The Auction (Club Indulgence Duet, #1)(28)

Surprise fills her expression. "You do?"

"Yes. You're new to all this. If you didn't have any, I'd be worried," I assure her.

A nervous smile appears, and she glances back at the page, then asks, "Why can't I be alone if I want?"

I don't hesitate. "Because I'm in charge and know what's best. If I feel you shouldn't be, then I won't allow you to be."

"Why wouldn't it be best for me?" she questions.

"I'm going to push you past your limits as you know them," I claim.

"What does that mean?"

"I can't answer that. You'll discover what it means through our sessions."

"Sessions?"

I reply, "When we're together."

She taps her finger on the table and stares at me.

"Next question?" I ask.

She picks up her pad and studies it, then says, "So whenever we do anything sexual, it's called playtime?"

I shrug. "For the purpose of this contract. You can call it whatever you want. Does that word bug you?"

She thinks a minute, then shakes her head. "No, it's okay."

"Great. What else is on your list?"

She hesitates, then clears her throat. "Ummm... It says I can only come when you permit me."

I can't help the curve forming on my lips. "That's correct."

I can see the confusion in her eyes. "How do I stop it if you're touching me?"

I work hard to keep from smiling so she doesn't think I'm patronizing her. I answer, "You'll learn."

Moments pass with tension filling the air. "Next concern," I assert.

She looks at the paper, then questions, "Can you give me an example of an accessory?"

I keep it light and easy so I don't scare her off. "Sure. A blindfold is an example."

Panic fills her face. She turns toward the window and taps the wood faster.

"Is something wrong with that?" I ask.

She reaches for her neck and grasps her collar, admitting, "They put one on me last night."

"To bring you here?"

She shakes her head. "No. Yes, they did, but I meant my father's men. It was just briefly."

Anger rages through me, thinking about what her father's done to her. And I'm not thinking straight because I should have asked her this morning what the men look like or if she knows their names. They're going to see my wrath as well. I file it in the back of my mind for another discussion and soften my tone, asking, "But you allowed them to blindfold you to come here?"

She looks at her list, lifts her chin, and asserts, "Yes. It's fine. Umm..." She swallows hard.

I wait for her to continue, not sure if I should push the blindfold issue or not. I need to know if she's got some sort of PTSD from it. I don't want to trigger her.

Her face turns maroon as she blurts out, "What if you don't fit?"

"Sorry? I'm not following. Can you be clearer?" I ask.

"In me." She looks down at her finger, which is tapping like she's a master typist. She adds, "You're pretty big."

I do everything I can to not laugh. I put my hand over her finger and demand, "Blakely, look at me."

Mortified, she obeys but winces when her eyes meet mine.

I firmly state, "I assure you that you and I will fit together."

"How do you know?"

I can't control it anymore and smile. "I just know."

My assurance doesn't seem to convince her. She asks, "Are you going to hurt me?"

"When I penetrate you? No."

She points out, "The contract discusses bruises. And hot and cold play. I don't want to be lit on fire."

I lose all sense of control and chuckle.

"It's not funny!" she reprimands.

I neutralize my reaction. "Sorry. I will not be setting you on fire. Promise."

"No?"

"No. And I assure you, any pain you feel will result in a high you've never felt before," I claim.

She stares at me.

"What else is on your list, pet?"

"Where do I go for the lab tests?"

"Have you been tested before?" I question.

She nods.

"When?"

She ponders my question a moment and replies, "Maybe two years ago."

"Okay, so you'll need a new test," I claim.

"But I haven't had sex since then," she blurts out.

I gape at her, unable to hide my shock.

Her cheeks burn again, and she asks, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Sorry. Why haven't you had sex?"

She shrugs. "I'm not dating anyone. So where do I get the test?" Her finger starts to move under my hand.

I pick it up and run my thumb over the back of her hand, stating, "You don't have to."

"Why?"

"Your tests were fine two years ago?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Then there's no need to do it."

She peers at me closer.

"What did I say now?" I ask.

"Do you take everyone's word?"