Protege(27)

He stepped behind her and she waited. Maybe she’d insulted him. The man had orgy tapestries and fertility statues decorating his bedroom. Traditional sex was probably out of the question.

When he still didn’t speak or touch her, she scrunched her nose and lifted her gaze. It was so much harder to keep her head up when everything about what they were doing made her instinctively want to turn shy. Yet it also made her feel delicate, as though he were trying to lend her bravery.

The level of emotion and thought he injected into one teeny brush of his finger and the sparse words he’d used to direct her wasn’t anything she’d expected. There was undeniable authority banked in this man. Something she now realized she’d drastically underestimated.

When his hands brushed her shoulders she jumped. “We can try it without the formality for tonight, so long as you remember I’m in charge.”

She exhaled, her shoulders slightly drooping with relief. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Uh-oh.

He brazenly cupped her breast. “I understand shyness, Ms. Banks, but you signed up for something unique, something quite different from an ordinary relationship, and I intend to deliver. Starting tonight. The formality will come, but the authority doesn’t shift. I’m in charge. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. If you need to use your safe word I expect you to, without hesitating. Tell me what your safe word is.”

“It’s penguin, Sir.”

“Shall we move on?”

It seemed silly, but the reminder of that word brought courage. It gave her a safety net she very much needed in case things got out of hand. Nodding, she whispered, “Yes, Sir. I’m ready now.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but something shifted in his gaze as all the authority slid back into place. It wasn’t as if he stole control from her, but in some unspoken way he borrowed it and a sense of delicate ease took hold. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it was definitely unfamiliar, which might be why her instinct was to shrug it off.

His hands slid down to her hips and jerked her back to his front. She gasped as his fingers crawled over her tummy and combed through the hair at her apex. “This will be waxed tomorrow.”

“Waxed?”

“Yes.”

She was prepared to argue for a less painful approach, but all thought fled as he found her clit and slowly teased her sex, still holding her tight to his front. He was a desirable man, and something inside her called to him. When he touched her like this, a bit of her anxiety drifted away. Her shoulders relaxed into him as her knees softened and her head rested against his chest. In that split second of leaning into him, feeling him physically catch her weight as though it were his duty, a calm settled over her. It was incredible to be touched by a man, but there was something spectacular about being touched by a man like Jude Duval.

His mouth closed over her shoulder and she shivered. He had yet to kiss her and she wanted his mouth on hers more than anything else. Turning, she rose to her toes and frowned as he stepped out of reach.

His fingers caught her wrists, trapping them in a strong hold. “You don’t decide, Collette. That’s not how this works. I can be a little less formal, but you will never be the aggressor in my bed. Do you understand?”

His rejection was delicate, like a sharp blade made to cut as clean as possible, but it still sliced deep. Her head lowered and she whispered, “I just wanted to kiss you.”

“I will kiss you when I feel you’ve earned it.”

She blinked, wondering, again, if this was a mistake. In theory, the D/s dynamic had much appeal. There remained a simplicity that seemed lost within modern romance. But maybe she was too much a product of society, too influenced by liberation and notions of equality to bend to such a degree.

She wanted to experience everything Fernweh promised. “I’m sorry. I’m ready now, Sir.” She’d do it, because a part of her desperately wanted what he offered.

“Then let’s try again. Get on the bed, Collette.”

A distant ringing sounded in her head as her arms tingled with numbness. They would have sex and then things would come more naturally between them. She could do this. Swallowing repeatedly, something that seemed to happen continually around him, she nodded and climbed onto the tall mattress.

“On your stomach, please. Head down.”

Again, she frowned, but did as he asked. Folding her hands under her head, she found a comfortable pose and waited, but he didn’t join her on the bed. After several minutes, she lifted her shoulders and looked for him.

“Did I not instruct you to lie on your stomach, head down? You’re going to learn to follow directions, Collette. I insist on it.”

“But you’re just standing there.” What the hell was he doing?

“And if I chose to have you lie there until morning so I could stand and watch, that would be my right. Disobey me again—without using your safe word—and there will be a consequence.”

Grinding her teeth, she returned her cheek to her arms. Maybe he was having second thoughts about their agreement too. After another length of time, she suggested, “We could try again tomorrow.”

“Ms. Banks,” he snapped. “Am I being unclear?”