Page 34 of Over the Line

After all, she wasn’t looking for anything other than a thrilling ride, and he was a Dom—a damn good one. No doubt subs lined up for his attentions.

“No woman, except my sister, has been in this house since my ex walked out.” He brushed his thumb pad across her lips. “Would you like me to run you a bath or start the shower?”

She frowned at him. “Doms aren’t supposed to do that kind of thing.”

“Being a Dominant doesn’t mean you’re an asshole.”

In her experience, it sure as hell had.

“Every person in a D/s dynamic gets to define their own relationship. I don’t anticipate you’d ever stop being who you are. Nor would I want you to. Similarly, I demand respect, courtesy, and communication. And I’ll give you all of that in return.”

When she’d hooked up with Lewis, she’d been young and naive. In the beginning, she’d thought the lifestyle was about play parties, being tied up, getting her kink on.

But once his collar had been locked around her neck, everything had gone horribly wrong.

Master Michael was a rugged individual with his own ideas, something she might have once been interested in, but that now terrified her.

She’d never be a twenty-four seven sub again.

“Bath? Shower? Or I can use the back scrubber as a paddle.”

The long piece of wood hung from a peg in the wall. The implement looked like an oversize hairbrush, and it had definite potential for a harsh spanking.

Still, she didn’t move.

“Right, then,” he said.

Her mouth fell open as he grabbed the scrubber.

“Bend over the bathtub.”

“Are you serious?”

He smacked the back end of it against his left palm, making her jump.

“Bend over the bathtub.”

“My butt is already sore, Sir.”

“You will regret making me repeat myself.”

She debated using a safe word, but she wanted the experience. There was no doubt he’d seen that in her eyes.

Assailed by nerves, she slowly moved into place, her fingers forming a death grip on the tub’s edge.

“Wait.”

“Sir?” She pushed herself upright and turned to face him.

His eyes had a gleam she didn’t recognize. A part of her was frightened. A bigger part of her made her stand her ground.

“Stand up straight and spread your legs.” He moved his hand much lower on the handle and turned over the scrubber so the bristles pointed up.

“Oh, no. No way.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not, Sir.”

“Tur-tle?” He broke the word into two syllables—on purpose, she was sure, returning her earlier goading. “Say it.”

“No.”