The Contract Read Free Page B

honest answer. “I don’t even understand what a lot of the things in that contract truly mean.”
    “And if we can take away the unknowns?”
    “How can I know, when they mean nothing to me now?”
    Before I knew his intent, I was on my back, and his big body was sliding over mine, the scent of him insinuating itself into my nostrils. God, I love how that man smells. I can still smell him in my apartment now as I write this.
    “I’ll teach you what they mean,” he promised.
    The idea of him teaching me was/is unbelievably arousing, as was the thick press of his erection against my stomach that assured me he wanted me that night.
    Still, I have limits. And Dr. Kat had told me to tell him my limits, so I said, “There are things in that contract I’ll never agree to.”
    “Then we take them out.”
    “What if they’re things you want?”
    “We’ll negotiate. One of the best parts of the contract is openly discussing what we both want. It’s about trust. You tell me what’s okay. You know I won’t cross that line, and you always have your safe word. You’re the one in control.”
    “How am I in control?”
    “You set the limits and we stop when you say stop. That’s total control, something you don’t have in a different type of relationship.”
    This was news to me. I hadn’t thought about this relationship in that way until then.
    “You have your safe word,” he added. “You say it—I stop whatever I’m doing. You remember what it is?”
    “Red,” I said, breathless. He’s good at making me breathless.
    “Good,” he approved and his eyes glistened with desire. “I’m going to do something I’ve not done in ten years. I’m going to set the contract aside for now. We’ll go one lesson at a time, and I’ll teach you what everything means.”
    Ten years? “Why would you do that?”
    “Because I want you as my sub, Rebecca, like I haven’t wanted another sub in a very long time. Say ‘yes’ and we’ll go one lesson at a time. I’ll be the teacher and you’ll be the student.”
    Suddenly I had the hope I wanted, the confirmation that I wasn’t just a contract. I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
    I felt his instant approval, saw it in the darkening of his eyes. “Good girl.”
    He undressed me then, and I let him. Then, he undressed himself. I wasn’t shy about watching every delicious inch of skin appear, nor was I shy about my appreciation of his jutting erection as he put on a condom.
    When he came back to me, pulling me beneath him again, I was already lost in desire and ready for him. Of course, nothing is fast and simple with this man. I should have known that. “There’s a few more rules,” he said, and his breath was warm on my neck, his lips by my ear.
    “Rules?” I asked, feeling nervous all over again, some of the haze of desire slipping away.
    “You call me ‘Master,’ so you can get used to it.”
    This I could do. It was the one thing in the contract I found the least intimidating. “Yes. Okay.”
    “Say it.” He caressed my breast and teased my nipple, as if encouraging me.
    Like I would deny him his title while he was doing that to me? I’d been easy prey. “Master,” I whispered with surprising comfort.
    He slid down and licked my nipple. “Again,” he commanded.
    “Master,” I panted. I’ve never been a panting person, but this man makes me pant. He makes me do a lot of things that I’d never do for another man.
    And since he’d rewarded me for my compliance by suckling and licking my nipples, I was pretty sold on the “Master” title. If it makes him happy, apparently he’ll make me happy.
    Well, mostly happy. I do keep finding little things that worry me. Like how his mouth had moved to linger above mine but he hadn’t kissed me. And I realized that he hasn’t kissed me many times at all.
    “You will call me ‘Master’ when we’re alone,” he instructed next. (Still no kiss.) “In public, we remain as we are. What we are beyond that is