Page 32 of At Her Will

His expression relaxed again, but his eyes still held a measured look. “You asked me if I’d been married,” he said. “Have you?”

“Yes. We divorced some years ago. He’s not part of my life, and we didn’t have any children.”

“Was he…a submissive?”

“No,” she said shortly. “We never got there together. Not in any lasting or real way. We were just young, and Donovan was the right choice for my family, but not for me. I confused the two, because I loved my family and wanted to honor their wishes for me. I didn’t realize then that to truly honor my family, I had to know and be true to myself, and love and respect them from that place of strength.”

She realized her hands on the desk had tightened into a knot, matching what was in her stomach. “I’d rather talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He was studying her in that penetrating way he had, but it didn’t feel like an invasion, someone outside her door she didn’t want there. More like he was the house itself, who understood what kind of haven she needed from what had happened outside that sanctuary. “But I sorry it didn’t work out. It’s hard, for love to end that way.”

“Yes. Rev…really. Ask me something else.”

He set aside his cleaning tools and came to her, dropping to a knee and putting his hand on the arm of the chair. A few seconds of silence ensued between them, him looking at her, eye to eye. “I here for you, Mistress. Will you tell me something you imagining doing to me, from that world you know?”

The pain around her heart loosened, a sensual warmth replacing it. “The list is long, Rev.”

Sparks of light flickered in his eyes. “One thing, then?”

Rising, making sure her hip and thigh brushed his shoulder, her hand following that track, she moved back to the board. Aware of him turning to watch her, she lifted the eraser.

She patted it across the surface, creating layered rectangles of chalk. Then she picked up a piece of chalk and printed words in block lettering.

I dreem of kneeling. For Her.

Beneath that, she wrote in her own flowing cursive.

I dream of You kneeling.

With a quiet rap, she dropped the chalk in the tray and turned. “Come here, Rev.”

She loved these moments, when she issued a command, and a man responded to it, a million reactions in his muscles, in his expression, behind his eyes. That vitality reached out and wrapped her up, so that when she closed her hand over Rev’s wrist, the connection felt blessed by whatever power was behind it, and meant to be, this incredible intimacy. Waves of power shifted between them, carried them.

Lifting his palm to the dusted area, she had him press it there. She kept her hand on his forearm.

“I imagine having you stripped, Rev,” she murmured. “Both hands on the board like this. I’ll pick up that wooden pointer,” she nodded at the cane-like item, “and mark your beautiful ass and thighs. Not enough to cause real pain. Just enough to let you know I like punishing you.”

“Why?”

“Because you let me. Because you want me to.”

His reactions confirmed it. Shortened breath, pupils getting darker and larger, body more tense, closer to her, the energy drawing them together.

“When I tell you that you can remove your hands, your prints will remain on the board, evidence of what I did to you there.” Her gaze shifted. “I might use the eraser on your backside, because I’ll like seeing the chalk mark there, too. When I’m done, I’ll have you stay naked while you write these two lines, over and over, until the board is covered.”

He lifted his other hand and touched her cursive. “Do you really dream of that?”

From the moment I met you. From the moment I felt your hands on me.

But she only said, “Yes.”

Then, lightening the mood, she added, “School scenes are a role-playing favorite in BDSM. Plenty of useful props.”

He looked amused, though his gaze returned to the board. “Why did you capitalizeHerandYouthat way?”

She hadn’t intended to introduce the subject now, worried it could drive a wedge between them before they knew one another well enough to navigate those waters. But her subconscious had had other ideas, and it was right. They’d swim together, or not.

“Because in Tantric terms, we’re reaching out to the divine in ourselves. Shiva to Shakti. Shakti to Shiva. For my faith, Wicca, it’s Lord to Lady, Lady to Lord.”

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