Finding Master Right

It took effort to keep her jaw from dropping. She was pretty sure she stared much longer than was socially acceptable.

His eyes gleamed. “Sorry. I just got home from work. Meeting ran late.” The door opened wider as he stood to the side. “Come in.”

She floundered for words for a moment, then managed a husky, “Okay.” She forced her feet to move and walk inside. So much for keeping control. But it wasn’t her fault she was practically drooling on the man. He’d just stumbled onto her biggest fantasy.

Shit. Already warmth had started between her legs. She’d never be able to keep a distance this way. After she let him take her coat, she asked, “Um. Are you go

Please say yes, then come back wearing a Hawaiian shirt and acid-wash jeans.

He’d probably make those look good too.

“Do you want me to?”

She gulped. “It’s up to you, of course. It just looks . . .” Sexy, amazing, fuckable . . . “confining.”

“Don’t worry about me, Trouble.” His gaze slid down her body. He seemed pleased. “I didn’t give you guidelines about what to wear today.”

Her nipples rubbed against her T-shirt, sensitive already. Wanting to prove she could be a good submissive, she’d followed his instructions from last time—no underwear or bra and hair down.

He made a circle motion with his finger, signaling for her to turn around.

She did, feeling her cheeks heat. Was he looking for panty lines? He wouldn’t find them.

“Very nice.”

There was a strange satisfaction in making him happy. It’d happened last time they were together too. She didn’t normally put what other people thought of her high on her priority list. Her aunt and uncle had built her up enough to not need other people’s approval. But pleasing Ba

“Yeah, well, I figured it was a fair bet that you’d like it.”

He nodded. “I do. But I wasn’t sure if you were going to come today. You sounded pretty noncommittal in your text.”

Feeling slightly guilty, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Sorry. It’s been a busy week at work, so I was distracted.”

“Come on. I’ll get you a drink, and you can tell me about it.”

She followed him to the kitchen, thankful they weren’t jumping right into training. Maybe some time to get to know each other better would make this feel less awkward.

In the massive kitchen, she went to sit on a stool at the breakfast bar.

“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his finger at her. “A good sub waits for her Dom to tell her where she’s allowed to sit.”

Worry fluttered in her chest. She looked at the cold tile floor. “You’re not go

“No.” Casually, he strolled to the fridge and retrieved two water bottles. He handed one to her, then sat down at the small table on the other side of the room. With a half smile, he pointed to his lap.

He wanted her to sit there? Oh no. No, no, no. She shook her head, but he gave her a pretty frightening Dom-eye that turned her insides to mush. Her feet moved without her permission until she was standing in front of him.

She sighed. “Do we have to start this already?”

“I don’t have an on-and-off switch. If you want to be trained by me, then you’re at my disposal.” He pointed again. “Sit.”

Her body sunk onto his lap as she rolled her eyes.

A second later, he grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “Next time do it without the eye roll, little girl. That sort of thing will get you in trouble.”

She jerked away, feeling like this was getting out of her control already. But wasn’t she there to give over control? She pushed that pesky challenge from her mind. She could practice and learn without handing over the reins fully. Ba

“I’m go

Her stomach dropped at the small implied threat. What would he do if she did it again? Spank her? Make her stand in the corner? Even though it made her pussy clench with excitement, it was too embarrassing to consider for real. Besides, she’d told herself she wouldn’t push him this time.

“So, tell me about work. What’s going on?”

Now that her girly bits were all warm and achy, the last thing she wanted to talk about was work. But maybe it would calm her down so she could be objective again. “I have a few clients being discharged. I worry about them when they leave.”

“You worry they’ll end up back on drugs?”

“Most of them do.” God, sometimes her job was so depressing. “I have this one client, we’ll call him S. He gave me a hell of a time in the begi

“You really care about your clients, don’t you?”

She nodded. “For some of them, I’m the only one left who does.”

It was silent for a moment, and she wondered if she’d said too much. Maybe she shouldn’t talk about herself so much.

“So, what made you pick that for a career?”

Her gaze dropped to her hands fiddling nervously in her lap. She thought back to her childhood. Even at the age of seven, she’d known there was something wrong with her mother. Her arms were always covered in bruises. She looked sick all the time—too thin, constantly sniffling, twitchy, and easily agitated. All signs she saw in her clients now.

Her aunt, Grace, had taken custody of Kate long before it’d gotten that bad, but her mother always resented it. She’d come by the house, begging to see Kate, promising she was clean and wanting to bring her home. Kate would stare out the window, afraid her mother would steal her away when Auntie Grace and Uncle Mark weren’t looking. Back then, she’d sort of remembered her mother’s rosy cheeks and a su

“You don’t have to answer,” Ba

His voice pulled her from the unexpected reminder. “No, it’s okay. I don’t exactly know why I felt drawn to work with this population. My mother was an addict. A normal person would’ve kept as far away from it as possible.” She gave him a shaky smile. “There’s probably something wrong with me. A superhero complex or something.”

He shrugged. “It makes sense to me. You’re a sweet girl, and this is a caring profession. Plus, you have the co

“No. My aunt and uncle raised me. They couldn’t have kids anyway. I had a happy life.”

“Good.”

“I saw my mom once in a while though. It still bothers me. I don’t even know what happened to her. Sometimes I worry she might stumble into the clinic one day. I think I’d panic. I probably should’ve picked a job outside of town.” She half-smiled. “But I love my family and friends too much.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“And the job market sucks. There’s a zillion social workers and psychology majors out there fighting for the same jobs. It’s a miracle I got as far as I did. I’m on my way to a supervisor position.” She might have been bragging slightly, bringing it up like that.

Instead of calling her out on it, he smiled. “I’m not surprised. You’re smart and driven and responsible. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” she replied awkwardly, now kicking herself for bragging. Humility was not one of her strong suits.

She adjusted herself on his lap. The muscles in his thighs kept moving, and it was odd having this conversation so close to someone’s face. But his size made her feel petite. And sitting on his lap made her feel more submissive than when she’d first walked in. That was probably the point. He liked throwing her off balance.