Beg for It(56)

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Fuck, how she loved that, his instant obeisance. The reverence in his tone, tinged with that underlying hitch of arousal. She could never pretend to understand why such submission tripped her switch, but it did, and she was so f*cking glad it worked for them both.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t missed it over the years, she contemplated as she watched him disappear down the hallway and she helped herself to a bottle of cold seltzer from his bar fridge. She’d never forgotten how it had been to be in control, that was for sure. She’d done some reading about kink, mostly fiction, but a few reference manuals that had catered to the Mistress fantasy. The few times she’d searched for porn on the computer, she’d gravitated toward the clips featuring male submission. She’d known about her buttons, but somewhere along the way after breaking up with Reese the first time, she’d just stopped expecting them to get pushed.

She’d settled, Corinne thought as she sipped cool, bubbling water. Settled for men who made promises but didn’t follow through. Men who’d let her down. Men like her ex-husband, who had never quite understood what it meant to put someone else first. Not her, not their kids, not really. It didn’t make them bad men. Just not the right men.

Was Reese the right man? After all this time? She set her glass on the bar at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. At the sight of him, her breath caught, jagged in her throat like she’d swallowed a burr.

He wore nothing but a pair of clinging, dark gray boxer briefs that perfectly cupped his ass and emphasized the thick muscles of his thighs. His cock pushed at the front of the soft fabric, not quite tenting it, but well on the way.

He’d slicked his dark hair into soft spikes and yes, oh f*ck, he’d outlined his eyes with black that made them seem that much bluer. When he saw her looking, he stopped, one foot flat and the other, toes pressing the tile, so he could turn. Slowly, one side and the next. Posing for her.

His fingers curled slightly at his sides, but he kept his chin up as she came closer to look him over. She made a show of it, the inspection, running her hands over his body without lingering. Stepping back to let her gaze take in every inch of him. Now his cock strained at the fabric, and her mouth and throat went dry at the glimpse of flesh trying to peek over the waistband.

“Tell me what you like about this,” she whispered.

Reese didn’t hesitate. “I like feeling as though you like looking at me. That my body gets you excited. I like doing what you told me to do, turning you on. I like being…”

“What, puppy?” Curious, she ran a fingertip down the ridges of his belly but skated away before she touched his cock.

His voice rasped when he answered, “I like being a thing to you. I mean, I know I’m a person. But I like being this thing that brings you pleasure. It makes me want to do whatever you say.”

“You like me objectifying you?”

“Yes.”

“You like me adoring you,” she added, still in a throaty whisper that he could have no trouble hearing.

“Yes, Ma’am. I f*cking love it.”

She took a few steps back from him on unsteady legs. Her dress unzipped in the back, and she let it puddle to the floor as she stepped out of it. Clad only in the brand-new panties and bra she’d bought especially for the weekend, she had a second to wish she’d added something sexier, a garter belt or something, but at the sound of Reese’s appreciative moan, she stopped worrying.

When he moved toward her, she held up a hand. “I didn’t tell you to move.”

Another groan, this one less pleased, slipped out of him. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She laughed and walked toward the windows, beginning to relax and enjoy this even more. The power, the control, made better by Reese’s obvious arousal. What might’ve seemed contrived with someone else felt natural to her—to command. Demand. To expect obedience and receive it, unhesitatingly.

God, it felt so good.

She knew there were lots of games people played. Rules. She hadn’t needed to live in the kink community to understand that much. Hell, she’d read that famous trilogy, who hadn’t? Still, formality had never quite been their thing.

There were some new things she’d been thinking about though.

Without turning to face him, she could still see the hint of his reflection in the glass. He hadn’t moved. She let her fingers press the window, feeling the chill. Her nipples tightened, though not from cold.

“My list,” she told him. “It’s gotten very long.”





Chapter Thirty-Two



Standing in his briefs with a boner that could have broken bricks, Reese should’ve felt ridiculous. Especially with the makeup lining his eyes—shit, yeah he remembered doing that back in his club kid days, but he was well past that, now. Putting it on had come back to him though. The way to keep the lines smooth but smudgy. His father had always scowled at the sight of him heading out to the clubs, and a huge part of Reese’s reasons for wearing it had been defiance.

His queen had asked it of him, though, so all he felt was pride that he’d pleased her.

Reese had grown pretty used to pride over the years. Arrogance, too, according to more than one of his ex-lovers and most of his business colleagues. What they’d seen in him, though, was different than this…this calm. This sense of peace, of waiting and being ready to please. It was not, exactly, that she was making him a thing and not a person, but that with her, doing this, Reese felt beyond himself. Bigger in a way he never did doing anything else, not making a deal, not pulling a company out of the ground.