The Dom with the Dragon Tattoo (Masters of Submission #5)(19)
She sighed. “Maybe, who knows. Tell me some more about yourself, Ty.”
“Okay, honey.” He pulled her closer. “Comfortable?”
“You bet.”
“Then I’ll begin. After leaving Harvard, I took a year off to explore Southeast Asia with a good friend of mine. Brad Miller and I wanted to discover and engage with the real world. Not the world you see depicted in some glossy travel brochure but the real world with real people. We traveled through Indonesia, taking in Borneo and Celebes before working our passage to Burma on a rusty fishing frigate, crewed by what seemed to be a bunch of cutthroat pirates. On one memorable expedition we fought our way through the impenetrable Burmese jungle before crossing the border into Thailand. That’s where I had the dragon tattoo done. Not in some fancy regulated tattoo parlor, you understand, but done by some respected village elder deep in the mountains.” He laughed, clearly recalling the memory. “To say it was painful would be an understatement, and it sure wouldn’t pass the health and safety regs we have today.”
“Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“Sure was, but I was young and crazy then. I’ve got no regrets.”
“I like the tattoo anyway. It’s sexy.”
“The following month, we found ourselves in Bangkok, and after a night of heavy drinking, Brad and I somehow ended up in a fetish club. What I saw there really opened my eyes, and it introduced me to the scene. From that day to this, I’ve never looked back.”
“Do your other friends Rob and Samantha know?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m proud of what I do, but just like you, I like to keep my sexual preferences private.”
“A wise decision.”
“People get the wrong impression. They think you’re some kind of out-of-control pervert when in fact, as a Dom, you’re a pervert who’s very much in control.”
Rebecca laughed at his sense of humor.
He turned on his side and looked at her, a satisfied smile on his face as his fingers casually swept across her cheek. “Enough of your questions, now it’s my turn. Why were you at Club Submission the night of the masquerade party? Were you looking for a new Master?”
“Master?” His line of questioning surprised Rebecca. “What makes you think I’m in need of a Master? What makes you think I’ve ever had one?”
“Todd, the barman at the club. The guy behind the bar is always an invaluable source of information. He told me you were a sub who’d finished with her Master. So I naturally assumed—”
“Huh, Todd is a great guy and makes a mean cocktail, but perhaps he should keep his opinions to himself. However, on this occasion he was right. I did have a Master. His name was Mitch Smith. He was the only one I’ve ever had. About five years ago, Carol, a good friend of mine, and a natural sub with a very handsome Dom of her own, suggested I experience the scene at Club Submission. She’d been encouraging me to go for years, and I finally relented. One day I thought, what the hell, why not? I was twenty-eight years old and had only ever enjoyed vanilla relationships up to that point. Carol would often laugh and say, ‘There’s a reluctant subbie inside you, Becky, just waiting to get out and smell the coffee. Go for it, girl.’”
“Hmm, I’m intrigued. Go on.”
“I met Mitch the very first night I visited the club with Carol, and I was immediately flattered by his charm and the amount of attention he paid me. Although I really liked him, it took me a long time to trust him enough to become his sub.” She smiled at Tyler. “Eventually, he persuaded me that he wasn’t some out-of-control pervert, just a pervert who liked to be very much in control.”
Tyler laughed at her use of his words then smoothed a hand down her cheek, before drifting a thumb across her parted lips. He dipped his head and kissed her with such passion, she knew he wanted to f*ck her again. As their kiss deepened, his fingers caressed her breasts, massaging her nipples into hardened peaks.
He whispered in her ear, “How long did the relationship last?” Tyler pushed her breasts together then trailed his tongue between her aroused nipples. A delicate thread of his saliva briefly flowed across them, before magically disappearing.
“Almost five years.”
“That long, huh?” His tongue then circled her areola, sending a sexual signal from her nipples directly to her clit. She saw her aroused tits glistening in the soft light as her chest rose and fell in rhythm with her breathing.
“Yes. We had some good times together.”
“So why the split?”
Her body tightened at his question. The one question she didn’t want to answer. She tried to make light of it, but she knew she didn’t do a convincing job. “Oh, you know. It was just one of those things. We saw life differently.”
“Go on,” he softly urged, drifting a finger inside her still-aroused *.
“There’s nothing more to tell.” Her voice cracked slightly and her body trembled as his moistened finger circled her clit. It felt so good, and her back arched involuntarily.
Tyler looked straight into her eyes, and she knew he understood her far better than she’d imagined. “I sense there’s more, but you don’t want to tell me right now. That’s fine, honey, you’ll tell me when you’re good and ready.”