Page 39 of Dominated

My hands were fluttering.

My pussy was dripping.

I could barely catch my breath.

Before I reached for the number pad, I checked my watch.

I had thirty-six seconds to spare.

So, I paused, reminding myself that I was here for conversation.

This would be a verbal satisfaction prior to a physical one—if it even got to the point of him touching me.

It didn’t matter that he was in my private room.

That the space wasn’t used for talking.

That it was my sexual sanctuary.

I straightened my shirt and tucked a small chunk of hair behind my ear, calming the pulsing in my chest and the tightness in my throat.

The cold metal numbers were a stark contrast to my sweaty skin, and I pressed on them to enter the code.

The moment the door opened, our eyes locked.

The little air in my lungs vanished.

The humming inside my body turned to moans.

My God.

He was the most beautiful, haunting man I’d ever seen.

And as I stepped inside, his gaze followed me to the table, where he was standing at the head—a position he hadn’t moved from since I’d last checked the live feed.

I took my position at the foot of the table.

Six feet separated us.

It felt like miles.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re doing here, Bale?”

The sound of my voice startled me.

The harshness that scraped with each syllable, yet I’d asked the question so submissively.

“I missed you.”

There was an edge in his voice. A hunger in the way he looked at me, like I was a Tanqueray and tonic after the longest day of his life.

My eyes narrowed as I gripped the corner of the table for confidence.

Is he being honest?

I’d spent less than twenty-four hours in his presence. I didn’t know him well enough to be able to tell.

But something deep inside told me he was being truthful.

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