Her body responded. But her mind drifted.
She thought of Alec. Of his hands, his voice, the way he looked at her as more than a body to command, and a game to play. Marcus was skilled. Gentle. Even sweet. But he didn’t know her and didn’t see her. Not really.
He kissed her shoulder, murmuring, “If you choose me later, I’ll show you what it means to surrender completely.”
Ding.
“Well, now. That was damn quick.” Marcus helped her up, steadying her as the clamps, vibe, and plug shifted all at once.
He kissed her once more—soft, lingering—and sent her on her way. No more swats, mercifully.
She walked slowly, legs wobbly, body overloaded, her mind spinning. She’d been touched, teased, filled, and praised. But none of it had reached the place Alec did with a single glance. At last, she was starting to understand what she really needed.
Emily staggered more than walked into the fifth clearing. In the center, adjusting a small, padded table, stood someone she hadn’t expected. Leland.
Her stomach flipped.
He wasn’t just a dom. He was Alec’s friend—and hers. She’d shared coffee with him, traded jokes—his mostly dirty—and more than one while he was on duty and she couldn’t sleep, shared late-night talks. Seeing him here, dressed all in black, focused and dominant, was disorienting.
Leland glanced up. “Emily. You made it.”
She croaked a bit like a frog when she said, “Hi.”
“Didn’t expect me, did you?”
“No. I mean, no, sir.”
He lips twitched in a hint of a smile. “I’m not here to freak you out. Just to introduce you to something new.”
She closed the distance between them. He was calm, composed, familiar, but the glowing purple wand in his hand made everything feel foreign.
“Climb up and lie back,” he said gently.
With her cuffs still locked behind her, nipples pinched, the vibe buzzing merrily away, and the plug seated deep, the movement was awkward at best—next to impossible once everything shifted. She was a live wire, and Leland’s crackling wand promised more.
“Will it hurt?” she asked.
“Not unless you want it to.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“We’ll start slow.”
He traced the wand over her thighs, close but not touching. Static danced across her skin, a sharp, tingling buzz that made her muscles jump. He moved to her belly then circled her breasts—carefully avoiding the clamps. The sensation was erotic, but strange—an electric flutter that danced along her nerves and tightened her muscles in places no hands ever had. Her body reacted instantly, even as her heart and mind remained impassive.
“You’re very responsive,” he said, watching her closely. “But you’re somewhere else.”
Her gaze met his—keen, understanding. He’d nailed it.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No need to be.” He turned off the wand and set it aside. “This isn’t about performance. It’s about discovery.”
He propped a hip on the edge of the table, resting one hand lightly on her thigh. “You’re trying to figure out if it’s the kink that moves you or the man.”
“It’s all very confusing,” she admitted.
“It can be, starting out,” he replied. “But here’s a hint. If you’re asking the question, it’s probably not the kink.”
