Page 39 of Dash

Admittedly, he’d been curious what she’d wear with an hour to prepare for their first scene together. He believed the outfit women chose for the first one-on-one meet up was their way of setting the tone for what they expected of the relationship. It was why he didn’t make demands.

He’d worn his typical attire: casual jeans, boots, and a concert t-shirt. Breaking Benjamin with a Celtic knot. Some of his friends in the Montana scene went all out and wore suits for scenes. It was their thing. Others liked to wear leather or kilts. Dash wore leather when he rode. It got hot. He wanted freedom to move. So, he dressed casually to play.

Stopping a few inches from Gingersnap, he did not hide that he took in every inch of her as his gaze went from the top of her auburn hair down to the tip of her painted toes. She’d left her hair loose with soft curls. It fell just past her shoulders and begged him to run his fingers through it. It looked silky and soft. She’d applied light makeup that enhanced her natural features without going over the top into whorish.

When she’d gone to the play party, she’d worn a naughty librarian look, or maybe it was supposed to be the secretary thing, like that movie. Either way, it was the type of vibe that had reminded him of a desk, and had made him think of bending her over for a spanking. Tonight, she’d opted for a more casual look, and pulled it off just as spectacularly.

The fabric of the tank top was flimsy and made the neon pink bra beneath it visible. The bottom of the shirt had either been ripped or cut, making the edge curl, exposing her midriff. The lace of her matching panties peeked from the waistband of her plaid boxer shorts. Sure, she wouldn’t go out looking like that, but she looked smoking hot to him. The best part, and it wasn’t even his thing. She was barefoot. It spoke to a comfort level he wanted for her, especially in a first scene.

“You going to invite me in?” He shifted the bag on his shoulder, fighting the eagerness to reach into it for anything to get the scene started. They still had to negotiate terms. No matter how badly he wanted to play, he wouldn’t start something without knowing the limits and ground rules.

Stepping aside, she waved a hand. “Where are my manners?”

“Don’t worry.” He smirked, walking past her into the primary room of her apartment. “I’ll remind you of them.” There it was. That blush that he loved seeing on the cheeks of women.

It was a small apartment. A living room with a couch, TV, and a large ottoman serving as a coffee table. A countertop eating area was between the living space and the kitchenette. Then the hallway for what he assumed was the bedroom and the bathroom. They wouldn’t have much space, but he could make it work.

Putting his bag down, he sat on the couch. “Sit.” He patted the cushion beside him. “We have to negotiate.”

Tucking hair behind her ear, he didn’t miss the frown as she dipped her chin and did as he instructed.

“I know, it sort of ruins the vibe a bit, but it’s for the best.” He crooked a finger under her chin and gently urged her to meet his eyes.

“I know.” She sighed as her gaze met his.

“Straight up. I don’t fuck on first play dates,” he said as he sat back, getting comfortable and giving her space. “I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself, but you don’t have to worry about my cock going in your vag. It’s not the point of the scene. We’re learning one another, so that’s the first thing I want you to know.” He paused to let it sink in before he progressed. “What limits do you want?”

Her mouth hung ajar. Obviously, he caught her off guard, and he fought the smug grin. Every woman he played with had the same reaction. They all expected sex the first time they played.

As backed up as he’d been, and needing to fucking shoot his load, he’d gotten head from a club whore before he got there. This night was far too important to go in distracted. So, Basketball Tits had been the lucky girl to swallow his swimmers.

He could get off whenever he wanted. Kink, for him, wasn’t about orgasms. When he played, there was a completely different sense of satisfaction. The release at the end of a scene was more of a head space than a physical release. Letting his play partners know where he stood up front often changed the tone of the scene. On the rare occasions he got to include sex and kink in his scenes, it was another plane of pleasure for him.

“Oh.” She shifted, biting her own lips, and looked to the floor as though it had answers. He stayed quiet because it was important for her to lay out what she didn’t want. “I mean, we already laid out the standard ones.” Lifting her gaze to meet his again, she picked at her fingernails. “The blood, kids, pictures, animals thing.” She ticked them off on her fingers.

He nodded, all ones he agreed with, as any sane person would.

“I mean, I guess start slow?” She shrugged.

He nodded. “Of course.” Seeing that she struggled, he figured he would jump in with questions. “How are you with nudity? Restraints? Gags? Canes? Floggers? Paddles? Insertables?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She fidgeted with some items on his list, and others caused her eyes to glitter. Her cheeks went from pink to red as his list grew. “Those are fine.” She shifted.

Sliding closer to her on the couch, but not touching her, he lowered his tone. “Are there words I should avoid?”

She cocked her head.

“Some women don’t like certain words. Cunt is one. Bitch is another.”

“No, words are fine.”

He nodded. “And you are okay if I touch you?”

A snort came from her, which might have been a laugh, but he kept his face stern. Which was hard as hell to do because that sound was cute, but he was setting the mood. Her hand slapped over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” The words were muffled. When she dropped her hand, she revealed her face turned a shade of pink.

He really liked that color on her.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, and the pink went away. “I want you to touch me.”

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