Chapter Three
Remington knew the exact moment she decided to stay. The glint of acceptance in her meadow green eyes made him want to roar in satisfaction and beat his chest like an ape. Instead, he kept his control, wrapping it around him tight, and dropped his hand from her chin.
Inside, he shook like a willow tree caught in a hurricane.
She was here.
Cara Winters.
God, how had she grown more beautiful? As a young woman, she’d radiated a fresh-faced sweetness that grabbed his heart from first look. Those riotous red curls had been tamed and now curved straight and sleek against her cheeks. Her skin was still a pale, pure cream he longed to taste, with a generous portion of freckles over the bridge of her pert nose. Her Irish green eyes still stunned an onlooker, with the swirl of gold around the iris, pulling a man in and spinning him in a web of fogginess. Rem always loved the generous portions of her body, her wide hips, lush breasts, and plump lips. When she was younger, she’d always tried to hide, telling him too many times she was fat. It took time, but by doling out strict punishments for each infraction, eventually she’d stopped insulting herself, and him, by putting down her body. His hand tingled at the memory of spanking her gorgeous ass, his favorite part of her anatomy. The way she’d wiggle and scream, trying desperately to pull away though she’d grown so wet and hot he ended up fucking her before the punishment was even done.
Crap. His dick grew hard, pulsing against his jeans like he was a kid again. He’d fallen for her in his freshman year at college when they were only nineteen years old. English 101. They’d been tortured with poetry, and the instructor forced them to recite a poem aloud to the group. He never forgot the bright flame of her hair hiding her face as she ducked her head to read. The slow, seductive baritone of her voice, the trembling of her fingers as she clutched the book was a moment in time that was forever etched in his mind. He’d fallen hard right then and there. Asked her out. And fell in love with her over the next few months.
The memories crashed in his head. College sweethearts. The odds had been against them, but Remington knew she was the one he wanted. He’d already known his tendencies for dominance in the bedroom, and she was a pure hearted submissive, full of sweetness and the need to surrender to him. Cara hadn’t wanted to admit she was submissive though, not liking the term or assumptions. He tried showing her all the pleasures of letting him take charge in the bedroom, and her body lit up under his instruction. Still, Rem figured they’d take it slow and explore different levels as she became more comfortable. They graduated, and he decided to go to dealer school in Atlantic City. They moved in together while she studied history and worked on her master’s degree, planning to teach at the college level. Everything had been perfect. Planned out. They’d been happy. Their future bright with endless possibilities.
Until she disappeared.
Now, she stood before him. Wanting to be submissive. His submissive. Rem had the chance to find the truth, and experience the one thing that haunted him throughout the years.
Cara Winter’s full submission.
He motioned to the velvet chaise. “Sit down and let’s talk first.”
Her fingers clenched, and then slowly relaxed. Her chest rose as she dragged in a breath, calming herself, and walked over to the chaise. Her motions were elegant. Simplified. She’d grown into herself and achieved full power, owning her curves and body with a pride that elicited a raw lust. Her breasts spilled over the black corset, cinching in at the waist and flaring at the hips. The black skirt barely covered her full ass, clinging to her flesh and stretching to accommodate as she strode across the room. Muscled legs flexed, working the four inch black stilettos, he’d instructed her to wear. Rem imagined her heels digging into his thighs as he fucked her. Imagined her spread-eagled against the wall, while those heels tilted her ass up like a gift made for him and only him.
Fuck. He needed to get his shit together before she realized he was acting like a horny teen rather than an experienced Dom. She couldn’t know how badly he’d missed her, or how often he’d thought of her over the years. If he was to own her submission, he needed to be in full control at all times.
Rem re-focused and sat across from her. Steepling his fingers together, he waited in perfect silence, gathering his thoughts. The old Cara would’ve ducked her head. Fidgeted. Sighed impatiently. The new Cara looked back at him with a steady gaze, completely still, and focused on his next action. His gut twisted in arousal, warring with anger. Where had she learned such control? How many men had she given herself to after she ran from him? Had he been so disappointing she needed to replace him? Rem tamped down on the bitterness and spoke. “I’d like a bit more background before we continue. I received your list of hard and soft limits. Is there anything I need to know about that’s a trigger?”
“No,” she said quietly.
He’d memorized the list so he ticked off the items that concerned him. “Flogging is acceptable. You said no blood or scarring. What about marking? Bruises?”
“Marks or light bruising is fine.”
“Anal is a soft limit. Have you tried it before?”
“I’ve never tried it but I’m curious.”
“You’ve played with an array of toys before. What’s your favorite?”
Her skin flushed a delicate pink. “Vibrator with clitoral stimulator.”
“Yes, one of my favorites, too.” Her flush deepened but she kept her gaze on his. Nice. “Sexual intercourse is permissible?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to push your limits, Cara. Hard. I need to be sure you’re ready for this. I’m a strict Dom, and I will do things to your body, to your mind, that will break you down. I will go deep, and if you fight me, I’ll fight back.”
Her pupils dilated, so her eyes turned more gold than green. She swallowed and twisted her fingers together. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, Sir.”
The title sang in his ears and stiffened his dick. How long had he craved her to call him Sir without prompting? The term did odd things to his heart, bringing back a tidal rush of memories he didn’t want to probe. He kept his attention on the moment, to the woman she was now, and what she needed from him.
Because his fantasy had been the same exact thing.
A woman he could break. A woman he could conquer. A woman he could heal.
A woman who could heal him.
“What is your safe word?”
“Red.”
“You will use yellow to slow things down. Do you have any concerns before we begin?”
“Remington?”
His name rolling from her plump lips nearly brought him to his knees. She used to whisper in his ear right before she came, as if repeating his name over and over helped her hold onto something stable. He fought to keep the emotion from his face. “You will call me Sir.”
Grief flickered in her green eyes but he convinced himself it was just a trick of the light. “I’m sorry, Sir. I need to know if this—if this is okay. Should we talk about what happened?”
“We both have something the other needs. Tomorrow, we’ll part and never see each other again. Tonight, you will not lie to me. You will give me everything I ask, and I will take care of you because I’m your Dom until dawn. Do you understand?”
Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down hard, as if trying to find her courage. Rem studied her. Waited. Now was the time fear struck, and the reality of their situation was total. The ghosts of the past shimmered around them, taunting. It was her decision. He only had as much control as she gave him, and she needed to be ready if the evening would be what they both craved.
Her breath shuddered from her chest. “I understand.”
Rem cocked his head.
“Sir.”
“Very good. Our scene will begin. Please go to the edge of the bed, remove your clothes, and greet me in sub position.”
Cara rose from the chaise, walked to the edge of the king size platform bed, and began untying her corset.