The Dom with the Dragon Tattoo(22)

“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 fuck 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 pussy.

“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.”

Rebecca didn’t want to tell him that Mitch had unceremoniously dumped her because she couldn’t have kids. Her childhood leukemia had seen to that, but she’d always naively hoped that some sort of miracle would happen and she’d one day be able to conceive. How ridiculous was that? Her eggs had been irreparably damaged by the intensive chemotherapy when she was just ten years old. She’d been totally honest with him. Early on in their relationship, she’d told Mitch the truth. He’d been just fine about it, supportive even, but as time went on, she became increasingly aware he wanted children of his own, and his demeanor slowly became more dissatisfied and moody, until he eventually dropped the bombshell five years into their relationship. Bastard.