But he’s not walking through her front door right now—he’s walking through mine.
And he has no idea what he’s in for.
The electricity between us is palpable. And my emotions are warring between heady lust and brutal jealousy. I want to hurt him and fuck his brains out at the same time. I have every intention of making this both bliss and agony.
Once we’re inside, he reaches for me, but I place a firm hand on his chest, stopping him. I feel his heart racing under my palm.
“Go up to my bedroom and wait for me in position. I want you naked by the time I come up there.”
There's a subtle twitch in his lips as he fights the urge to smile. Instead, he tilts his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
I watch from the foyer as he jogs excitedly up the stairs, and I shove away that stupid tender feeling that creeps up whenever I’m around him. Once he’s gone, I go into the bathroom and do some quick freshening up. Really, I just want to give him enough time to get in position. For some reason, it just feels easier to get into the Domme mindset when he’s already submissive. If we had fumbled up the stairs in the same frenzy we felt at the party, I’m afraid I would have never gained control.
As I stand in front of the mirror, I look at myself for a long moment. Pushing my shoulders back and licking my lips, I try to make myself look the way I feel on the inside—sexual, confident, seductive.
I pull my blouse over my head and unfasten my skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath, I’m wearing a white padded bra that shows a bit of cleavage and a matching white thong. I desperately need to buy some better lingerie.
After giving myself a quick I can do this pep talk, I head upstairs. What I find as I turn the corner into my bedroom has me feeling weak in the knees.
Beau, in all his tan, muscled beauty, is kneeling on the carpet in my bedroom, naked from head to toe, his cock hanging hard and heavy against his thigh. His head is bowed, letting a wisp of brown hair fall over his eyes as he stares obediently at the floor.
My mouth goes dry and my heartbeat picks up speed, hammering in my chest. I pause as I realize the possibilities that are within my grasp at this very moment. He’s giving himself to me. To use and do whatever I want with his body.
Do I deserve this?
Am I good enough for him?
I catch a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror across the room, and I see the same self-deprecating, fearful, shy woman I just saw downstairs and for all of my life.
But that’s not who I am. That’s just a role I play, a form I’ve fit myself into.
I am the woman in the masquerade mask that night at the club, about to meet a total stranger.
I’m the woman Beau wants. I own a goddamn sex club, for fuck’s sake.
I am his Domme.
With my eyes on the mirror, I stand taller and take a deep breath. Then, I cross the room, stroking his head as I pass him, headed toward the dresser, where I open the top drawer to find a silk scarf. I toss it on the bed before sitting on the edge and calling to him.
“Crawl to me.”
Without looking up, he does, a little faster than last time and clearly eager for what’s to come.
When he kneels between my legs, I lift my foot and drag the top slowly across his abdomen, over every hard ridge of muscle, before resting it on his shoulder. My leg falls open, and he tries to keep his eyes down but quickly loses the fight as he drags them up. With his gaze right at the level of my open thighs, he stares longingly at the spot between my legs.
“Seeing you on the floor like that does things to me,” I tell him, and he glances up to my face. There is a wanton need in his eyes and I feel it too. Every bit of it. And I want to prolong this, tease him with it, make it last forever until it’s so explosive, it takes us both out.