“You’re too used to interviewing your subbies, aren’t you? But I’ll tell you a bit about it, if only because I don’t believe there can be a power exchange without the ‘exchange’ part.” He leaned back in his chair, playing with a paper napkin on the small table, rolling it between his fingers. “I suppose I’ve let people down in the past. Too many people. And they’ve paid a price for it. So have I. This is my redemption, of sorts. But what is kink if it doesn’t redeem us? Aren’t we all looking for the structure and the pain and the release to cleanse our souls in some way?”
“Wow.”
“What?”
“I guess—and don’t take this the wrong way—I just didn’t expect anything so profound to come out of your mouth.”
“I’m a big lug. I know it. And believe me, it was more than I expected to say, as well. But I do have a deep thought now and then, in between visions of Harleys, sandwiches and sex, not necessarily in that order.”
She smiled, and he was reminded why her gorgeous mouth made him hard. “Yes, you do.”
“Does knowing I have my vulnerabilities make you more comfortable with me?” he asked. “With the idea of us playing together?”
She stared at her glass for a few moments, stroking her fingers over the side, wiping drops of condensation away with her thumb. And even though negotiations were serious business, he couldn’t help but imagine it was his cock she was stroking.
Focus, damn it!
“We all have our vulnerabilities,” she said with a small shrug. “I’ve found that’s a big part of what makes up the kink dynamic. But maybe it does make me a little more comfortable.” When she glanced back up at him, her gaze had gone a bit hard. “Maybe I feel like I have some sort of control still, if you have a chink in your armor. It evens the playing field a little.”
Ah, he could see the admission of her own vulnerability was making her feel just that. Well, it did him, too. But this conversation was necessary—more with her than with anyone else he’d played with before. He didn’t want to look at it, though. No, better that he keep forging ahead. There would be time for a dark night of self-reflection if he really must go that route. Not his usual style, but things with Layla were different already. He had a feeling there was more of that ahead. Which made this woman feel dangerous to him—not something he was used to; that was certain. Apparently it was something he liked.
“I can assure you I have many chinks, as we all do, just as you said. Why do you feel the need to retain control as a bottom?”
“For the same reasons the whole concept of bottoming freaks me out.”
“Fair enough, my mysterious, clever beauty. For now.” Reaching across the table, he stroked her cheek, was pleased to see her lashes flutter, to see her full lips part in surprise. To feel the slight leaning of her face against his hand. “I’ll let the rest go for the moment. But I know you understand that bottoming is, in some sense, at least, about being broken down. It will be my job to do just that. My job and my great pleasure. I want to see what makes you tick, princess. I want to discover what turns you on, what frightens you, and what’s behind it all. Oh, I know you don’t want to tell me. But you will. In your own words, in your body’s response. You won’t be able to help it.”
She looked up at him, a small fire back in her eyes. “Is that a challenge?”
“It’s a promise. Do you know what else I can promise?”
“What?”
“That you’ll like it. No. That you’ll love it.”
She simply stared at him, her pupils going wide. Then she shook her head, her shoulders dropping. “Fuck,” she muttered.
“What is it?”
“I just have to stop fighting it. I know that. But it’s going to be a hell of a struggle for me. I don’t fucking like this part.”
“I understand that. I’ll also enjoy every second of it.”
Layla rolled her eyes. “Of course you will.”
He chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. He was too delighted with her. Layla Chouset was going to be a goddamn wildcat, and he fully expected to get scratched. But he’d like it. No. He’d love it.
He grinned at her, then sent her a saucy wink, making her roll her eyes again. Oh, yes, he had this woman exactly where he wanted her. And it was going to be so damn good he could hardly stand to wait.
CHAPTER
Four
“SO, WHEN ARE you going to take me for a ride in your Mustang?”
Layla smiled at the sudden change in subject. This man liked to do everything he could to keep her off-balance, and for once she wasn’t entirely certain she was up to the challenge he presented—to the many challenges he presented. But this fact in itself was intriguing. Provocative, in every sense of the word. That and his lethal dimples combined with his bad bad-boy giantness and the dominance that seeped from every pore were more than she could resist. She’d given herself over to that fact when they’d talked the other night and she’d agreed to meet him here. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still going down without a fight. As much as she could manage to muster in the face of this man. This man.
She sighed.
Just handle it. Be your badass self.
“Are you done with your tea, Duff? Because we can go for a drive right now.”
Yes. Get behind the wheel. Grab for some last scrap of control.
Jesus, she’d really lost it.
Duff took one final swallow, then got to his feet, offering her his big hand. “Let’s go.”
She had to admit she loved the way he kept his hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the crush of tables and out the door, then down the sidewalk until they reached her red convertible Mustang, where it was parked beneath a streetlamp.
Duff let out a low whistle. “She really is a beauty.” Glancing up, he said, “Just like her owner.”
To fight off the blush heating her cheeks, she said, “You don’t have to try to seduce me, Duff. I’ve already agreed to play with you.”
“Oh, there will still be seduction, princess. But I don’t pay empty compliments. No need to. And this ride is fucking something.” He walked around the back of the car. “Dual tailpipes. Nicely chromed. Good chrome rims, too. Quality stuff.” Moving around to the driver’s side, he took her keys from her hand and opened the door, holding it for her. “Shall we?”