Finding Master Right

by Sparrow Beckett

  Panicked, she shot out of bed, wet and sweaty. “Um. I’ll be right there!”

  In the bathroom, she scrubbed her hands, then ran back to her bedroom to throw on the first pair of pants she saw. She pulled her hair back in a messy bun before she flew to the door.

  After a deep breath, she opened it and plastered on a fake smile. “Hi!”

  Oh crap. He was wearing work clothes. A white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showed off his tattooed arms. God! Was he trying to make her come in her panties?

  His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. Her face felt flushed but that shouldn’t have given anything away. She could’ve been working out, for all he knew. She peered down at her clothing for the first time since napping an hour ago. Jeans and a black tank top. Her nipples poked out like beacons of her guilt.

  Shit! She’d forgotten a bra.

  “Um.” She covered her breasts with her arms, blushing even more. “Come on in. I’m just gonna grab a sweatshirt.”

  “Okay,” he said suspiciously, then stepped into the living room of her rented condo.

  She spun and made a hasty retreat into her attached bedroom. “Just make yourself comfortable,” she yelled over her shoulder.

  In her bedroom, she grabbed her bra from the dresser and put it on, and then threw on a black camisole from her closet as she walked back to the living room. She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she walked by. Bright red face, a sheen of sweat, and rumpled clothing. She looked as though she’d just been doing exactly what she had been—masturbating while fantasizing about him.

  “Everything okay?” he asked from the couch. “You seem a bit . . . frazzled.”

  “It’s fine.” Crap. She couldn’t even look at him without picturing herself over his lap. This would never work. He was supposed to be helping her find out what she wanted, not stuffing a butt plug in her while she orgasmed. “It was a long day,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  He nodded slowly, brow creased. “I’m sorry.” Patting the couch, he beckoned her. “I’ve been told I give a pretty decent neck massage.”

  Nooo. Touching was bad. Very bad. How could she tell him she’d left herself needy right before he came in, and that now she was one small thrust from orgasming? “I’ll be fine. Drink?”

  “Water, please.”

  Nodding, she rushed to the kitchen. Two cold waters. Would he think it was strange if she dumped hers on her head? She gulped down half a glass over the sink and took a few calming breaths before returning with his.

  He took the glass with a smile. “Sit down. You look exhausted.”

  “I’m fine.” Even so, she sat in the recliner across from him.

  With an eye roll, he leaned back. “How are you supposed to go over a checklist from there? Come on. I don’t bite.” With a smirk, he added, “Without consent.”

  Reluctantly, she acquiesced. Would he be able to smell how horny she was?

  Seeming pleased, he brandished a piece of paper. “I’ll skip over the extreme ones so I don’t shock you too much.”

  She scowled. He didn’t need to protect her virtue. “You don’t have to baby me. I’m not completely clueless, you know.”

  He arched a brow. “So your text about figging was a joke?”

  “Shut up.”

  He sipped at his water, his expression unreadable. “Be glad you’re not mine.”

  “Why?” she challenged. “Slaves don’t talk like that?”

  “Depends on the Master. But mine wouldn’t.”

  For some reason, her curiosity piqued. “You’re a strict Master?” Shit—had that sounded too interested?

  Shut up. Just stop talking now. She didn’t need any more wank fodder. And anyway, she knew most Dominants didn’t tolerate mouthiness—she’d seen it enough in Chris.

  He shrugged. “Some things are negotiable, but I doubt I’d be okay with my slave telling me to shut up.”

  “Even if it was just teasing?”

  “It’s about respect. I don’t think there’s any way to make shut up respectful.”

  She gave him a sidelong look. “Sure there is.”

  He leaned toward her, seeming intrigued by her challenge. “Oh really?”

  “Shut up, Sir.” She raised her chin, more than half wishing he’d paddle her ass. “See?”

  “Brat,” he mumbled, but there was laughter in his eyes. “If anyone needed a spanking, it’d be you.”

  Instinctively, she scooted a few inches away.

  His lips curved in amusement. “Scared?”

  “No.” Liar. “You wouldn’t do it without permission.” It was almost a question. Did she want him to? Fuck. Yes. No. Of course not!

  “No. Lucky for you, I wouldn’t.”

  This was coming awfully close to her fantasy. A picture flashed in her mind—Banner rolling his sleeves up as she leaned over his knee, her knowing what was coming but wanting it anyway.

  She gave her head a shake and cleared her throat. “Um. The list?”

  He stared at her a moment longer, looking as lustful as she felt. Did he sense a connection too? Or maybe it was all in her mind. A result of the dream, or her lack of vibe action, or the earlier migraine. Any of those excuses would do.

  “Right.” He held the paper toward her so they could both read it. “This is a good start anyway.”

  She scanned the list. Words she knew popped out right away. Anal. Spanking. Leashes. Those, she understood, had given thought to. Others, like enemas, humiliation, and rape fantasies, she hadn’t. Cringing, she turned away.

  “What’s that look for?” he asked.

  “Some of these are . . .” She paused. She didn’t want to offend him—the whole “your kink isn’t my kink, but your kink is okay” thing Janine talked about. “Not my thing.”

  “We all have those. Which ones make you feel something? Something pleasant.”

  Something pleasant? Right now, she just felt horny. Sorting out the cause and effect overwhelmed her lust-addled brain. She’d thought a checklist would make things easier, but in this condition, she could check off any number of things, and then kick herself for it tomorrow.

  “Ugh. I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.” He took the paper away and turned toward her. “Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You’re not listening to your body. You’re in your head too much.”

  No, that was the exact opposite of the problem.

  “Close them,” he commanded.

  She did.

  “Take a deep breath.”

  She inhaled then exhaled slowly, feeling some tension drain away.

  “Don’t think,” he said. “Feel.”

  “Okay.” Sounded easy enough.

  He shifted on the couch, and his leg pressed against hers. His scent intensified, making her want to breathe him in and hold him there inside her, calming her, enticing her. The warmth from his body crept through her clothing, giving her that melty feeling inside.

  Hot breath against her ear pulled her focus to him, only to him.

  “Do you want to be spanked, Kate?” His voice whispered near her neck.

  She fought to stay put when her instinct was to flee. He was too close, too . . . there. But she refused to run away from her desires anymore. She would face this head on. She’d stay in the saddle.

  “I . . . I think so.”

  “Good.”

  The small praise made her smile, but she wiped it away, feeling silly. Why should she care if he thought she was good? She wasn’t his good girl. He didn’t want her.

  Fingers touched the back of her neck, grabbing hold of her attention again. They dragged lightly across her skin, making goose bumps rise all over her body.

  Jesus. Maybe he did want her.

  “Do you want someone to pull your hair? To control you with their hand wrapped around your pretty ponytail?”

  “Yes,” she said on an exhale.

  “Very good.”

  God, was
there a kink for having a hot guy whisper dirty things in your ear? Because he could seriously check that one off.

  Her heart fluttered. His fingers drifted up the back of her scalp, tugging gently at her hair. The small pains sent heat pulsing down her body, pooling in her pussy, where she was still feeling heavy and aching for relief. She sucked in a strained breath through her teeth. Her stomach felt like it had dropped out of her body.

  “Would you like someone to take charge of your pleasure? Tell you when to come and when not to?”

  She tried to think, but her head felt fuzzy, his voice too distracting. Her gut said yes, her clit throbbed, seconding that. Her voice shaky, she rasped, “Yes.”

  “Do you want someone to master you? To own you?”

  Her body shuddered uncontrollably.

  He tightened his grip on her neck, almost as though he was expecting her to pull away. She didn’t.

  “Do you want someone to put their collar around your neck so the world knows you belong to them?”

  Her body was ready to agree to anything, but her brain made her eyes pop open. “No.”

  Banner tentatively pressed his lips to hers. Surprised, she yelped against his mouth. It quickly turned into a moan, and her eyes drifted shut. He tasted as clean as he smelled. His mouth was soft at first, guiding her, teasing her. Then he took over, dominating her, forcing her to open for him. As overbearing as the rest of him, his tongue pushed into her mouth, making her take it, daring her to fight back. She did. He pushed her, and she responded by nipping at his lips and sucking on his tongue.

  This time he moaned, and she felt some satisfaction in that. Her lips curved into a proud smile.

  Wait. What the hell was she doing? He wanted a slave. Not her. He’d never want her.

  She pulled away, reluctant because it felt so good, but she knew it would end in heartbreak if she didn’t. She eased the small hurt of rejection by remembering she didn’t want him either. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

  His lips, reddened from her mouth, were right there, still close enough to touch. She looked into his eyes, and he stared back with a hunterlike glare.

  “Why did you do that?” she whispered.

  “Because I wanted to. I probably should have asked first.”

  They stared a moment longer, neither wanting to make the first move away from the other. His gaze dropped to her chest. She knew her nipples were hard. She could feel them poking through her shirt, sensitive and aching.

  His brow arched. “You’re still turned on.”

  “So are you,” she shot back.

  He exhaled a pained sound. “Fuck, you make me crazy.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You’re always challenging me,” he almost growled.

  His Dom side was freakin’ hot. Part of her wanted to tease him, and then run, just to see if he’d chase her. She wanted to test the predator she saw lurking below. The other part of her—the one not controlled by her girly bits—remembered one important thing.

  “I’m not yours,” she pointed out. And for a moment, she almost wished she was.

  Just like that, the magic was gone. He blinked, then sat back, his face full of regret. “I know. We’re supposed to be finding you someone else.”

  “Yeah.” She cleared her throat before picking up the forgotten piece of paper from the floor. Fingers shaking, she ignored his apologetic look and focused on the checklist instead. One thing was clear, she couldn’t let herself get swept away again. Guys like him didn’t hurt for dates. There were submissives all over the world ready to throw themselves at a Dom’s feet, especially one who looked like him.

  In situations like this, the too-tall, stubborn screwup would be the one left reeling. She had to remind herself of that. “So, what now?”

  With his back straight, face stern, Banner flipped to business mode in a matter of seconds. “I think you have potential to be submissive, and I think you want it, but you’re your own worst enemy when it comes to actually doing it.” He slung his arm across the back of the couch. “Here’s the thing when it comes to getting a Dom: if you come across as too challenging, most will think you’re only playing at it. There are a lot of women calling themselves subs who just want someone to dote on them. Or they want to get tied up once in a while. And that’s fine, if you just want some bedroom kink, but to win over a serious Dom, someone that will push you and tap into your fantasies, you need to show some of your submissiveness.”

  She despised the idea of giving someone that right without them having earned it. Before she could protest, he put a hand up to stop her.

  “Now, I don’t mean you need to fall at his feet and kiss his boots. But bratting and being rebellious won’t give people the idea that you’re serious.”

  “I’m not bratty!” She almost pouted.

  He laughed. “No. For the right person, you’d be nothing short of a very good girl.”

  Was that better or worse? She scrunched her nose, trying to ignore the way his saying good girl went straight inside her.

  “With Trev, you put out some strong fuck-you vibes.” Again, he stopped her when she went to protest. “Granted, he wasn’t the right guy for you, but you’ll push almost everyone away doing that. Why are you guarding yourself? What are you afraid of?”

  “Nothing.” She shrugged, looking down at her fingers. “I just don’t know how to be any different.”

  “You do for me.” She could hear satisfaction in his voice.

  Although her first instinct was to deny it, there was no point. The question was: how did he manage it? The urge to submit to him kept catching her off guard.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, you seem to flip that switch somehow. You sure you want a slave?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. Way to sound desperate. She didn’t even know if he felt anything more toward her than an obligation to save her from her stupidity.

  “I’ve had submissives of all kinds over the years. Unfortunately, my needs are pretty specific. It’s just who I am.” He almost seemed sad about it. Banner—a god among men—sad about the way he was born? It was laughable. Then again, naturally good-looking people often didn’t know how lucky they were.

  “But, why a slave? Do you just want someone servicing you all the time? Like a free maid that you screw every night?”

  His eyes narrowed, and she wanted to kick herself. She’d gone too far. Instinctively, her gaze dropped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yes, you did.” He didn’t sound angry, but she didn’t know him well enough to be sure.

  Hesitantly, she lifted her eyes.

  His silence dared her to say more. “I’m just confused,” she hedged. “Slavery is such a yucky word. I don’t understand the dynamic. Why would anyone relatively sane want that?”

  His chuckle was humorless. “Thanks.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  With a sigh, he hung his head back for a moment before answering. She knew that look. She’d been on the receiving end of it before. Why, oh why, Kate, must you ask so many questions? Her aunt used to give her that same look.

  “As a Dom, there’s nothing more satisfying than having a woman’s absolute trust and adoration. There’s a high that comes with being given that power. As a Master, it’s different. A Dom owns a sub for the time they’re together, or during a scene, or in the bedroom. For a Master,” he paused, as if considering his words carefully. “The girl is mine. Period. No time limit. No off switch. And when a woman agrees to be mine, she’s placing her heart in my hands and trusting that I’ll keep it safe. In return, I provide for her, I protect her, I control her pleasure, but I also give her pain and demand she take it for me.” His eyes darkened, she could almost see the sadism rising in them. “I take a lot, but I give more. There is no stronger bond. Not marriage, not fancy words or vows, not rings or matching tattoos . . . Nothing.”

  Words swirled in her mind, causing a torrent of emotions. Being c
ontrolled and forced to take pain prickled at her inner feminist. Protection, trust, and admiration sounded perfect, but owning and mastering weren’t for her. Not only because trusting someone that implicitly seemed dangerous and unhealthy, but also that she just wasn’t into servitude. Fetching slippers, eating off the floor, following orders twenty-four-seven . . . She’d rather die an old spinster with an oversized collection of cat figurines than live at someone’s beck and call.

  She sighed. “This is frustrating. Maybe I’m in over my head.”

  “No. I think you just need someone to train you.”

  She grimaced.

  Chuckling, he added, “Someone very patient.”

  “What about you?”

  His brows shot up. “Me? I told you, I’m looking for a slave.”

  “But yesterday you said you’d give me tips. Maybe we take this a step further and you,” the word was difficult to get out, “train me. Teach me what Doms want so I don’t keep ruining my chances.” Though, sucking knowledge from him wasn’t fair without offering something in return. “I could pay you,” she added, shrugging. “Or something.”

  He scowled at her. “I’m not something that can be bought.”

  “Oh.” Right. Idiot. She hated when men treated her like a cheap object, and she’d just done that to him.

  “No. I mean I wouldn’t take your money. The idea isn’t bad though. I can teach you to submit while introducing you to some of my friends and making sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.”

  Her gaze shot to his. “Really? You’d do that?”

  “Yes, but you have to listen to me. When we’re together, you’re mine. You try your best, and you learn. You sure you want to do this?”

  Was she? He’d take this seriously, she knew that already. Training. Like a dog. It left a nasty taste in her mouth. How could such a cool guy like Banner want that in a woman? But if she had to put up with a bit, in order to experiment with a skilled Dom, then she’d do it.

  “Yes, but I have limits.”

  “Of course. I do too. That’s what the list is for.”

  “You have limits?”

  “What? Because I’m a Dom I’m not allowed to have things I don’t want to do?” He tilted his head. “I’m a person first, Kate.”