My breath was shallow, my skin hot and cold at the same time. My nipples were hard enough to cut rock, though he hadn’t touched me yet.
The air shifted behind me as his boots scuffed the floor. My pulse jumped and my gaze landed on the medieval chair in the middle of the room.
My fingers curled slightly, nails brushing my thighs. I forced them flat again, needing to silence the voices in my head.
“Do you submit?”
My knees nearly buckled as his words hit me. It had been all practice up till this point.
“Hands behind your back.”
His command slid over me like silk pulled tight. My arms moved before my mind could catch up. Wrists settling together, fingers lacing, putting me in that sensitive position where I couldn’t hide anything. Not that I could anyway, not with what little I wore. The black bra barely covered my breasts, the stockings and garter belt covered more than anything else, but didn’t at the same time.
He stepped closer. I didn’t see him. I didn’t dare turn and look, but the heat radiating behind me was impossible to ignore. My breath caught in my chest, frozen in the moment.
He didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. His nearness was enough to unravel me.
“I asked you a question.”
My thoughts raced. Had he? I caught myself before shaking my head. Did I submit?
Did I?
“Yes, Sir.”
The breath I’d been holding escaped on a shaky exhale.
“You’re wound too tight.”
I swallowed. “I know, Sir.”
While I hated the tremble in my voice, it didn’t bother me that he’d heard it.
A soft exhale ghosted my ear. Not a sigh, not quite a growl, but my body tensed, almost as if trying to pull him closer.
“You think you do,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “But I don’t think you understand what it means. Not yet.”
A shiver ran down my spine as he circled me slowly, his movement slow, controlled, predatory. I glued my gaze to the floor, but out of the corner of my vision, I noticed he wore his balaclava. It didn’t matter if he wore a mask or if my eyes were covered. I saw the same thing. In my mind, it was Sebastian Reid behind the mask.
Would my master care if he knew? Was it cheating to want one man while kneeling for another? It wasn’t like I could have a relationship with my master. Not outside of our sessions.
He stopped in front of me, his shined black boots coming into view.
“Breathe,” he said, his words almost a caress.
I did, but barely, as I let his scent ground me. Cedar, rain, and darkness. All him, all my master.
“Good.”
I hadn’t realized he’d lifted a hand until two fingers slid under my chin. Not quite touching, but hovering so close the warmth of him skated across my skin.
“Lift your head,” he said quietly.
His words weren’t harsh.
They weren’t gentle either.
I swallowed as I obeyed.
