“Leave it open.”
His eyes flicked toward me.
I just grinned. “Don’t worry about it.”
Glancing out the window, he said, “Not concerned about your neighbor seeing this?”
“Nope.” In fact, I hope he does.
When he looked at me again, he cocked his head, and I wondered if he saw right through me.
With a nervous laugh, I said, “You don’t mind someone seeing us, do you?”
“Not at all.” He paused, wetting his lips. “I take it you don’t mind either?” I shook my head. He glanced out the window again, murmuring something that may have been “duly noted.”
“So,” I said, “what do you want me to do?”
“Nothing yet.” Scott sat back in the chair with one elbow on the armrest. “Stay right there for now.” For the first time, he sipped his wine, then set the glass on the sill. My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for him to speak. His long fingers fascinated me as he unbuttoned the cuff of one sleeve and rolled it to just below his elbow. Then he did the same to the other sleeve. And still, he didn’t speak.
He reached for his wine, raised it to his lips, and took another sip. When the glass clinked on the sill again, he looked at me, and something in his expression had changed. The temperature in the room dropped as our eyes met.
“From this point on,” he said, “until I say otherwise or a safe word is spoken, I am your Master and you are my submissive.” Every word had an edge, a terse sharpness, and this abrupt shift in his demeanor gave me goose bumps. “Every question is to be answered quickly and honestly. You will only speak when you are asked to do so, and whenever you do, you will refer to me as ‘Sir’. Am I understood?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
His eyebrow lifted.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He laced his fingers together on top of his knee. “Nothing happens without my express permission or my order. You won’t touch me, move, speak, anything, unless I allow or demand it. Clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He smiled. The half-nod that followed sent a warm rush of relief through me. Only seconds into this, and already his approval or lack thereof made me react physically.
“You won’t touch me,” he said. “But the same rule does not apply to me. As my submissive, you’ve given me permission to touch you any way I see fit. Have you consented to this?”
“Yes, Sir.” Already, those two words slipped so easily off my tongue.
Movement caught my attention and my eyes darted toward the window. Before I could see if Matt was there, Scott snapped his fingers. I jumped, and when our eyes met, his narrowed.
“Look at me, not out there,” he growled. “Or I’ll close the shade.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“What are your safe words?”
“Red and yellow, Sir.”
“And what do they each mean?”
“Red if I want to stop completely, yellow if I want to back off.” Another upward flick of his eyebrow prompted me to add, “Sir.”
“Good.” He gave a slow nod. “Unbutton your shirt.”
My heart raced. Excitement? Nerves? Both?
“Was I unclear?” he asked.
“No, Sir.”
“Then…?”
My face burned and my hands shook, but I did as he ordered. With every button, arousal and uncertainty fought for dominance. When the first button opened, my nerves tingled with anticipation. The second exposed the first hint of cleavage, and I wondered if I really was comfortable disrobing in front of Scott. The third let cool air touch between my breasts, and my nipples hardened beneath my bra. Oh yes, I wanted this.
When my shirt was completely unbuttoned, I started to shrug it off.
“Wait.”
I froze and looked at him.
“Did I tell you to take it off?”
“No, Sir.” I tugged it back into place.
“What is the rule about moving or doing anything?”
“Not without your command or permission, Sir.”
“Good. Now take it off.”
Once my shirt was off, I nearly set it on the bed to get it out of the way, but waited, remembering his orders.
“Put it on the bed.”
I did as I was told, swallowing hard as the sense of exposure sank in. Matt had certainly seen this much and more but Scott hadn’t. Assuming Matt was watching, I wondered what he thought about this, about me slowly undressing in front of someone sitting casually by the window.
The distance between Scott and me didn’t help my nerves. Had he been close to me, running his hands all over my bare skin, his eyes closed as he occupied himself with a long kiss, it would be different. But he was several feet away, fully dressed and looking at me. Under only his watchful eye and not his touch, I’d never been so exposed.
“Are you doing okay?” With the gentleness in his voice, the veil lifted and for a moment, he was just Scott.
“I’m okay, yes.”
He cleared his throat. Sir was back.
“I’m fine, Sir,” I said quickly.
“Good.” He rose in one smooth, controlled motion, and started toward me. My heart beat faster as he approached. I willed myself to keep breathing while I waited for him to decide what happened next.
Without speaking, he walked around me, stopping just beyond the reach of my peripheral vision. I silently begged him to touch me. A fingertip on my skin, a hand on my waist, something, but he denied me.
“Take off your bra.”
My shaking hands immediately obeyed in spite of the thoughts running through my mind. My heart pounded and my stomach fluttered with nerves. This vulnerability scared and thrilled me as much as his voice compelled me, and after a few seconds of struggling, my bra went slack.
“Turn around.”
I did, keeping my eyes down as I faced him. My bra slid down my arms and I caught it with a crooked finger, but I didn’t know if I should drop it or hold it. All I could do was await his command.
“Give it to me.”
I extended my hand, all the while wondering where he was looking. At my breasts? At my downturned eyes? At the black satin and lace hanging off my outstretched fingers? When he reached for my bra, I held my breath, hoping he’d grant me just the slightest brush of skin on skin when he took it from my hand.
And once again, he denied me, taking the strap between two fingers and freeing it from my hand without touching me.
“You’re doing well.” His whispered approval sent another rush of relief through me.
“Thank you, Sir.”
He stepped a little closer. “Unbutton my shirt.”
My eyes darted up to meet his. His expression invited neither debate nor resistance, only unquestioning obedience. Dropping my gaze, I reached for his shirt.
I watched my fingers fumble with the buttons. I’d never been so acutely aware of someone’s body heat, my fingers and knuckles registering every fluctuation in temperature as they moved toward and away from him.
After I’d unfastened the button just above his belt, I paused.
“Keep going,” he ordered.
“But it’s—” I hesitated. “May I untuck your shirt, Sir?”
“Yes.”
I gulped. As I tugged his shirt free, I couldn’t decide where to look. Intimidation kept me from meeting his eyes. The mouthwatering grooves beneath his tight undershirt kept me from looking straight ahead. The third option meant being unable to ignore the obvious ridge just below his belt. For the same three reasons, closing my eyes was out of the question.
Somehow, I managed to get his shirt untucked and completely unbuttoned. I let my hands fall to my sides, and waited for his next command.
“Take it off.”
I barely kept myself from shivering again. The more he talked this way, the more I had visions of him throwing me down on the bed and fucking me. Pulling my hair, growling filth into my ear, giving—
“Kristen.” The sharpness with which he said my name did nothing to lessen my arousal, but it did get my attention.
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”
“My shirt. Take it off. Now.”
I lifted my hands to do as he’d asked, but hesitated again.
“Is there a problem?”
Unable to meet his eyes, I whispered, “No, Sir.” I reached for his shirt.
“Wait.”
My hands stopped in midair.
He gestured over his shoulder. “Go around behind me. Then take it off.”
As ordered, I stepped behind him. Reaching around him, I hooked my fingers under the lapels and drew them back, sliding it over his shoulders and down his arms. The sleeves caught on his forearms, where he’d rolled them earlier, but with a gentle nudge, came loose.
“Put it on the bed.”
“Yes, Sir.” I did as ordered, laying his shirt neatly beside my haphazardly piled clothes.
Still with his back to me, he said, “Now the other shirt.”
My breath caught. There was no way to get that snug T-shirt off without touching his skin. He had to know that, so I whispered my already habitual affirmative and reached for his T-shirt.
I freed it from his belt. He didn’t react when my fingertips grazed his hot skin, but my pulse certainly reacted, rising higher and higher as I pushed up his shirt. His body heat beneath my palms made my head spin. He raised his arms, then took over and pulled his shirt all the way off.
Oh God. Oh my God. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen Scott without his shirt. I’d never seen just how sculpted and powerful his shoulders were. I’d certainly never seen the four black Chinese characters, each about the size of my palm, tattooed along the length of his spine, nor their slightly smaller counterparts running down his sides. They must have hurt like hell, more so than my nails biting into my hands as I tried to keep myself from touching him.
There were lines on his back, faint red streaks in groups of four. On either side of his back, one set of those red streaks stood out from the rest, the lines darker and more pronounced. They looked raised enough that I’d have been able to feel them if I ran my fingers over them. I wondered which of his subs had left them, if it had been her orgasm that had driven her nails into his back, or if she’d done it to drive him over the edge.
On his left shoulder, several fine scars, each a few inches in length and running parallel to each other, caught the light. I couldn’t quite place—
“Kristen.”
The sound of my name startled me.
“What? I mean, I’m sorry, Sir.”
He made a sharp gesture, indicating I was to come around and face him. I did, holding my breath and keeping my eyes down.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said again.
“It’s okay, you’re still learning.” His voice was gentle now, enough to coax the held breath out of my lungs. At least until he added a terse, “Don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t, Sir.”
“Good.” He put his hand on my waist. I pulled in a breath. Just a simple, still touch, and he couldn’t have sent more lightning surging through my veins if he’d run his tongue around my clit.
He drew me to him. “Are you still comfortable with all of this?”
“Yes, Sir.” Those words still came so easily, rolling off my tongue at his command even when coherent speech otherwise eluded me. He was so close now. God, he was close. Heat radiated from his body, taunting me with his delicious, agonizing nearness.
His free hand touched the side of my neck, then drifted up into my hair. “I’m not moving too fast?”
“No, Sir.” I want you to move faster. I want more. God, I want you.
The hand on my waist pulled me closer, and that thick, hard ridge that had distracted me earlier now pressed against me. My erect nipples brushed his chest, and I had to bite my lip to keep from whimpering. It took every bit of restraint I had not to put my arms around him, to wait until he specifically allowed me to touch him. Please order me to touch you, Sir. Please, God, please.
Second after second ticked by, and still the order didn’t come.
“Am I frustrating you?” His breath warmed my lips.
It was a loaded question. It had to be.
“Answer me truthfully, Kristen.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “Am I frustrating you?”
“Yes, Sir. You are.”
“Good.” And with that, he pulled away, reaching for his shirt. He gestured at my clothes. “You can put that back on.”
“What? But—”
A pointed look stopped me.
I swallowed. “Yes, Sir.” He pulled on his T-shirt as I reached for my bra. When he picked up his shirt and put it on, I wanted desperately to rip it right off. With every button he fastened, my frustration ratcheted up. I pulled my own shirt around my shoulders. The fabric had cooled in the minutes since I’d taken it off, but it was the absence of Scott’s body against mine that made my knees shake. I’d wanted him for a long time, but never this badly. I’d never been so close, close enough I could almost taste the wine on his lips
“This is so we both know who is in control,” he said as he buttoned the last button of his shirt. “But it’s also for me to earn your trust. You can strip half-naked in front of me, at my command, and I’m not going to abuse my power and take advantage of you.”
“Not even if I want you to take advantage of me?”
Momentary panic swept through me as I expected a stern look or sharp admonishment, but he laughed.
“No, not even if you want me to.” He cupped my face in both hands. “Trust me on this. There’s a method to my madness. This is as far as we’re going tonight, but as long as you trust me and submit to me, it’s nowhere near as far as we will be going.” He planted a tender kiss on my forehead, that soft contact of his lips making my knees weaker. “We’re done for tonight,” he whispered. “I’m not your Master anymore until the next time.”
With those words, my shoulders dropped and I released my breath. “You’re a merciless tease, you know that?”
He chuckled. “You’ll be calling me worse things in the near future, I think.”
“I can’t wait.” I shot him a playful glare. “So, when’s my next lesson?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“The sooner the better. Busy tomorrow night?”
“Not if it means spending the evening doing this.” He ran the tip of his thumb along the underside of his jaw. “What do you have in the way of a robe?”
“Like a bathrobe?”
“That, or if you have something skimpier.”
I went to my closet and flicked through the hangers before I found the blue satin robe I’d bought ages ago and never worn. I pulled it out and held it up for Scott to see. He picked up one end of the belt and ran his fingers along its surface, brow furrowed as he inspected it.
Letting go of the belt, he nodded once. “Perfect. Wear that tomorrow tonight.”
“Anything under it?”
He shrugged. “Bra and panties, nothing too extravagant.”
“I’m sure I can find something suitable.”
“Good,” he said. “So, same time tomorrow night?”
“I’ll be here.”
“So will I.”
I showed Scott out and, after he was gone, returned to my bedroom. There, I closed the door and leaned against it. Though he’d teased and frustrated me, there was no denying he’d turned me on. I couldn’t get the sound of his voice out of my mind. The sharp commands, the gentle praises, the soft whisper just before he’d almost kissed me. I’d physically ached for his touch, and with the denial of a kiss, he’d driven me out of my mind.
The last year or two of my life had been an exercise in sexual frustration, but none of that held a candle to this. I had to have more of him. Whatever he commanded, whatever he wanted, I’d give it to him, because I needed to know what his kiss tasted like.
I
moved to my bed, and as I unbuttoned my shirt for the second time tonight, I hoped Matt had been watching since Scott arrived.
I hoped he was still watching.
Chapter 4
I didn’t have to ask if Matt had seen everything last night.
Every Sunday morning, almost without fail, we jogged together. We always met on the sidewalk between our buildings, and it never took us long to fall into our usual easy banter. Like Scott, Matt was easy to talk to, more so than most of my female friends.
Lately, though, he sometimes had a hard time looking me in the eye or didn’t seem to know quite what to say. There was a lot of throat-clearing and gaze-dropping before his shyness evaporated. It didn’t take a genius to connect those mornings to the nights before.
So after a night like last night, it was no surprise when I came downstairs and he offered only a glance before returning his attention to using the vacant bike rack to stretch his quads.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning,” he murmured, glancing up again just long enough to make eye contact. He focused on stretching, and neither of us spoke as I joined him. For a few minutes, I replayed everything I’d done within sight of his window last night. I could only imagine what it had looked like to him, especially when Scott and I had redressed and left without exchanging so much as a kiss, and a few minutes later, I’d returned to my bedroom alone. Alone and obviously needing to relieve some tension.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning. Scott had frustrated the hell out of me, but I knew there was plenty to come. Last night was a sample, a hint and nothing more, and I was already coming unglued at the prospect of whatever he had up his sleeve for tonight.
Especially if Matt would be watching again. I cast a surreptitious glance at him, but he kept his attention on his stretches instead of looking right at me.
It was kind of cute, actually, the way he focused so hard on his stretches whenever he’d watched me the night before. I wasn’t sure why he was so coy about it. The open window shade must have told him I not only knew he watched, but had given him my tacit blessing to continue. He knew I knew. He had to, even if we didn’t talk about it.
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