How to Punish Your Playboy (DommeNation #3) Read Free Page A

turning as I waited. “Okay, first off, just boss him around. Don’t let him do anything to you that you don’t initiate. Everything must go at your pace.”
    I nodded. “Okay, what else?”
    “Give him a naughty nickname, teach him how safewords go—you remember that from that dirty Domme trilogy you read, right?”
    “Couldn’t forget it. Green light means go, yellow means slow down, red means stop.”
    “Right. Now, I can’t teach you how shibari works over the phone, so let’s stick with handcuffs and bondage tape for now. I—”
    “What?”
    “You’ve got him in your car, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    Sarah giggled. “Let’s just say there’s a gift for you in the glove box.”
    “Sarah . . .” I warned. What was she getting at?
    “I couldn’t help myself!” she burst. “My new sub loves cars, so I may or may not have done naughty things to him inside Johnny.”
    “You made my Johnny the trois in your ménage?!” I shouted.
    “Well, it’s all going to work out for you now, since there’s something you can use in the glove box, okay?”
    I put the phone a short distance from my mouth and yelled at her. “Do I need to Purell the seats?!”
    “We brought blankets! It’s sanitary! Now go have fun with your boy!”
    “I can’t yet—you haven’t told me enough!” She couldn’t just give me two or three tips and expect me to know what to do with this guy; my smut knowledge wasn’t enough either.
    “Gotta spin. Good luck! I want all the dirty deets in the morning!” she said and hung up.
    I sauntered back to the car, mentally playing my words over and over in my head. Don’t look like a poser, don’t look like a poser. I got into the car and he greeted me with a cocky expression. This is it, time to set the tone. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to go.” I held my finger to his lips, scraping lightly with my red acrylic nail, and tried to imagine what Sarah would say. “Here are the rules. You stop talking now. I’m the one calling the shots. Now be a good boy and wait for further instructions.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said, hot breath tickling my finger. I nearly giggled. He bought it! Wait, not just it, but the car . . . and me, too! Oh dear.
    I brought my thumb to his lips and pinched. “That’s Mistress Veronika to you.”

We cruised along in silence for about a minute before I decided to speak. I figured I should try to let the tension mount, make him wonder. I also tried to figure out what the fuck I was going to say. I smiled, hands on the leather of the wheel, imagining how I’d take this wealthy boy down a notch. Sarah had suggested I make up some sort of slightly demeaning but cute nickname for him. What would I call him? Little boy? No, that was gross. My little fuck toy? Sounded too much like My Little Pony. How about Dirty Playboy? The more quick looks I stole at him, the more I found myself nearly veering off the road. He was gorgeous. Really gorgeous, and he knew it. Was he the sub type, or was I delusional about this whole little escapade? He looked far too cocky to be dominated, but dammit I was going to try.
    This time when I glanced at him, my eyes thankfully disguised by my sunglasses, I saw him admiring the car’s leather interior, stroking it with his long, tan fingers. Two emotions zipped through me—desire and, oddly enough, defense. Part of me suddenly wanted to go back to the auction and call the deal off. People always said I was born to drive this car, with my stoplight red hair and creamy skin. We were a perfect match, Johnny and me; we looked good together. Then again, Aston looked . . . good in general. I wanted to swipe his neatly combed bangs into his eyes, rough him up, and give him a long kiss on that full mouth. Then slap the smirk off his face that would likely follow. All this Domme stuff made me feel so empowered. But after the stunt I pulled today, of course I felt empowered! I gave Derek the most epic fuck off of all