Page 21 of For the Night

The words were right there on the tip of my tongue, along with hopes of dates, tons of kink, love, and sailing off into the sunset together. But given her history—and honestly, how many people past their thirties had life experience that shot down romantic optimism?—I held back those words.

I didn’t wanna overwhelm her. At the same time, I wanted her to know my wishes weren’t founded in spur-of-the-moment thoughts or a days-old infatuation.

“I guess I should start by saying there are a handful of Dommes I’ve followed online and at events as a newbie,” I admitted. “I’ve stumbled across your posts and online journaling, and then I’ve attended demos you’ve hosted around the city. And you and Ella went to a few parties around Logan Circle.”

She inclined her head. “I have friends in a more lesbian-oriented community there.”

That made sense.

“Right, so you’re one of those Dommes—admittedly the one I’ve followed the most,” I said. “And, you know…” Satan också. All of a sudden, the courage drained out of me, and I felt exposed in a moment where I had zero confidence about the future. My mouth went dry, and I rubbed the back of my neck. “In the end, I guess I want to turn a for the night into a second and a third and a fourth, but yeah. Yeah.”

Thank fuck, she took pity on my fumbling, and she gathered one of my hands in both of hers. Then she surprised me by kissing my knuckles, causing me to stand ramrod straight and suck in a breath.

Good development or bad? Was she gonna let me down easy again or?—

“Just a few hours ago, I would’ve… Well, I said what I said to you.” She lowered my hand to the counter again but kept it in her grasp. “I’m not going to say it again, partly because I can’t do it as confidently. Just…please don’t get your hopes up with me, pet. It has absolutely nothing to do with you—in fact, you’re kind of testing my resolve…”

She called me pet.

I’m testing her resolve.

I wasn’t gonna push. I just couldn’t back away either. I stood there, verbally frozen—if that was a thing—but I inched forward a little. I couldn’t help it. It was the strangest sensation to be warned and complimented at the same time. I couldn’t speak, and yet I leaned forward as if she beckoned me. Until our stances were mirrored once more and mere inches separated us. Goddamn the bartop—it was in the way.

Did she have to be so damn beautiful? She radiated warmth and softness, all while her edge never disappeared out of sight.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

But neither of us moved, and a beat later, I felt the heat crackling. It was ignited by a single flash of desire in her eyes, which sent a blaze of fire through me. Fuck me, but she was something else. What would it be like to follow her? To be owned by her? To serve her, to kiss every freckle, to…

She broke the spell with a sigh, but rather than averting her gaze and putting distance between us, she leaned forward and gently knocked her forehead to mine. Like a silent, “What am I gonna do with you?”

I swallowed dryly. Maybe the spell wasn’t broken after all, ’cause I felt feverish. Need imploded within me, and I clenched my thighs together.

She closed her eyes, and she swallowed too. In the deafening silence of the empty club, it was so easy to hear the slightest sound. And then, maybe I chipped away at her resolve some more, because she closed the last distance and pressed her lips to mine, followed by her fingers shaping themselves to my jaw.

So this is how I die.

All my thoughts sank into a pool of hot water, where they became background noise to the most epic win I’d had in a long time. Mistress Penelope was kissing me. Holy fuck, she was kissing me. I kissed her back tentatively, brushing my lips against hers as she did with mine. Just for a few seconds, before she deepened the kiss. Her soft lips, her soft tongue, the taste of gin and lemon, and her manicured nails gently pressing into my jaw nearly short-circuited my brain.

I shivered violently and completely surrendered. As if I’d ever put up a fight…

She took her time and wouldn’t let me get ahead of myself. Whenever I tried to kiss her a little harder or deeper, she tightened her grip on my jaw or nipped at my bottom lip.

“Easy, girl,” she whispered.

But I’m needy-wanty!

“Sorry,” I whispered back instead.

That made her smile, and she gave me a hungry kiss that I felt fucking everywhere. I had to cross my damn legs to get some friction, and goose bumps appeared across my arms.

With a sensual twist of her tongue around mine, she had me in the palm of her hand.

My hands—I didn’t know what the fuck to do with my hands, but then it didn’t matter, because she broke away and told me to stay put. I blinked, in a daze, and watched as she rounded the bar. Yes, yes, yes, yes. She came over to me, the determination and lust so clear in her eyes, and she got her hands on me again. She pressed me up against the bar, cupped my face in her hands, and kissed me hard and deep.

I drew a shaky breath and threw my arms around her neck, to which she let hers drop to my hips.

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