But I had a mission - get to Dylan. The only way to penetrate his secure compound in Hanoi was to make myself essential to Alexander, and the way I was going about it now was not working. Alexander was too cautious around me, too aware of my fear. Too reluctant to open himself up until he knew that I wanted him.
He could read me too well and so, I had to do something that no amount of preparation had readied me for. I would have to rely on my instincts and trust him. I would have to take it on faith that his former submissives were exactly where he said they were. In Belarus and in Milan.
It was terrifying because I wanted to believe him. I needed to cling to the illusion that the man I’d met in a bar two years ago hadn’t been entirely fake. That though the two men had different names, they were still the same person.
The kindness – was it real? His concern for me – was it all an act? I didn’t think so. He kept secrets and I did too. But at the end of the day, I couldn’t believe that Alexander would hurt me in the playroom.
Dylan had beaten me with a cane until I was bloody. I couldn’t imagine Alexander ever doing something so violent.
Dylan had slapped my face repeatedly and whipped me till my back was raw to mould me to his exacting specifications. Alexander had asked me to be honest about my desires in the playroom.
Again and again, Alexander had shown me he wasn’t Dylan, and I wanted this. Just as I’d wanted the one night in Paris two years ago, I wanted these three months with him. After the mission, I would have to walk away. When Dylan lay dead, Alexander would hate me, but until then? I wanted to let myself fall in love with him.
There would be time for regret later. There would be many days ahead in which I could debate whether my approach had been wise. But for the moment, I’d been three minutes late getting ready and I’d been promised a punishment.
My body tingled with anticipation. I wanted to reach out and embrace my lust and longing and arousal I wanted to surrender freely, with an absence of fear.
I was ready.
Chapter 4
Alexander:
When we got to the house, her gaze met mine squarely. “Sir,” she said, with sweetness and not a trace of fear. “I was late getting ready. Please punish me.”
I raised an eyebrow. This was a very different woman than the one I’d seen so far. This time, there was no terror. Her eyes sparkled with nervous anticipation. I didn’t know what had brought this change, but I wanted to find out. “Not afraid, cherie?”
“No, I’m not,” she replied.
As much as I wanted to rush her into the playroom and take advantage of her willingness, I owed it to both of us to try and understand what lay at the root of her fear, and what had changed since the last time we’d been in the playroom. “Why not? What’s different now?”
She exhaled. She appeared to be grappling with a decision, then she reached it. “I’ve been stuck between my head and my heart for the last few days,” she said softly. “My head tells me that a man with enough money to pay a million dollars for three months of my company is someone to be feared.”
“But?”
“But every instinct tells me I have nothing to be afraid of. Every instinct tells me to trust you.”
What she was describing was exactly the way I felt towards her. I should have been constantly fretting about who she worked for and why she’d wanted to be bid on by me. I should have never slept in the same bed as her until I fully understood her motives. She’d been in Paris two years ago; she’d been in Bangkok for Lori’s auction. There were no coincidences. I had many enemies – she could be working for one of them.
Yet when I was with her, all of that faded and what was left was trust. Plain and simple. Again and again, I was drawn to her.
“So what is it, cherie? Which one are you going to listen to tonight? Your head or your heart?”
We were sitting on a couch in my bedroom. In response to my question, she slid off the seat and knelt at my feet. “I’m ready for the playroom, Sir.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. Not since the first time I’d tied up Angela had I been this ready for a session. This eager. “Get up for a minute,” I urged her, pulling her up and into the seat. “Let’s talk about limits for a few minutes. Is there anything you want to do tonight? Anything you want to try, anything you want to avoid?”
She looked a little tentative. I guessed that checking in with her desires wasn’t something her former master had done too much of. “Can we avoid the canes?” she asked.
Emma had enjoyed pain and I’d bought the canes on her request. It wasn’t something I had ever needed. “Okay. What else? Do you like the flogger?”
Her lips parted at that image. The thought of being flogged aroused her. Lust was rolling off her in waves and I wanted to wade in and drown myself in her desire. “I like the flogger,” she confirmed, her cheeks flushed. “A lot.”