Page 41 of Playing With My Fire

My nerves are ravaged as I try to keep my hands steady, to take my own advice and breathe deep and steady. But my heart races as I undo all my hard work one slow knot at a time until the girl is finally free.

I hate to leave the room without confronting my… what?

What the hell is she?

My nemesis?

Not even close.

The bane of my existence?

No matter how much I wish that were true, no.

My dream girl?

I hate to admit it, even to myself, but even if she does lack the fuller curves I normally go for, she is perfect.

Perfect for me.

No!

I can’t have her. I’m her boss. Nothing more, nothing less. And the quicker she understands that the quicker we can both move on. God, I fucking hope so.

I lead my disoriented bottom from the room and into my bedroom down the hall far from the rest of the party. I don’t normally bring bottoms to my room, but this requires privacy I can’t get anywhere else.

“Lay face down on the bed, sweetling.”

She automatically crawls onto the bed, and I try to appreciate her lush ass, but it’s all wrong, and it only makes me more rattled.

I count to ten breathing deeply before I climb onto the bed to kneel next to her. Typically, I’d straddle her while I rub her down, but it’s too intimate. Something I should never do with the bottoms I don’t intend to take as lovers.

Not that I’ve had an actual lover in months.

Yes, I peg my best friend and bring orgasms to all my bottoms, but the favor hasn’t been returned in a long time. And if I give it enough thought, I know I haven’t taken a lover since… her.

Goddammit, Estrella!

This thought process isn’t making this any easier.

I’d swear on my life that the devil on my shoulder just guffawed. As if I’m ridiculous to deny this craving, this want, this fucking need for someone for the first time… ever.

Ugh!

Shut the fuck up!

“Everything okay?” Her hesitant question brings me back to the present, and I know my time is up.

I lean back on my haunches. “Are you feeling better, my dear?”

I flinch at the term of endearment, but she doesn’t notice as she stretches long before turning over to gift me with the sight of her perfect body that makes me feel… nothing.

“I feel great, like I always do. Thank you, Mistress.”

She climbs to her knees and reaches for me, but I hold her at arm’s length, making her pout.

“Michelle, we need to talk.”

She slumps. “Nothing good ever comes from that dreaded sentence.”

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