Page 50 of Dmitri

Her eyes narrow. “What do you get out of it?”

“What do you think?”

Daelyn looks away from me and shakes her head. “I honestly have no idea.”

With a gentle nudge of my finger to her cheek, I make her face me again. “I getyou, Firefly. There’s no greater victory prize than that.”

???

After some prodding questions, Daelyn tells me she likes both praise and degradation, and also has a thing for danger. As if I hadn’t already picked up on that.

No extreme pain but crops and floggers are fine as long as it’s not too hard. No golden showers. Yes, to toys. Biting is encouraged. No fire, but she’s open to melting wax.

“What about you?” she asks.

“Nah, this is all about you, Firefly. My needs will be met just by watching you come undone.”

She rolls her eyes like that’s preposterous. “You like pain,” Daelyn says, as if trying to throw it in my face.

“I do.”

“So I can bite, scratch, and whip you?”

“Like I said, tonight is about your pleasure. Not mine.” Goddamn, the thought of her melting hot wax on my balls is really fucking tempting, though. Before I allow myself the fantasy, I pipe up with, “The club is open already, but guests don’t usually arrive until…” I glance at my watch. “Five minutes ago.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to stay here, or move to a private room?”

“Oh, umm.” Daelyn bites her bottom lip. “I think this first time should be private.”

“I agree.” Lacing our fingers together, I guide Daelyn upstairs to a smaller bedroom. “Would you like the door locked? No one will come in if it’s closed, but I can lock it as an extra security measure if that’ll help you relax more.”

“Yes. Lock it.” Her gaze falls to the floor. “Please… Sir.”

I hate being called Sir, but we haven’t discussed honorifics yet, so she doesn’t know that. “I prefer King.”

Surprise flashes in her eyes. It’s okay. I get that a lot. But here’s the thing—I want to be called King because I treat my subs like a fucking queen.

She’ll learn.

“Is there a preference for your honorific?” I ask.

“Anything but babygirl.”

Yeah, she mentioned that the other day. I’m not asking why because it doesn’t matter for our dynamic. “Is Firefly okay?”

I’ve called her that a few times already, and she didn’t seem to mind.

“Yes. That’s fine.”

“Thank you,” I say, cupping her cheek.

“For what?”

“Trusting me. Coming here. Being with me.” There’s a lotto be grateful for.

She pulls back and bristles. “Umm. So, when does the staring contest begin?”

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