Page 24 of The Sadist and the Brat

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she said, and keeping her back to him, reached for the trio of fasteners. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He stepped around her to reach for the pile and came up with her panties in his hand. “Do you want to put these back on?”

“If I don’t, I’ll have to hold them for the rest of the night.” She gestured to her dress. “It’s not like I have pockets.”

“Good point,” he said, but when she reached for the G-string, he slid smoothly to his knees in front of her. “Step in.”

“I can do it myself,” she protested.

“I know,” he said, and waited.

Stuck, she lifted a foot. “This feels weird.”

“Does it?”

“You’re on your knees,” she pointed out, wobbling a little.

“So? Put your hand on my shoulder for balance,” he ordered.

She obeyed, trying not to notice how his shoulder felt under her hand—hard and warm and more than capable of holding up her ankles, an image that popped into her head and did nothing to make her feel any steadier—and slipped her foot into the leg hole. “You don’t feel submissive on your knees like that?”

“I never feel submissive, because I’m not,” he replied. “Do you feel dominant right now?”

She slipped her other foot into the panties, his shoulder hard under her hand and his breath warm against her thighs. “Not exactly.”

“There you go.” He slid the panties up her legs. She winced when they scraped over her tenderized butt. “Sore?”

“A little,” she told him and took a step back.

He stayed on his knees. “So? What’d you think?”

She was off balance, edgy and aroused, and spoke before she could think better of it. “What do you want, a review?”

“Sure,” he said, and smiled. “It’ll help me plan our next scene.”

She stared down at him and struggled to think. Her mind felt like it was full of cotton candy, and he was still on his knees, which wasn’t helping. “Next scene?”

“You owe me one, don’t you? If you had fun.” His eyes were dancing as he picked up one of her boots and held it out. “Want some help with these?”

She just stared at him, for once in her life genuinely speechless.

His smile spread, waking up the butterflies in her belly. “Give me your right foot.”

She complied, watching the light play in his hair as he worked the boot over her foot and zipped it up. When he reached for the second boot and held out a hand, one eyebrow raised in demand, she gave him her left foot without a word.

He slid the boot on and zipped it, his touch no more personal than a shoe salesman’s, and rose smoothly to his feet. “So?”

She slipped the elastic off the end of one braid and began to unwind it, just to give herself something to do.“I had a…not terrible time.”

“Please, you’ll turn my head with such effusive praise.”

His tone was so dry she snorted out a laugh before she could stop herself. “Okay, it was fun.”

“There now, was that so hard?”

You have no idea. “I guess I owe you a scene.”

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