Finding Master Right

“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.”

Ba

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, Ba

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. Ba

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