Excuse and you know it, Roark.
He shook off that voice.
Grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and the softest cashmere sweater he had, he headed downstairs.
Emma had settled herself on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table, flipping through a magazine, when he walked into the living room. Without a word he tossed the clothes at her and kicked her feet off the table.
“Hey!” she said.
“That’ll be the last ‘hey’ out of your mouth. Respect for me and for my things, Emma.”
“Ok, ok. Geez,” she said. “Dad.”
“Sir, not Dad.”
She looked at him and he held her gaze. He was trying to get her off balance, she knew it.
“Change into those things; they won’t fit, but it’s the best I can do. When you come back, we’ll talk, work out some details. Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said.
“I have a question first,” she began.
When he didn’t react, she added, “Sir.”
“Yes?”
She hesitated. “Um, actually, never mind,” she said. “It can wait.” With that she went quickly down the hall. Stepping into the bathroom, she switched on the light and put her hands on the sink, taking deep, calming breaths. She’d been about to ask him if they’d be having sex. What was she thinking? Sex with Luke Roark? It was something she’d dreamt of and masturbated to for many, many years, but the reality of it still sent her heart racing. She looked at herself in the mirror.
“Oh my god,” she said. Black rimmed her eyes and her hair looked like the morning after a very heavy night of partying. Possibly two. He’d been looking at her like this for the last couple of hours. Turning on the tap, she scrubbed her face until it was clean. Her hair was another story. Without conditioner, she was out of luck there. She stripped off the wrap, her stockings and her shoes and slipped on his shorts. She cinched them as best she could then folded them over twice so they would at least stay up. She then pulled the sweater over her head, inhaling the lingering scent of him as she did. She liked Luke Roark. And it was about more than her intense attraction to him.
It was now time to face him. Collecting her clothes and her courage, she opened the door.
The lights he’d turned on were dimmed and music played in the living room. She recognized the band: Mumford and Sons. It was their first album, Sigh No More, her favorite. Luke sat on the sofa. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear her come inside. She studied him as she tiptoed closer. He turned his head and ran a hand through his thick hair. His eyes looked shadowed, as if he were in a darker place.
“Luke?” she asked, hesitant. For a moment, it was as if he didn’t see her at all.
He blinked, his eyes slowly focusing on her. “Emma,” he said, his gaze traveling the length of her body. “You’re beautiful.”
“Yeah, right. The clothes are great, my hair looks like a bad night out and I’m wearing no makeup.”
“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, sitting back. “Come here,” he said, motioning to the space between his legs. “Kneel.”
That word sent heat straight to her clit and she swallowed. It was starting. Setting her clothes on the edge of the sofa, she moved to stand between his legs. Goose bumps covered her body and her nipples tightened into pebbles as she slowly began her descent. When she set her hands on his knees to steady herself, her heart fell to her stomach. He kept his gaze steady on her wide eyes as she settled on her heels.
“Good girl,” he said, caressing her face. “When I ask you to kneel, you’re to sit on your heels, back straight, hands on your thighs, palms up. Unless I ask you to look at me, you’re to cast your eyes down. If ever you’re not sure what to do, kneel by my feet, do you understand?” he asked.
She nodded, dropping her gaze.
“For now, keep your eyes on me while we discuss the terms of our…relationship. And Emma, I don’t want to repeat this one again. When I ask you a question, you answer with words, not with a nod or a shake of the head. And after we have the following conversation, when we play, you’ll refer to me as Sir or Master. If you don’t use one of those references, you will be punished. Am I crystal clear?”
Punished. She should be terrified, shouldn’t she? “Yes, Sir. I understand.”
He smiled.
“Ok, you know that I don’t care about your contract. Whenever you want out, you just use your safe word and the scene’s over. I can take you home whenever you want me to and that isn’t a punishment. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Yes, Sir.”