"Promises, promises," she retorted.
He repositioned himself so he could slip back inside her. Consumed by heat and lust, he rocked his pelvis. His engorged cock throbbed with demand. He thrust and she gasped, urging him on.
This woman matched his sexual desire and clouded his brain. Nothing with her went as he thought it would. Possession was the only thing on his mind.
She milked the ejaculate from his cock in less time than it had taken him to come as a teenager.
Replete, breathless, he eased out of her then turned her to face him. He feathered back hair from her face. Then he did something that would have been uncharacteristic with any other submissive. He kissed her. The gentle brush was insufficient. Holding her imprisoned, he licked across her lower lip then said, "Open for me."
She was softness and surrender as she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He tasted the white wine. With his mouth and hands on her, he tried to convey the feelings he couldn't otherwise express. She was different from any woman he'd ever had. She challenged him, she pissed him off. And he would claim her.
She met his tongue parry for parry. Then she deepened the kiss, driving into his mouth. While he'd intended to be the one to send a message, she was the one who succeeded. She'd submit to him because she chose to, and never because he demanded it.
That made him respect her even more.
Maggie was so right for him.
With great reluctance, knowing they both needed to breathe and he had to discard the condom, he dragged himself away from her.
"Well, wow, Mr Tomlinson."
"I couldn't have said it better myself." He grabbed up his pants and said, "Be right with you."
When he returned, she had settled herself on the stool again. Her shoulders were back, giving him a beautiful view of her breasts and erect nipples. Her hair flowed over her shoulders and she held a wineglass, appearing at ease.
"Sex and a submissive mindset seem to agree with you."
She lowered her gaze to the countertop.
"Don't be ashamed of that. It pleases me more than you know." He topped off her glass.
"I could get accustomed to being spoilt like this."
"So you should. I suspect you've been solving the world's problems for a few years."
"My own, at least. My dad passed when I was young."
"And you took care of yourself." It wasn't a question. He'd seen the way she interacted with Gloria. The other woman was brilliant in her way, but he suspected she'd been hands-off as a parent. In fact, Maggie seemed more nurturing than her mother was.
"It wasn't all bad," Maggie said. "I learnt how to be independent and think for myself."
He prepared the salad then tossed the steaks on the grill to a rewarding hiss and sizzle.
"Can I help set the table?" she asked when he came back inside.
"Plates are there." He pointed to a cupboard. "Silverware is over there. Placemats and napkins are in that drawer."
"Fancy."
"We'll be dining al fresco."
She opened her mouth.
"Save your breath for an argument you can win," he urged. "The weather is beautiful and the deck is private. No one will see you."
She closed her mouth again. Mutely she worked around him, gathering items and making a few trips outside.
"If you weren't so stubborn, we could enjoy working together," he said.
"You're the one who makes the rules wherever we are, Mr Tomlinson."
"You could be a bit more agreeable when you follow them."
"Am I the only one who has to bend, Sir?" she asked as she walked past him.
The words walloped him. No doubt he liked to have things his way, always had. But, in addition to his other faults, was he that inflexible?
He grabbed a platter for the steaks then went outside. A water glass sat on the top of the table, filled with flowers from his garden. In that moment he realised how sterile his home was. Since Sandy had insisted everything in their old house have sentimental meaning, he'd let her keep all of it. When he'd bought this house, he'd hired a designer to furnish it. The only thing he'd had any input on had been the bed. He missed the touches a woman could provide. "Table looks great. Thank you for the help," he said.
She sipped from her glass.
"How do you want your steak?"
"Medium-rare. Unless it's already too late?"
"Should be perfect." He served them both, and it seemed she relaxed-he liked the transformation.
"Delicious," she told him after taking a bite. "Like you said, I need my strength."
"You have no idea."
The more comfortable she became, the sexier her movements were. Though he'd just fucked her, he couldn't wait to have her again.
"You know, Maggie, your slow word is for use any time."
"Mr Tomlinson?" she asked, putting down her utensils.
"Inside, when you asked if you were the only one who has to bend … I'm not sure if you were trying to express your displeasure at me telling you that we were going to eat outside, or whether you meant something more serious by it that you need to discuss. I understand you think I'm being somewhat high-handed, and the truth is, you're right."
"Well then," she said. "That settles that."
"I'm a Dom, Maggie. You're a sub."
"So you know what's best for me?"
"Maybe not," he admitted. "But I do know I love looking at you. I spent far too much time this morning picturing your naked body in the sunshine."
"Damn it, Mr Tomlinson."
"It's not just about bending you to my will-"
"Though that's an added bonus," she interrupted.
"Agreed. But it's about appreciating you and your willingness to do things to please me." He gave her a chance to respond. "Speechless?" he asked into the silence.
"I'm not very good at putting your needs first, I suppose."
"Hence the constant battle. At work, Maggie, my track record shows I do know what's best for the bottom line. Even there, I don't act without consulting you. I wonder if you're fighting me for the sake of fighting me, for what you feel is your independence. We've proved time and again that we work well together." He paused. "When you let us."
She sat back.
"Tell me, Maggie, when have I demanded something irrational? You have to admit the company is better for your involvement."
"The company, yes."
"And how have I stifled your earning potential or creativity or authority?"
"You haven't." She reached for her empty wineglass and rolled the stem between her palms. "Having you in charge has been an adjustment."
"You were under no duress when you came here," he reminded her.
"I think … " She stared into her glass for at least thirty seconds before looking up at him with her guileless brown eyes. "To you, it's not just about the spanking and getting me off, is it?"
"Not even close," he said, voice flat. "I will do everything in my power to please you and give you multiple orgasms, but I expect reciprocity. I don't mean in terms of sex, I mean respect." Though he'd made an attempt to be flexible, he realised he'd again sounded dictatorial. "Look, Maggie, I'm screwing this up."
"No. You're not. I get it. You're right. I have been accusing you of being an ogre, and I've been worse. You're right that we collaborate well. And it's unfair of me to be compliant when we're being sexual but then refuse to cooperate in other ways." She leant forwards. "I apologise, Mr Tomlinson."
"I'll bend, Maggie. Or at least I'll try. Use a slow word if I don't. Communicate with me. I need you to meet me halfway. Don't make me guess what's wrong when you have an issue with something I've requested."
"That's a tall order, Sir."
"You told me earlier you've been on your own for years. You can do this."
She sighed. "You're right, Mr Tomlinson."
They cleared the table together. She loaded the dishwasher while he put away the leftover salad.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her afterwards.
"A bit uncertain." She wrapped her arms around her middle. "We scened, fucked, ate."
"Are you afraid I'll make you snuggle up and watch racing or something like that on television?"
She laughed.
"I've got plenty more in store for you. You haven't seen the basement yet."
Her eyes widened.
"Open that door," he told her. "And go on down. I'll join you in a minute." He grabbed a couple of bottles of water, wanting her to have time to explore the area on her own.