Chapter 32 Chapter thirty two
“Yes, Rafe,” she whispered desperately. “Anything you say.”
He’d demanded she talk to him. Her verbal acquiescence was part of the spell, a web that wrapped its inescapable silken strands around her. She hung the jacket on a nearby coatrack, then faced him, unsure.
He studied her, as if memorizing every detail.
A little unnerved, she covered her bare arms with her hands.
“Don’t hide. I always want to see you. The parts you love, the parts you don’t. I want your vulnerabilities as well as your strengths. All of you.”
“You’re asking a lot.”
He was crossing an invisible line, one she’d drawn years ago to keep people—men—from getting too close. With a few words, he’d stated his intention of demolishing it. It made him more than scary. It made him dangerous.
“I haven’t even begun.” His words were a promise, buried beneath a warning. “Drop your arms.”
Her safe word lodged in her throat. This was madness.
He hadn’t asked her to do anything that made her physically uncomfortable, but the emotional implications terrified her.
Even though the silence stretched, he didn’t repeat himself, waiting for her decision. Then, because it was inevitable, she lowered her arms.
He exhaled. In that moment, she realized how important this was for him as well. The knowledge fed her courage.
“Now unfasten the top button on your blouse.”
It was too much to hope that he’d do it for her. Part of her wanted him to sweep her off her feet, do terrible things to her, and allow her to abdicate the responsibility.
“Yes, Rafe.”
Her fingers shook a little as she complied.
“Second, please.”
His gaze holding hers captive, she followed his order.
“Part the material.”
She exposed her chest, revealing her cleavage and the lace outline of her bra.
“So obedient. Now come to me. I can’t wait much longer.”
With each step, her pulse accelerated. She wanted to please him, wanted this adventure, no matter where it led.
When she was in front of him, he asked,
“On my list, what things intrigued you?”
Her insides rocked as if she were on a boat out in the middle of the ocean, away from any sight of land.
“I think I might like to be restrained.”
“Like with handcuffs, behind your back?”
“Or…”
“Nothing you could say would shock me.”
“Yes. Or with a tie.”
“Excellent. What else? Surely something intrigued you?”
Hope took him at his word, that he couldn’t be shocked.
“Orgasm denial.”
“One of my favorites.” He grinned.
His expression faded so fast she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. As he’d promised, he didn’t appear surprised. Happy, maybe. But not shocked.
“Did you look it up?”
She recalled pictures of submissives who looked frustrated, one a bit dazed. She’d read accounts of how a Dominant had frustrated a sub for an entire week. The sub had said thoughts of sex dominated her days and that she’d climaxed in her sleep without touching herself. Hope wasn’t sure whether that was fact or fiction. But she’d clicked through a half dozen similar stories.
“Yes.”
He waited for her to continue.
Hope wrung her hands, as if that would ward off his intensity.
“The…” She cleared her throat. “The submissive gets close to coming and the Dom refuses to let her.”
“It can be during a scene, or in general. Even as a punishment.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“I’m not into the whole idea of punishment.”
“Even if you do something your Dom has forbidden?”
“Well…” Her tummy quivered. “Maybe. In that context.”
He nodded.
“Do you reach orgasm quickly?”
Shame and embarrassment flooded her. Was this the way most Doms seduced their subs? By asking such personal questions? Destroying barriers in his path? Or was this something unique to him?
“I…uhm…”
“Floundering won’t save you.”
“I don’t date a lot.”
“Do you masturbate?”
Heat flooded her body. Who the hell asked that kind of question?
“Is this—”
“Necessary? Yes, it is. How many times a week do you masturbate?”
Her blood thickened, moving through her veins in sluggish little bursts.
“It depends.”
With a touch so gentle it unraveled her, he said,
“If there’s a question you don’t want to answer or information you prefer to keep private, say so. But don’t play games. If it’s a question you can answer, do so.”
He was forcing her to confront deeply personal thoughts.
“I masturbate several times a week, sometimes more.”
Embarrassment danced through her, but she pressed on.
“It helps me to sleep. Most nights I take a bath, and then sometimes I…” She tilted her chin back. “Play with myself.”
“Not so difficult, right?”
Not once she’d shed her inhibitions.
“It becomes easier with practice. Honesty about your sexuality makes it easier for you to get your needs met.” He released her wrist. “How do you do it? With a toy? With your fingers?”
“It becomes easier.” She replayed his words for encouragement. “It depends. Most nights I use my fingers. I have a dildo I like, and sometimes I use a vibrator.”
“Are you naked? Or do you slip the toy inside your panties?”
“I’m…yes. Naked.”
“And back to my original question. Do you come quickly when you masturbate?”
Sometimes in less than a minute.
“Yes.”
“And with a man?”
“I told you I don’t date all that often.” It was easier to protect herself if she didn’t get too close. “To be honest, as you demand, I’m more self-conscious when I’m with a partner. Shy. Nervous. So sometimes I don’t climax at all.”
“And do you also play with your nipples, or just your pussy?”
Mortification gnawed at her. He expects me to answer that?
With infinite patience, he waited.
“Not my nipples.”
“Show me.”
Perplexed, she frowned.
“Take off your clothes, then lie on the desk and show me how you masturbate.”
She stood there, agape.
“Are you serious?”
Lazily, he lifted one eyebrow.
“Was there anything in my tone to suggest otherwise?”
Oh. God. No. There wasn’t.