Page 48 of On His Terms

“No. It’s whim, and I’m indulging myself. I like to think of you suffering, my pet.”

Did his demands have no end?

“After this experiment, do you still wish to continue forward? Or do you prefer to choose the time and place of your climaxes and set your own schedule without interference?”

As she considered her answer, she looked into his eyes and had a jolting, overwhelming sense of connection.

Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise.

No one else had ever pushed her to this extreme, with such high expectations, but offering much more in return. Because of the way he demolished her defenses, she experienced an intimacy with him unlike anything she’d shared with anyone else.

Without saying another word, he took a sip and waited.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Those were the words I hoped to hear.”

Did this mean he’d shorten the amount of time until she needed to wait before seeing him?

His next words dashed her hopes.

“In that case, two days from now, repeat this process. Record a video and send it to me.”

Her mouth fell open.

“Any questions?”

“No, Sir.” Did he stay up at night thinking up ways to keep her guessing?

“No orgasms. As always, call me tomorrow.” He flashed a charming smile, as if trying to disguise his diabolical manner. “Enjoy the hot tub.”

Her phone screen went blank.

Staring at it, she tipped her head to one side. He’d dropped all of that on her, then ended the call without saying goodbye?

How was she supposed to survive him and his sexy, need-inducing demands?

Chapter Six

“Would you like to come over tomorrow evening?”

Master Alexander’s suggestion slid through Chelsea, igniting her senses and making her heart leap into her throat. Pressing the phone closer to her ear, she strode to her office window.

This was the moment she’d been anticipating, wanting, but afraid wouldn’t happen.

When she’d called him the day after she’d left his house, he’d said they should spend a week apart. Since then, she’d done everything she was supposed to, including sending him the video. She honestly wasn’t sure she’d done anything more difficult.

But his instructions clearly had a purpose, and the embarrassment she experienced now wasn’t as profound as it had been the night they’d met.

“Chelsea?”

“Yes, Sir. I would love to see you.” She probably shouldn’t have admitted that, but her enthusiasm bubbled over.

“Does six o’clock work for you? Or is seven better?”

“Whatever is best for you, Sir.”

“Six. We can spend some time together, then we’ll have dinner.”