“Say it,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He took off his hat.“I didn’t hear you clearly.”
This man never allowed her to hide.She cleared her throat.“Thank you, Cade.”
“Thank you, Sir, for letting me wear clothes.”
Her heart thudded as she repeated his words.“Thank you, Sir, for letting me wear clothes.”
Though he hadn’t moved, she felt as if he had.His power was a lethal thing and it claimed her as surely as if he’d dug his fingers into her shoulders.
“Yeah,” he said, the word laden with appreciation.
The more he had her under his spell, the more she wanted to be there.
He opened the back compartment and she removed her clothes and the damp towels.
“I’ll throw these in the washer,” she said.
“Thanks.”
She was aware that he continued to watch her as she entered the house.It wasn’t until she was in the mudroom that she was able to get her heartbeat back to normal.She sorted through the laundry basket for things she could include in the load.Doing the washing in someone else’s house was more intimate than cooking, she realized, as she pulled out a pair of his tight boxer briefs.
After the machine started its cycle, she headed upstairs.
She dropped his shirt and selected another from his closet, this time a short-sleeved navy-blue one.
Since she’d been in the river, she washed her hair, and was rinsing out the suds when he entered the bathroom.It amazed her how easy it was to be together, how natural.Maybe it was the dominance, the way his confidence affected her.He knew what he wanted, and he was clear in verbalizing it.“Are all BDSM relationships like this?”She slid the frosted-glass door open a bit and steam billowed into the room.
He was in front of the sink with a single-blade razor, keeping the outline of his goatee crisp.In the mirror, he met her gaze.“Like what?”
He looked so fucking handsome with the white towel wrapped around his waist and the blade a mere inch from his skin that she almost forgot her question.
He continued to wait and she mentally shook her head.
“I was thinking about expectations.”She closed the door.
“Go on,” he said, loud enough for her to hear.
“It’s easy to be around you.”She lathered the soap, considering what she wanted to say.“I wondered if it was because of the BDSM.”
“As I’ve said, a hundred different couples will have a hundred different relationships.That said, there’s a level of trust required in this type of arrangement.Things are purposefully discussed that may never come up for other people.”
“Anal sex, for example,” she said wryly.She could attest to the fact no boyfriend had ever mentioned it to her.Or spanking.Or hog-tying her, for that matter.
“That,” he agreed.“But also negotiations.Safe words.Even the aftercare.There’s a lot demanded from the sub, but at times greater demands from the Dom.”
“How so?”
“He has to be in control of himself and able to help the sub traverse whatever terrain she’s on.”
“It wasn’t your ass being stuffed full,” she protested.
“Nor will it be.”
She turned off the faucet.When she exited the stall, he was standing there holding a towel for her.
