Cracking my knuckles, I drag myself back to the safety of protocol. “You know the club safe word?”
“Oh. Oh, yes. I do.” She smiles, the expression so bright and pretty it tweaks something in my chest. I shouldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not with this brand-spanking newbie who might not get that a scene is just a scene. “Red. Yellow if I need to slow down.”
“Good.”
“You gonna ask me my limits?” she asks, her eagerness drawing a laugh from deep inside me.
“Thisisyour first time, right?”
A nod.
“How about we take it real easy, hm?”
“Yep. Yep, okay.”
“You still want me to read this?”
“Oh. Um. Sure.”
As I go over her wants, and don’t wants, and everything in between, my dick goes warm and heavy. Everything she’s checked is right up my alley. Restraints, spanking, light flogging, orgasm control. The list goes on. I reach the last page, put it down, and take a moment to gather myself. When I speak again, my voice is rougher. A little raw from excitement.
“Okay. Your list is… good.”
I have to shove back the satisfaction I feel when she smiles, her ass wiggling with pleasure. Praise kink? Check.
“Showing me the list doesn’t mean you are asking me to do those things. Okay? I’ll get your consent every step of the way.” That is Kinkster Rule #1, whether you’re topping or bottoming. It should be etched in goddamn stone. Her palms are still face down on the table. “Can I touch your hands, Sunny?”
“Oh. Sure.”
Gently, I cover her hands with mine, no pressure, no weight. Just heat and presence. I watch the way her expression changes. Her eyes are huge as they drink everything in, and for a splitsecond, I want to see this—to live it—from her perspective. Not to be dominated but to get a hit of that first-timer eagerness.
The song ends. Behind me, Lucas cracks his whip and yells at the Doms to change tables. I ignore him, ignore whoever walks up with the intention of taking my place, and focus on Sunny.
“These.” I put the slightest bit of pressure on her hands. “Stay here. Got it?”
Heryesis breathy.
I stand, grab my chair, and set it down behind hers, taking in the round curve of her shoulders, the way her chest swells out of the neckline of a dress that’s likely meant to be sexy but comes off more sweet than anything. It’s black and shimmery and printed with what looks an awful lot like spiderwebs. So damn cute.
“This is pretty.” I flick the strap where it hugs her shoulder, careful not to touch her skin.
“Thank you.”
“Spooky.”
She snorts and cranes her neck to roll her eyes at me. “I don’t have a lot of fetishwear in my closet.”
“I like how the top’s almost a corset.”
“Right? I was looking for something a little corset-like, but at the same time, I came alone tonight and didn’t really want to walk around Carytown with, like, I don’t know, my boobs out in shiny, black…”
“Rubber?” I brush her auburn hair over one shoulder and watch goose bumps trail in its wake.
“Exactly. Rubber.” The shudder she gives is theatrical. Not into rubber, I note. Fair enough.
I straddle my chair, lean forward, and let myself breathe her in, not quite touching the nape of her neck but giving my body heat a chance to meet hers somewhere in the ether between us.Finally, after inhaling my fill, I put my lips close to her earlobe. “Can I touch your shoulders, Sunny?”
“Okay.”
