Page 33 of Ward Willing
Fuck.
“And are you comfortable sharing anything else?” Orion asks. “Perhaps somethingnotfrom the quiz?”
I know him well enough to know that he’s goading me.
“Sure.” Zoe laughs. “I enjoy being dominated. I consider myself a submissive. My answers don’t surprise me because they’re in line with what I already enjoy in bed.”
WHAT?
That’s it. My brain is going to explode.
My cock might follow suit, too.
Zoeenjoys beingdominated?Well, that’s fucking news to me.
“Anyone care to share?” Orion asks, stopping right in front of my desk. “Anyone, perhaps someone who got a different score range?”
Oh, fuck him.
I’m clearing my throat before I know what I’m doing.
Maybe it’s because she surprised me with her answers, so I want to surprise her with mine. Or maybe it’s because I’m frustrated with the whole situation, so I want to get it over with. Whatever the case, I pick the first question and answer my eyes land on.
“I can share,” I grit out. Thank god for the NDA, because the last thing I need is for any of my students to know what my personal kinks are. Or lack thereof. “‘Does the idea of switching roles in BDSM, going from dominant to submissive, appeal to you?’ I answered with a one because the idea of being submissive doesn’t appeal to me.”
Orion hums and gives me a feline smile. “So, would you consider yourself gravitating toward the dominant side of BDSM?”
My hands curl around the edge of the desk. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m not into sadism or masochism.”
“So nothing like me,” Orion offers, and a few people laugh.
I huff a laugh. “Sure.”
“So… you enjoy dominating with pleasure, then?”
“Yes.”
The answer comes so instantly that I’m sure I must be beet red. Andfuckif I don’t hear Zoe inhale a tiny, shaky breath.
Orion moves on, asking a few other people who want to share their results. I keep my eyes looking forward, but I can see Zoe looking at me in my peripheral vision.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she says after a minute. “Pleasure Doms are actually quite common?—”
“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I growl, fingers curling around my pen.
“I’m just saying, you can talk to me about this stuff.”
“No.” She leans closer, and my jaw ticks with frustration.
“It makes sense, considering how you acted that night.”
“You’re onthin fucking ice, Zoe.”
When she doesn’t respond, I glance over at her and see her watching me. Something in her expression is yielding—almost docile. So unlike the brattiness I’m used to. She looks down at her answers, and then I let my eyes wander over to her again. I don’t miss the pink bloom on her cheeks, or the blush on her neck.How far down does that blush go?
Her hair is straight today, pulled back into a clip. She’s wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt tucked into a form-fitting denim skirt and tights. Her skirt is short—tooshort—and it’s riding up her thighs, exposing…
Stockings and a lace garter.
