Page 20 of For the Sub

Then he turned her to face him.

They stood mere inches apart, naked, and she took in his scent, of mountain spice and dominant determination.

Though he’d orgasmed, the size of his cock was still ultra-impressive.

Every part of her responded to him, and she yearned for their connection to continue.

Brandy squeezed her eyes shut.

She was a professional sub who played with Doms all the time.

This was a scene, a way for her to express her gratitude for his protectiveness. Wishing for anything more was a ridiculous, fantastical idea.

Since she was slightly unsteady, she remained where she was even after he released her.

Once she’d regained her composure, she brushed back her hair and turned to him. “Thank you for the scene, Sir.”

His brow was furrowed.

Earlier, she’d thought his eyes had looked haunted. Now she was certain of it. The tiny lines beside them seemed to be grooved deeper than ever.

She ached to reach for him.

Instead, drawing professionalism around her, she offered a wan smile and pretended nonchalance as she moved toward her discarded clothing.

Brandy expected Master Niles to dress and leave the room, but he scooped up her bra and held it.

“Let me help you.”

Less than two feet from where he stood, she froze in place. “That’s really not necessary, Sir.” In fact, she’d rather be alone to gather her thoughts and recover her equilibrium while putting emotional distance between them. “I’m happy to clean up the room while you re-join the party.”

“You misunderstand. That wasn’t a request.”

“I…” With him, she was navigating uncharted ground.

Realizing capitulation might get her out of the room faster, she nodded. “Anything you say, Master Niles.”

She accepted the bra.

Aware of him watching her, she slipped it on and fastened the clasp behind her. Then he adjusted the lacy cups so that they cradled her breasts.

Next he offered her the dress. Once she had it over her head, he smoothed it into place.

He finger-combed her hair, not that anything short of a brush and curling iron could tame the wildness of her tresses.

“One day, I’d like to use your hair in a bondage scene.”

One day? He was talking about a shared future, and her heart leaped in excited response.

Warning herself that he was likely thinking out loud rather than being serious, she responded in a lighthearted manner. “I’d like that, Sir.”

Kneeling in front of her, he helped her into the heels, and she placed a hand on his shoulder to balance herself.

His attentions were kind, bordering on tender, and a lonely, empty part of her heart savored them.

And that was dangerous, leaving her vulnerable.

What am I thinking?

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