Driven By Fate(3)

Soothe her. Porter was so surprised by the uncharacteristic urge, he dropped the flogger he’d been holding, immediately reaching down to straighten it without taking his gaze off the girl. His eyes tracked downward to light on her ancient pair of runners, enough dirt on them to suggest she’d earned those toned legs from physical activity. It didn’t excuse their hideousness.

What did excuse it? Big silver eyes. Yes, silver. They were the lightest shade of blue he’d ever seen. Not even enough to be categorized as blue. The contrast they created against her tanned skin was extraordinary, exotic, at total odds with her tomboy appearance. If she’d walked into Serve wearing leather, she never would have made it to this room, not if any other man in the building had a say in it. As it was, though, this ragamuffin—who couldn’t be older than twenty-two—had shown up in his room.

And she wasn’t his arranged partner. There was protocol that he always followed when arranging this type of thing and it included knowing what the woman looked like. Her limits. This was not that woman.

Was she attempting to pretend otherwise? Allowing this situation to go on any longer went entirely against his personality. He liked terms stated up front. Keeping an airtight schedule. Yet there was an insistent, undeniable need to let the charade play out, if she was indeed trying to fool him. Even if he didn’t quite understand why the need existed, it pulled at him with compelling force. The words that would break the spell refused to come.

“Do you need a reminder to remove your clothing?” He lifted his leather bag off the bed and set it down carefully on a nearby chair. “I can’t imagine why. It was very clearly stated in the terms that the clothes come off immediately.”

Her confidence wavered a moment before that stubborn chin lifted once more, sending long brown hair—in desperate need of a brush—sliding over her shoulders. Lust pooled low and heavy in his groin at that show of mettle. It only increased when she clutched the edge of her shirt and tossed it over her head. Onto the ground. Any other time, he would order his submissive to pick up the discarded garment and fold it neatly. He needed everything in its place, goddammit. But he couldn’t—could not—tear his eyes away from the breasts she’d revealed. A groan even managed to slip from his mouth before he could catch it.

She was golden all over, everywhere but the pink tips of her nipples. An image of her arms stretched and bound above her head while he sucked those peaks made his cock rise in his pants. This had been a mistake, going through with the ruse. He was supposed to be appreciative, aroused, but never…tempted. These encounters were a healthy environment to exercise control over himself. Another person. But at that moment, his thoughts were anything but in control. There were…the beginnings of chaos.

“Man. Are you always this tense?” She swaggered toward the bed and hopped up onto the padded surface, making her breasts jiggle. “Seems like that should be my job considering you just picked up a horsewhip.”

He had? Porter looked down to find the leather object wrapped tightly in his fist. “It’s called a crop,” he enunciated. “And I don’t recall giving you permission to get on the bed.”

“Should I get off?” She reclined back, supporting herself with her hands. “Because that actually does seem like your job.”

Porter’s restraint caved in on itself, causing reality to blur. In that moment, he forgot this wasn’t the person he’d arranged to see, but someone else entirely. Someone who obviously didn’t know what the hell she’d gotten herself into. The beautiful temptation that had chosen to defy him, to seek punishment. He was all too willing to oblige her.

He gripped her knees and yanked her off the bed, and a slight tremor passing through those limbs knocked some sense into him. Just not enough. He whirled her around until she faced the bed, aligning himself flush with her back. Fuck, she curved right into his lap. “I don’t think you heard me. You couldn’t have, since your ass if still being hidden from my eyes by these jeans.” He unsnapped the top button, savoring the way she gasped with awareness of who was in charge. Finally. “Maybe I should just rip them off you. Put them out of their misery.”

“Fine.” She sagged onto the table. “Just put me out of mine, too, please.”

She came into sharp focus then. Not just her physical attributes, which were more than enough to keep his attention. It was the plaintiveness in her voice, though, that captivated him. He’d only been in her presence for minutes and he knew this wasn’t someone who begged, or revealed weakness if she could damn well help it. Not unless she sorely f*cking needed it. That need demolished him. For so long, he’d been playing out scenes, but they never felt real. She was real. She was happening to him.

“If you can’t do it, pal, I’ll find someone who will.”

“Over my dead body.” He cupped her upturned ass in his hands, where it fit like a dream. “There is a way I conduct myself—my pleasure—to make sure I don’t go too far. Or I will. Do you understand me? I’m not your beginner course.”

“I didn’t ask for one.” She looked at him over her shoulder, those silver eyes cutting right through him. “Everything, every time, feels like a beginner course. Give me the real thing.”

Nagging irritation sliced through him at the mention of her having other experiences. Elsewhere. With other men. Absurd, that. But poignant as hell, nonetheless. “You want a spanking? Or should I use one of my tools?”