Page 102 of At Her Pleasure

His strangled cock revealed itself, pressing against cotton. “Lawrence owes you a beer,” she said mildly. “I think his Mistress is going to use him until dawn.”

“Lucky Lawrence.”

“Would you say that about yourself, if I did the same? No matter what I choose to do to you?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Mistress.”

“I do. But your reasons are suspect, Mick. You lost my trust tonight.”

“Then I’ve put myself in hell, Mistress. Without you. Maybe you’ll give me a chance to find my way back.”

Her eyes rose to hold his. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

What she meant would take this conversation to a different plane. He didn’t want to go there.

“That may be the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.” But he didn’t smile, because it wasn’t a joke.

A long moment passed in silence before she spoke again. “Turn around facing the door, your back to me, and take off everything. I want nothing hidden.”

When he complied, he heard the creak as she left the wooden chair. As she stood behind him, he kept his hands half curled at his sides. A pulsing ache in his chest tried to affect him, deflate him lower down. He wouldn’t let it.

She started to remove the bandages. With the medical tape designed to feel like it was removing skin, she chose both uncomfortable options. Quick rips and slow pulls. He gritted his teeth and held still.

She disposed of the medical waste in a trashcan behind him. He stared at the wall. There were several mirrors in here, but when she’d told him to face the back of the door and its instruments of torture, she’d made sure he couldn’t look for her reflection without turning his head. He knew better than to try that.

Relief pushed the ache back up, away from his cock, as she brushed her fingertips on the top right part of the X. She followed it all the way down. Then did the left side, with a brief pause over the place where his heart was trying to thud through his chest. He spoke between beats.

“A lot of people don’t realize you know how to be in control and out of control at the same time. Do they?”

She kept outlining the cut with her fingertips. That was the hand wearing the claw, so he knew she’d eventually use it. Hoped she would.

“No. Sometimes I’m not sure of it, either. Do you know what stopped me from going deeper with the knife?”

Knowing he’d disappointed, hurt and angered her had been a far worse wound. One that needed the kind of stitches he had no right to ask for. But that was his answer to the question, not hers.

“You would have been okay with that,” she said, answering for him.

“And you deny subs what they want,” he finished.

“Yes. It’s my wants and their needs.”

“What about your needs?”

He sucked in a breath as the claw pressed into the cut. Blood trickled, telling him she’d opened that seam. “My wants and needs don’t have to be separate, Mick. That’s the kind of Mistress I am.”

She put her hand on his arm to turn him around. He lifted a hand to her face, and she caught his wrist in her grip, her claw pressed on the pulsing artery there.

He stilled, staring down at her. Her kissable, bitable mouth, her dark eyes and wild curls framing her face. He could turn this into a primal play fight, here and now. The temptation rose, making his erect cock twitch, and he leaned into her, telegraphing it, even as he kept his arm motionless in her grip.

“No,” she said. “I want something else right now.”

The short battle of wills was mostly on his side, him getting his will to listen to hers. But when he had it contained, she knew. She let him go and walked to the table, propping her hips next to the bubbling tank.

“The sous vide maintains a constant temperature. It’s how it ensures that it doesn’t overcook food while cooking it all the way through.”

“I’m familiar.”

“Have you ever used one?”