“What do you mean?”
There was a long pause while he took a bite of his pasta, chewed and swallowed, then took another bite before setting his fork down and wiping his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Well. There was my ex, you know? I always felt she was too needy with me, wrapping her entire life up in mine, giving up her own interests and even her friends. And she really did do that—it wasn’t only my perception of the situation. But after things broke off, I saw that I’d been doing the same with her—putting too many expectations on her. It wasn’t fair of me. Particularly expecting her not to do what I was doing myself, yeah?”
“My exes always made me wonder if I was doing that, but to be perfectly honest—and this is what I found after doing a lot of soul-searching—I was doing it, to some degree, because that’s what they wanted of me. Which is why I refuse to date any more musicians. They’re such narcissists, most of them. They want a woman whose entire life is them. They want us to sit around waiting for them to want us, or to need a meal, or sex, or to be soothed after a stressful day. There was nothing left over for me. And in the end even the sex was bad—awful, really, because that was all about them, too. And my stupid submissive side wanted so much to please them, wanted to make them happy, and I gave up too damn much of myself, until I had nothing left to give. Less and less in each relationship, which in the end wasn’t fair even to them, narcissists or not.”
She stopped herself, her chest so tight she could barely breathe, and realized how much she’d said. “God, I’m sorry, Duff. You must think I’m out of my head.”
He shook his head, his eyes narrowing, focusing hard on her face. Stroking her hair from her cheek, he said quietly, “No. Not at all. What I think is that you’ve just gotten real with me—vulnerable—in a way you haven’t before. No, don’t look like that. It’s a good thing. I understand more about you now. I needed to. For the sake of a clean connection within the power dynamic, but also just because . . . just because I needed to, lovely girl.”
He leaned in, an inch at a time, a storm brewing in his hazel eyes. She felt that same storm. It was made up of need that was as much mental and emotional as it was physical. And she felt something going loose inside her. Breaking apart, some sort of emotional detritus falling away. It was freeing and terrifying at the same time.
“Duff,” she started, not even knowing what she needed to say.
“Yeah,” he murmured, moving closer. “I’ve got you, lovely.”
Then he kissed her, and her mind went quiet as she lost herself in his soft lips, his sweet, silky tongue, his hands on her face. He kept kissing her, and her mind emptied out as he used his touch and his big body to take her over, bit by bit. It was the way his hand pressed against the side of her face, then her shoulder, his fingers stroking her skin, moving up and pressing the tiniest bit into her collarbone. The way his lips became more and more demanding, controlling the kiss, forcing her to follow his lead. The way his energy shifted, leaving her no doubt that somehow it was time to transition into the roles the kink between them required. Dominant and submissive. And there was no question about who was dominant here—nor would there ever be with him. The idea came as a relief.
She had no idea how long they’d been there, with him kissing her and quietly manhandling her, but when he pulled back her head was buzzing, and she knew she was already going down into the ethereal plane of subspace.
“Dinner is over, princess. It’s time to sate my other hunger.” He stood and held a hand out to her, and she took it as he helped her off the stool. “Come into my lair, lovely girl. It’s time for me to really see what you can take. Come and be mine for the night.”
He led her down the hallway, and she thought he was taking her into the master bedroom, but instead he led her into the room next to it. She wasn’t really surprised to see it was a dungeon of sorts, with a spanking bench padded in black leather and a hard point mounted in the ceiling, with chains hung from it that ended in a spreader bar with padded leather suspension cuffs attached. There were a long padded table with eyebolts and wrist and ankle cuffs for restraint and a sleek modern wood armoire hung with floggers and whips, canes and paddles. And his violet wand and various attachments were laid out on a table. Candles burned in wall sconces around the room, and on a high dresser, lending soft, flickering lighting and a subtle scent to the room. It was a sensual den of decadence—a true lair. She had one fleeting moment to imagine how many other women he’d brought there. But she also knew none of that mattered, because now it was her there, in this place where he had gone to some trouble to set up a gorgeous seduction. And despite the strong woman she was—or maybe because of it, she realized in a small flash—she was giving in to that seduction. Enjoying it. She would revel in it tonight, be in the moment. With him.
When he led her to the center of the room and began to undress her, she stood quietly, shivering at every touch of his hands, at the slip and slide of her silk dress as he drew it over her head.
“Ah, that’s perfect. You’re perfect,” he told her, running his hands over her bare body. “So delectably naked under your pretty dress. Even more naked, knowing there was only this thin layer of silk between us over dinner. While you were behind me on my bike. Fucking delicious.”
“I know how to follow instructions,” she said through the languid haze settling over her.
“Mmm, yes, you do.”
He smoothed his palms over her naked breasts, and she closed her eyes, surging into his touch as desire rippled over her skin, then down deep into her belly, her sex.