Finding Master Right(8)

She gulped. Trapped.

“Bend over the bed, little slave.”

The command in his voice made it hard not to comply. Shaking, she turned around and gazed down at the pristine white bedcovering. She could feel him move in behind her. His body brushed against her back, setting every nerve on fire. Chills raced up her spine. Her knees felt like buckling, but she stayed standing, hesitant to make herself more vulnerable to this stranger.

He shoved her, and she fell forward, landing on her stomach over the bed. Then she was naked. There was something wrong here.

She looked over her shoulder. He lifted his hand, showing her a big, peeled ginger root. His grin was unnerving.

Then she was in his head, watching her from his point of view. Her eyes went wide with fear. A whimper escaped her. She felt the adrenaline shoot through his veins.

He let out a deep, sinister laugh, and she hid her face in the covers. Fear warred with excitement. As creepy as it seemed, she wanted this.

Holding her down with his giant palm on her back, he placed the ginger root at her back entrance. A scream tore from her lips.

Kate woke with a start. Panting, she sat up and surveyed the room in a panic. What the fuck? Light blue walls, a familiar dresser across from the bed, and a flowered quilt covering her legs calmed her pounding heart. She was home. No dungeon, no evil laughter, and no figging.

“Fuck,” she mumbled. Her breathing slowed. She checked the clock beside her bed. Five o’clock in the evening. Only an hour ago she’d laid down for a nap, trying to get rid of a migraine. She must’ve really needed it.

She took in other details now that she’d calmed down. Daylight was fading. Her stomach was empty and starting to growl. But more disturbing was the stirring the dream had left between her legs. It’d been a long time since she’d used her vibe. Her panties were wet and her clit throbbed. From the figging dream?

Ugh. There was something wrong with her. She groaned. Banner would be there in half an hour, and she still needed to get dressed and should probably shower this dirty feeling away. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to soothe herself. It only made it worse.

With a sigh, she checked the clock again. If she used her fingers, instead of searching for the vibrator, she could probably go pretty quickly.

She snaked her hand down her belly then underneath her cotton panties. For her, orgasms were more about the mind than anything physical, and Banner had given her imagination plenty of fodder.

She closed her eyes as she parted her lower lips and found her clit. A faceless man in a suit beckoned her from a chair. She glided to him, wearing a school-girl uniform, then stopped between his open legs.

“Kneel,” he commanded.

She sunk to her knees. The faceless man was replaced with Banner. His stern eyes stared her down until she felt like a little girl, helpless, willing to do anything to please her Master.

A moan slipped free from her lips as she swirled her finger into her wetness, and then circled her clit.

The man—no, Banner—grabbed a handful of her hair and tilted her head back. “What do you have to say for yourself, slave?”

It didn’t take her long to mutter the words, not when he was like this. She was already in for a heavy punishment. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

His sensual lips curved up on one side. “You will be.”

Heat rushed to her pussy, making the throb unbearable. “Come on,” she mumbled, running her fingers over her clit faster and faster. The time crunch only made her want it more.

Her fingers were drenched, making her slip easily toward her entrance. She squeezed her eyes shut then fast-forwarded her fantasy to what usually got her off. Banner pulled her over his lap. On the floor, right in her line of vision, was a steel butt plug.

Pleasure rose up from her pussy as she slipped two fingers inside. She was so close. Just a little more. She let her thumb stimulate her clit again. In her mind, Banner picked up the butt plug while he lectured her about her bad behavior.

“Fuck,” she muttered. She was on the edge of an intense orgasm, about to tumble over. Her fingers wriggled in toward her g-spot and—

A loud knock sounded at the door.

She froze.

“Kate?” Banner’s voice came from the other side.

Ugh! She glanced at the clock. Of course he’d be early!

Panicked, she shot out of bed, wet and sweaty. “Um. I’ll be right there!”

In the bathroom, she scrubbed her hands, then ran back to her bedroom to throw on the first pair of pants she saw. She pulled her hair back in a messy bun before she flew to the door.

After a deep breath, she opened it and plastered on a fake smile. “Hi!”

Oh crap. He was wearing work clothes. A white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showed off his tattooed arms. God! Was he trying to make her come in her panties?

His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. Her face felt flushed but that shouldn’t have given anything away. She could’ve been working out, for all he knew. She peered down at her clothing for the first time since napping an hour ago. Jeans and a black tank top. Her nipples poked out like beacons of her guilt.

Shit! She’d forgotten a bra.

“Um.” She covered her breasts with her arms, blushing even more. “Come on in. I’m just gonna grab a sweatshirt.”

“Okay,” he said suspiciously, then stepped into the living room of her rented condo.

She spun and made a hasty retreat into her attached bedroom. “Just make yourself comfortable,” she yelled over her shoulder.

In her bedroom, she grabbed her bra from the dresser and put it on, and then threw on a black camisole from her closet as she walked back to the living room. She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she walked by. Bright red face, a sheen of sweat, and rumpled clothing. She looked as though she’d just been doing exactly what she had been—masturbating while fantasizing about him.

“Everything okay?” he asked from the couch. “You seem a bit . . . frazzled.”

“It’s fine.” Crap. She couldn’t even look at him without picturing herself over his lap. This would never work. He was supposed to be helping her find out what she wanted, not stuffing a butt plug in her while she orgasmed. “It was a long day,” she said with a nervous laugh.

He nodded slowly, brow creased. “I’m sorry.” Patting the couch, he beckoned her. “I’ve been told I give a pretty decent neck massage.”

Nooo. Touching was bad. Very bad. How could she tell him she’d left herself needy right before he came in, and that now she was one small thrust from orgasming? “I’ll be fine. Drink?”

“Water, please.”

Nodding, she rushed to the kitchen. Two cold waters. Would he think it was strange if she dumped hers on her head? She gulped down half a glass over the sink and took a few calming breaths before returning with his.

He took the glass with a smile. “Sit down. You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine.” Even so, she sat in the recliner across from him.

With an eye roll, he leaned back. “How are you supposed to go over a checklist from there? Come on. I don’t bite.” With a smirk, he added, “Without consent.”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced. Would he be able to smell how horny she was?

Seeming pleased, he brandished a piece of paper. “I’ll skip over the extreme ones so I don’t shock you too much.”

She scowled. He didn’t need to protect her virtue. “You don’t have to baby me. I’m not completely clueless, you know.”

He arched a brow. “So your text about figging was a joke?”

“Shut up.”

He sipped at his water, his expression unreadable. “Be glad you’re not mine.”

“Why?” she challenged. “Slaves don’t talk like that?”

“Depends on the Master. But mine wouldn’t.”

For some reason, her curiosity piqued. “You’re a strict Master?” Shit—had that sounded too interested?

Shut up. Just stop talking now. She didn’t need any more wank fodder. And anyway, she knew most Dominants didn’t tolerate mouthiness—she’d seen it enough in Chris.

He shrugged. “Some things are negotiable, but I doubt I’d be okay with my slave telling me to shut up.”

“Even if it was just teasing?”

“It’s about respect. I don’t think there’s any way to make shut up respectful.”

She gave him a sidelong look. “Sure there is.”

He leaned toward her, seeming intrigued by her challenge. “Oh really?”

“Shut up, Sir.” She raised her chin, more than half wishing he’d paddle her ass. “See?”

“Brat,” he mumbled, but there was laughter in his eyes. “If anyone needed a spanking, it’d be you.”

Instinctively, she scooted a few inches away.

His lips curved in amusement. “Scared?”

“No.” Liar. “You wouldn’t do it without permission.” It was almost a question. Did she want him to? Fuck. Yes. No. Of course not!

“No. Lucky for you, I wouldn’t.”

This was coming awfully close to her fantasy. A picture flashed in her mind—Banner rolling his sleeves up as she leaned over his knee, her knowing what was coming but wanting it anyway.

She gave her head a shake and cleared her throat. “Um. The list?”

He stared at her a moment longer, looking as lustful as she felt. Did he sense a connection too? Or maybe it was all in her mind. A result of the dream, or her lack of vibe action, or the earlier migraine. Any of those excuses would do.