Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“For research purposes,” he says.
I swallow. “Of course,” I lie. “And anyway… didn’t you ask Tobias to shut those cameras off?”
He quirks a brow and nods slowly to himself, mulling this over. My body starts heating, first in my chest, then the warmth radiates out to my arms and hands, then lower still to my legs and belly. I’m on fire, blazing hot with need and want.
When he speaks, it’s soft and almost apologetic. “What kind of research do you need, babe?”
How far can I push this?
“Well,” I begin. “I’d like to take a look at the equipment first.” My voice sounds unnaturally high-pitched.
He nods and reaches for my hand. “Alright, then. Not sure what the hell else we’re gonna do, stuck in here with a blizzard out there.”
“Right,” I agree, chattering like a songbird. “Exactly what I was thinking. I mean, unless you find a deck of cards or something...”
He squeezes my hand. “Deck of cards, my ass,” he says.
“Hey, this is important.” I’m serious now. “For real, this book is going to be my breakout novel. You’ll see. Just wait and see what happens. I really did come here for research purposes.”
“Yeah?” he says. We didn’t plan it—well, I didn’t, anyway—but we’re falling into the easy camaraderie that was us when we were together, and I can’t turn away. “You know… I think you do need a really thorough research day,” he says. “For the sake of authenticity.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure,” he says. “Could be fun, you know. Plus, we’re alone at a BDSM club. It’s almost like it was fate.”
“Fate,” I whisper, my mind mired in our bitter past. But I shove those thoughts aside and allow myself to get a little excited about his proposition. “Okay. Huh. Well, what do you have in mind?”
“You be my submissive for today, and I’ll show you what it’s really like. Then you can take notes and bring what you learned to your book.” He won’t look at me, as if looking at me will shatter the moment.
“Submissive for the day,” I say thoughtfully. God, I freaking love this idea. I don’t have to commit to anything. It’s all role play, with no real strings attached, and today is a day that almost doesn’t count. It’s eerily silent in here, insulated by the blizzard outside. No one is here to witness what happens. He’s at work, and I will do my own form of work. Research. This isn’t a commitment. It isn’t even a date.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
We’ve passed the bar and now stand in the threshold of the dungeon. He releases my hand and turns to me. “Total submission,” he says, blue eyes aflame with vehemence and excitement.
“Like your slave?” I sputter.
He shrugs. “Sort of like that, yeah.” He flexes his fingers and nearly bounces on his feet, like a boxer in a ring, excitement rippling through him. “You’ll submit to me. Do anything I say. You’ll call me sir or master, and you’ll wear my collar. I’ll show you what it’s like, but you’ll have a safeword.” He raises a brow. “The consent thing may be dubious for your books, but not when you’re with me.”
We’re role playing, I tell myself, willing my heartbeat to slow, to not fall for him again. This will be platonic and staged and there’s nothing real about it.
“You’ll never get a chance like this again,” he says. Then his eyes darken. “And if you ever tried it with another man, I’d spank your ass.”
My pulse races. “Oh?” I croak out. “I thought we were role playing.”
“Full time submission is role play,” he says. “I don’t role play at being a dom.”
I’m confused and excited and reluctantly hopeful.
“Alright, then,” I tell him. “What’s my safeword?”
He holds my eyes and a soft, sad smile plays at his lips. “Mad.”
I know instantly why he chose it and the words fall from my lips unbidden. “The only people for me are the mad ones,” I whisper.
“The ones who are mad to live,” he continues. “Mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing…” It’s one of our favorite quotes. Jack Kerouac.
“Mad,” I repeat. “Got it.” I look around the dungeon. It’s shrouded in darkness, but sensual promises lie in the shadows. “And where do we begin?”
He smiles slowly, his gaze smoldering. Snapping his fingers, he points to the floor. “On your knees.”
It takes a second for my body to catch up to my mind, and I drop to my knees. The ground looks like concrete but has a softer surface, and I don’t feel the twang of pain I expected. I’ve never done this before. Never knelt before a man. And though something about it is so very wrong, like I’m subservient, I crave it and I have to shut off that part of my brain that wants to censor my actions.