Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
But who am I kidding? I always have a level handy, along with every other tool I might possibly need in any situation. In a toolbox built into the floor at the very back of the Hummer. It’s where I had grabbed the medical supplies to treat her hand the night she decided to catch a falling cactus in her palm.
Anyway, natural breasts always, always have at least one difference among each set, and hers do not. Minus the dark freckle on her left one nearing her cleavage, which would be there whether she got a boob job or not.
“That’s all?” she asks, pulling my gaze from her mesmerizing tits to move back and forth between her green irises. “Sir, I mean. That’s all, Sir?”
The corner of my lips quirks up. “Good girl for correcting yourself.”
Her chin tilts down the slightest hint, but her eyes don’t leave mine.
“What do you mean, little one?” I ask.
She swallows, her lashes fluttering as my fingertips come ever closer to touching the hardened tip of her breast. “I mean… umm… your eyes. That’s what people get uncomfortable about, Sir? Just the fact they move around when you talk to them? That seems… silly.” She shakes her head. “Isn’t it—” She gasps as I circle right around her areola, torturously close but still not giving in to where we both want to feel my touch. “—microexpressions or something? Everyone looks up and left or up and right… to either access memories or to make up a story to answer someone’s question?” She’s practically panting now. “I… I can’t remember which one is which at the moment, Sir,” she whispers, and fuck me, hearing her call me that with her growing desperate for a firmer hand actually makes me have to exert some self-control.
This woman is setting off the Primal Dom within me, the part of me I keep contained except for on very rare occasions, because it’s the only time I give up my tight grip on the reins of my control and allow my instincts to take over. It takes a strong and very special kind of woman to take it when it’s unleashed. There’s a violence, an inhuman strength, that lives inside me, and when it’s given permission to rip free of its restraints, things can go bad very quickly if I’m with the wrong person.
If I’ve judged a submissive incorrectly.
Or if she’s done what I was suspicious Sienna was doing before, pretending to be something she’s not in order to seem more desirable.
It’s why it’s just as important that a Dom can trust his sub. He has to be able to trust she’s been honest about her limitations, because if she isn’t, he could hurt her when he was sincerely taking great care not to. A genuinely good Dominant can be made to look like a bad one, a careless one, if a sub is dishonest with them.
And that’s not to say a sub who’s being dishonest is doing it to trick a Dom, to cause something negative to happen. They think of it like a little white lie; no harm could come of it. A sub could be fibbing about their pain tolerance because they want to make their Dom happy. Or they could say they enjoy something—a toy, a position, a scene, what have you—when really they just grin and bear it, because they think it brings their Dom joy. Their dishonesty could be as simple and well-meaning as giving in to something they don’t care for in order to be a “good submissive.” Or maybe they fear they won’t be good enough and their partner will leave them if they set too many boundaries. Whatever the case may be, it’s downright dangerous for a sub to keep the full truth from their Dom. And lying by omission is just as precarious.
“Of course you’d know about microexpressions, my smart girl,” I rumble against her ear.
She lets out a puff of air that was probably meant to be a laugh. “I don’t know about smart, Sir. I just binge-watch a lot of TV. It was on that show Lie to Me.”
And here’s an example of when I’m even more different from most men.
Whether she’s consciously fishing for a compliment or reassurance with that little self-deprecating stab, I don’t acknowledge it when a woman does this. I know a lot of people’s automatic response would be to say something about her intelligence level being much higher than merely remembering something off the television. I’ve observed this my entire life, and it’s one of those social norms I just can’t get behind.
That’s not to say if my sub or even just a colleague or acquaintance came to me and asked for reassurance, I wouldn’t give it to them. That’s completely different. In that situation, they’re being honest with their intentions, open about what they feel they are lacking, and I can in turn reward that honesty and openness with the validation they crave.