Brokered Submission Read Free Page B

want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life,” she said earnestly. “I’ve been working on this every spare minute for the last six months, and I think I have the downside covered, even if things don’t pan out quite as we hope. You’ll end up making money on this deal, I can almost guarantee it.”
    “I have to admit, Zoë, I’m quite impressed with your financial creativity and clear-minded analysis of the risks and rewards. Yes, it’s a gamble, but what business deal worth doing doesn’t involve some risk? You know what they say”—he shrugged and grinned, thinking of the millions he’d made, and sometimes lost, over his career—”nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
    They arrived at his office building, checked in with the night attendant and glided upward in the large, wood-paneled elevator, neither saying a word as they watched the digital numbers rise. Once in the empty office, he booted up his computer, and Zoë accessed the account information he would need to transfer the promised money. It took about a half hour to complete the various transactions necessary to liquidate the needed funds. Once he was done, Dylan called to Zoë, who had been staring out of the huge glass windows that framed Manhattan’s famous night-lit skyline, to come over to his desk.
    “There it is,” he said, pointing to the scheduled transfer. “All set and ready to go. Once you complete your end of the deal”—he paused, letting his eyes sweep slowly over her face and body, amused and aroused at the faint flush of pink rising to her cheeks—“the money will be sent to your account.”
    Zoë wrapped her arms protectively around herself and bit her lower lip.
    Dylan lifted his brows as he regarded her. “What? Having second thoughts? It’s not too late—you want out”—he offered an exaggerated shrug—“I’m sure you can find the funding elsewhere. The deal is solid. I would hate to think I was forcing you into something you didn’t really want to do.”
    Zoë said nothing, instead continuing to worry her lower lip. Dylan resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and bite that sexy, pouty lip himself. Instead, he added softly, “Forty-eight hours, Zoë. Two uninterrupted days to discover if your secret desires can become reality.” He reached for her shoulders then, and stared deeply into her eyes. “I want it,” he admitted, letting the urgency he felt slip into his tone. “I think you want it too.”
    She stared back and finally nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I want it too.”
    They took the elevator down to the parking garage, where Dylan’s silver BMW M5 waited like a gallant steed to carry them home. They stopped first at Zoë’s midtown apartment. He waited out front while she went up to collect her toiletries and do whatever else she needed for her weekend stay. “You won’t need any clothing,” he said, again enjoying the sweet blush his words provoked, “so pack lightly.”
    Once they wove their way out of the crush of city traffic, Dylan made good time. He glanced over at Zoë as he drove along Bronx River Parkway toward his Scarsdale home. She was quiet, her eyes on the road, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. It was after eleven, but he wasn’t the least bit tired, or if he was, the adrenaline kicking around like rocket fuel in his gut wouldn’t let him realize it.
    What an extraordinary opportunity. The whole concept of taking an innocent—a total neophyte in the world of BDSM—and introducing her to its dark pleasures and infinite intensity, had completely taken him over since it had leaped full-blown into his brain at the bar. Zoë was a blank slate with the potential, he sensed, to become a masterpiece of erotic submission and grace. She had no preconceived notions, no negative experience to undo.
    He slowed as he exited the highway and wended his way through the large, tree-lined streets of his quiet neighborhood. He pulled into his driveway and