, even from across the restaurant. It hugged her round hips, much as he imagined he’d be doing someday soon. The straps of the dress reached up and clasped behind her neck. Her hair was up, no doubt leaving a pleasing expanse of upper back bare to the appreciative eye. Her breasts were mounded up at the low cut bodice. He wondered how she was even wearing a bra in that dress. He hoped that she wasn’t. But most of all, it seemed she had followed his instructions.
Mostly.
He glanced at his watch. 9:15. He’d have to speak with her about that. She needed to know right from the beginning what it was she could expect. What he expected from her.
Sitting forward in his chair, he adjusted the slacks of his suit to give his hardening cock some room.
She looked around the restaurant, and then Sean walked up to her. She said something to him and flashed a tentative smile. Sean pointed her in Parker’s direction, and her eyes followed, spotting him at the back.
Parker stifled the urge to raise his hand to her, knowing he needed to play this one aloof for now. He could tell she was nervous, and uncertain. Both would work to his advantage.
Watching her walk toward his table, he could tell from her mincing gait, and the exaggerated sway of her hips that she’d chosen the heels. Another point in her favor. His good girl.
“Stop,” Parker said.
Ashley flashed a nervous glance around, her brow knit. She stood next to the table.
“Turn around, Ashley.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth moved. He leveled his gaze at her, motionless.
“Ashley. Now, please.”
Her lips thinned to a line, but she did as ordered, the movement somewhat halting. She was evidently unused to moving in tall heels. She’d just have to get used to them if she were his.
Soon.
“Stop there. No, don’t turn around yet.”
He drew a breath between his teeth. She was magnificent. The dress clung to her ass like a jealous lover, clutching her lush buttocks in a tight embrace. Someone dropped a metal pan in the kitchen, the sudden muffled clang making her jerk.
He smiled.
The fabric was low cut, exposing the paleness of her back. He longed to run his hands along her smooth flesh, feel the heat from the welts of his whip. He adjusted himself in his slacks again, his cock fully erect and throbbing.
Soon.
She cleared her throat, and he shook his head sharply. She turned her head, peeking at him over her shoulder.
“Sit please, Ashley.”
She slid into the booth, setting her purse on the seat between them.
He was silent for a moment as his gaze passed over the generous curves of her breasts, barely contained in the tight dress. His eyes flicked up to hers. “The dress is beautiful, Ashley. Thank you.”
She flashed a quick uncertain smile. “I didn’t remember it being this, uh, low cut. I feel like a hooker.”
Parker chuckled. “You won’t hear me complain.”
Her pretty blush was back. He wanted to cup her cheek in his hand to feel the heat of it.
“Parker, I need to say something. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about things.”
“You followed my instructions.” He glanced down at his watch. “Most of them, anyway. That’s all that matters to me, Ashley.”
Her gaze flickered and she fingered the cloth napkin in front of her. He could see a telltale shaking of her delicate fingers.
“What are we doing here? Really?”
He sat back, laying an arm on the table. “What do you think, Ashley? You tell me why you think we’re here.”
She looked down a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. I shouldn’t have come.”
“But you did. That says it all, doesn’t it? It says to me that you want to hear more. Am I wrong?”
She shook her head, the slightest of movements.
“I think you know why, though. You’re just afraid to say it. Tell me.”
Ashley moved to stand up, grabbing at her purse.
“Wait.” He laid his big palm flat on the white tablecloth. “Sit. Don’t tell me you went to all this trouble just to flee back the way you came?”
She didn’t move, her eyes on the table between them.
“Give me your hand.”
Her eyes snapped up to his. “What?”
“Give me your hand, Ashley. Just that, for now.” He stared into her green eyes, willing her to defy him. Part of him wanted her to.
Her hand slid across the table to his. Then he clasped her warm, trembling fingers in his hand, and smiled.
***
Her heart galloped in her chest as she felt the grip of his strong fingers around hers. Firm, but comforting all at once. The way a man feels.
“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” He tipped his head to the side. “Now, we need to talk.”
“Okay. Just talk though. Please.”
He nodded, those cruel eyes not leaving hers. “I don’t want you to think about your other men. What’s happened in the past, Ashley. I only want you to think about us. About me. Can you do that?”
Ashley nodded, knowing it was a lie. She felt ashamed for it.
“Good. Now that we’re thinking about us, about me, I have a question for you.”
She didn’t like these questions. She wanted to just sit there and look at him, feel his thumb stroking over her knuckles. Just enjoy the possibilities.
“What time did I tell you to be here tonight?”
She gulped, her heartbeat shifting into a higher gear. She had purposely arrived late. She regretted it now.
“Nine o’clock.”
He nodded. His smile remained, but a glint had snuck into his gaze.
“Look, Parker. I couldn’t find the place right away.” She knew it sounded as lame as it was untrue.
He just looked at her, the muted sounds of the restaurant competing with the rushing noise in her ears.
Say something for Christ’s sake!
“You walked through that door at 9:15.” He opened his napkin and spread it upon his lap. “You didn’t follow my instructions.”
“Parker—”
“I want you to just listen, for now.”
Her mouth clamped shut. She hoped she didn’t look like a landed fish.
“One of the first things we have to be clear on is what you can expect from me. If you were mine, Ashley. What do you think would happen, if you showed up fifteen minutes late?”
“I don’t — I don’t know. You’d be angry?”
“No.” He leaned closer, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t be angry. I’d be disappointed.”
His gaze bored into hers, his smile gone, and she had the urge to sink down into her seat. “I’d be disappointed that you disobeyed me.”
Her mouth was as dry as a desert at high noon. “I’m sorry, Parker.”
Fucking doormat! No!
His smile returned, and he winked at her. “But you aren’t mine — yet. So you’re off the hook.”
She relaxed, flexing the fingers of the fist she’d clenched in her lap. Her other hand was still held in his, but somehow that fact didn’t bother her. His thumb whispered over the bumps of her knuckles, the movement so slight it almost tickled.
“What would happen?” She couldn’t believe the question fell from her lips, and she had to resist the urge to wince.
“Happen with what?” He picked up the menu, looking over the choices with those all-seeing eyes of his.
Stop Ashley, you dumbass. You don’t have to do this.
“What would happen if I were … yours.” She felt stupid saying it, but she did want to know. The self-destructive, curious, what-the-fuck part of her that loved to get her ass in a sling just had to know.
“Oh, that would depend,” he said, his eyes not leaving the menu. Perfectly at ease, as if they were discussing the weather.
“On what?” she breathed. She was sure he could hear the bass drum beat of her heart, it was so loud in her own ears.
“On what I felt like, I suppose.” He looked at her again, a half smile on his face. “You’d be getting at least a nice, hard spanking, that’s for sure.”
Ashley swallowed, her womb clenching at the words. So maybe she hadn’t changed that much since Terry. She was in trouble.
The waiter arrived and she sighed in relief. Parker ordered salmon, and the waiter turned to Ashley.
“I think—”
“Nothing for her, Javier. More wine though when you get a chance?”
The waiter nodded, gathering the menus and flicking a quick glance at Ashley. She didn’t like the mirth she saw in the man’s eyes.
“What am I going to eat, Parker? You invited me here remember?” Her stomach was growling, despite her nerves.
He looked over at her as if she were speaking gibberish. “You’ll eat what I give you, Ashley. Just to try it on for size.”
She glared at him a moment, then turned her gaze away. What the hell was he doing? It wasn’t 1950! What was next? Making her kneel at his feet while he fed her from his fingers?
The frisson of desire she felt at the thought disturbed her.
“I’m still curious, Ashley.”
She set her purse back on the seat; she’d been clutching it in a death grip. “About what?”
“Sir,” he said with a hard look, his long fingers steepled together in front of him.
“What?”
“The proper term of respect is ‘Sir’.”
Her cheeks heated. This was new territory. She and Terry had never gotten this far into it. “What … Sir?”
A gorgeous grin brightened his face. “Much better, Ashley. I like the sound of that.”
He sipped from his wine glass. “I’m curious why you were purposely late. Did you want to be punished?”
“No!” Her blush deepened, and she looked around, sheepish, hoping nobody else heard her.
“Relax, Ashley,” he said, laughing. “Not mine yet, remember?”
Clenching her hand into a fist in her lap again, she wondered why she wasn’t bothered by the fact that he still clasped her other hand. This wasn’t going as she’d thought it might. Hell, she had no idea how this was supposed to work. If this was — whatever this was — something that she’d even want.
She took a gulp of her water, trying to get some moisture back in her mouth — all the wetness in her body seemed to have migrated to her pussy.
“Well?”
“I don’t want you to think that I‘m just going to roll over and do whatever you say. I — I’m not that way. I’m not some doormat.”
“What makes you think doing what you’re told makes you a doormat?”
“I know,” she said, smiling ruefully. “It’s not what it’s supposed to be right? Just a role to play? I don’t think I can do that.”
“It wouldn’t be a role with me, Ashley.” He set his wine glass down, tightening his grip on her hand. “I don’t play games. Ever.”
With a gulp, she met his gaze. His steel eyes held not a hint of warmth in them. To a normal woman that would be unsettling, frightening even. It made her pussy drip.
You are one messed up chick, Ashley. You should not be doing this.
“Parker.”
He frowned for the first time. She didn’t like that frown one bit, though the exact reason why eluded her.
“Sir … what do you want? What am I supposed to do?”
She knew she needed to listen to that small quiet voice. The one telling her to retrieve her hand and walk out the door. To do anything else was insane. She knew this.
But she didn’t do it. This was that chance to see if she could still be who she’d dreamt of being. The person she wanted to be with Terry — at least at the beginning. Maybe Parker was the one? She thought about the phone conversation with Tara, her boyfriend Brian in the room with her. How Ashley’s heart had ached for the loss of someone to feel that closeness with. A soul to share her life with, a companion on her journey. For the first time in a very long time, she felt … lonely.
Be careful what you wish for, Miss Lonely Heart.
“Ashley, I want to see if you’ll be a good girl, and obey me. So far, you’ve mostly exceeded my expectations.”
Her eyes widened. “I have?”
Parker’s beautiful smile banished the memory of his dark frown. “You showed up didn’t you? And wearing that bewitching dress, no less. I can see why any man of yours might feel … threatened.”
“That’s the kind of possessive shit I’m trying to get away from. I hate jealousy.”
He frowned again, and lay her hand on the table, covering it in his. Possessive.
“First, watch your language. Second, a possession is just what you’d be, if you were mine. My most treasured one, but a possession nonetheless. I need you to be clear on this.”
She licked her lips, reaching for her water glass once more.
“Maybe this won’t work then.” She tried to pull her hand back. but he pressed down on it, stilling her.
“I think that bothers you a lot less than you’re letting on. Maybe you feel like you have to say that? Not be a ‘doormat’, as you say?”
“I’m serious. I can’t be someone’s possession.” She needed to calm her beating heart, slow her breathing. His words had agitated her, but that didn’t stop moisture from slickening her clenching pussy. She felt sure any minute she’d feel a trickle down her thigh.
“Can’t you?” He leaned closer. “Does the thought really sound so horrible? To be cherished, protected?”
“Controlled? A plaything?” She wasn’t letting him get
off easy on this one. She had to prove to him — and herself — that she wasn’t some spineless pushover. Beaten down, scared, like she’d been in the past. Worse.
“Yes, maybe you’d be a plaything, if you want to think of it that way.” His gaze flashed as he sat back again. “You would be mine after all.”
“I am nobody’s plaything, Parker.”
“Sir,” he growled. “And if you were mine, you would be.”
Ashley digested that for a minute, the stroking of Parker’s hand over her own a pleasant distraction from her dark thoughts.
She was supposed to be fleeing the possessiveness and insane jealousy she’d experienced with Terry. Fleeing what those feelings could bring out in a man. And here she was, sitting in a restaurant with Parker, discussing whether or not she would submit to him, whether she would consent to being owned by him.
More disturbing to her was the fact that she wasn’t as alarmed as she should be by such an idea. Her weeping pussy and stone-hard nipples didn’t seem alarmed at all, in fact. Was this something she’d really have the courage to do? More importantly, did she trust Parker? Could she trust any man after Terry? After the betrayal and humiliation at his hands?
The waiter returned with Parker’s meal. Despite her initial visions of being fed at Parker’s fingers as she knelt by his chair, he instead shared his meal with her, scooping some of his food onto her empty plate. She wondered if it was a more subtle way of exerting control. Parker being the one to decide how much she ate, without going too far with it. A way to help her inner feminist save face.
Screw that, Ash. None of your feminist friends would be okay with a one bit of tonight’s events.
She found that she really didn’t give a fuck.
They finished and the waiter took the dishes away, Parker offering Ashley the last sips of his wine. He beamed at her as she drank.
“I believe in the power of choices, Ashley. So I’m giving you another. It won’t always be this way though.”
Blinking, she wondered if it was the wine or her fluttering heart that was making her feel lightheaded. She was really doing this!
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