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  “Not enough hands, hmm?” he asked with a little smile and stroked the inside of her knee. Mia shivered.

  She swirled her middle finger into her pot of cream, a little deeper this time. Before she could do more, Chess caught her hand and brought it to his lips, licking her finger, then sucking it deep into his mouth. Heat surged through her.

  “That’s enough now.” He held her gaze with his own.

  Disappointment bloomed, dampening her arousal. “Please, Sir,” she said, her vision hazy, her voice tight. “Let me continue.”

  He ran his tongue up and down and around her finger, supplying her with some of the moisture he had stolen away.

  “Shhh, Ruffles. Don’t forget, I decide when you can come. As your Master, I own your orgasms. Just be a patient girl. You’ve waited two months. Surely you can hold out a little longer.”

  Anger flashed through Mia at the little smile on Chess’s face, which bumped up her heart rate. Uh-oh. She never experienced such contradictory emotions with Master Philip. With him she always felt secure and safe. She obeyed his commands without thinking, almost involuntarily, because she knew he would protect her.

  Chess was an unknown quantity. Oh, Mia knew she’d be safe with him physically. He was a responsible player. But emotionally, he’d keep her off balance, always guessing.

  It was what it was. Time to put on her big-girl panties and prove that she could measure up.

  Mia steadied herself while Chess maneuvered her hand so that she now held his larger one.

  “Pretend that my hand is yours,” he murmured. “Use it to get yourself off.”

  Biting her lip, Mia moved both their hands between her legs, hers on top of his. She shivered as she guided his middle finger to circle her clit, brushing it as the tension in her grew tighter and tighter.

  “Tell me, Mia.” His breath brushed her ear. The aroma of his aftershave mingled with her own musky scent, and her nostrils tingled. “Why no orgasm in so long?”

  Mia hissed. She climbed the precipice toward climax, undulating against his fingers, and found it hard to concentrate on anything else.

  “I couldn’t, Sir…”

  “Couldn’t? That’s no answer, sub.”

  “I—oh—too sad…”

  “Sad.” His hand stilled, and Mia almost wept in frustration. “How long since you’ve had a boyfriend, Ruffles?”

  “I don’t—ah—” Since Chess wouldn’t move his hand, she tried rubbing her pussy against his fingers, but he caught her tightly around the waist and held her still.

  “Stop moving,” he ordered. “Answer me.”

  She marshaled her thoughts as best she could to give him a coherent answer, although by now she was nearly panting. “Master Phil—”

  “I’m not talking about Masters. I know Philip was your first. I mean an honest-to-God boyfriend. How long?”

  Why did he care? As her arousal subsided, her brain kicked into gear and awakened suspicion. Why ask these questions about her private life?

  “Maybe a year or so, Sir.”

  “What about fuck buddies? Or booty calls?”

  Even though she sat half-naked on his lap, his questions felt too personal. Intrusive. Mia moved against his fingers in an effort to distract him.

  But he knew what she was trying to do and lightly smacked her thigh. She jolted. “Stop that. Answer me.”

  “No, Sir. Nothing like that.”

  His expression hardened, and Mia wondered what she’d done wrong.

  “I don’t like that. A woman like you should have someone in her life. Men should be beating a path to your door. What’s wrong with the guys in this town? They’re all idiots?”

  His words surprised her, but the surprise soon flitted away because all she could focus on was how badly needed to come. She didn’t know how she’d gone without for so long. Waiting now for his permission was pure torture.

  But he rewarded her patience. His fingers once again brushed against her folds.

  Circling and teasing, Chess played with her swollen, pulsing clit. Mia’s hand rode his helplessly—now he was in control. Her mouth fell open, and her head drooped forward like a flower on a stem. She was so close now, so close.

  He slipped his middle finger under the wet satin of her thong. “Come now,” he commanded. He brushed her clit, and she went over the top. She gave a choked cry as she bowed forward, the spasms coming so hard she couldn’t breathe. She thought she was falling, but Chess’s arm kept her steady. Kept her safe.

  When the sensations rippled away, she lay limply against his chest, dazed, her body boneless.

  She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t want to see the smug expression that would surely be on his face. When she looked, though, his smile was gentle and not the least bit arrogant. “That was a long time coming, hey?”

  Mia nodded, sighing. Her brain had short-circuited.

  He stroked her thigh tenderly. “You did very well, Ruffles. I’m proud of you.”

  His approval made her melty inside. She wanted to say thank you, but she couldn’t speak. “Mmm.” She closed her eyes, leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “That’s mmm, Sir.”

  She wrapped her arms around him as she rested against on his lap, safe and warm.

  He whispered into her hair, “You’re beautiful when you come,” the words so soft, Mia almost thought she imagined them. In a corner of her consciousness, she heard another voice, Philip’s voice. “You’re beautiful, Bella Mia.”

  Mia swallowed hard as a cold sense of unease filled her. Philip didn’t want her anymore; he’d made that clear. Why, then, did she feel as though she had betrayed him?

  Chapter Seven

  Am I really doing this?

  The next day, precisely at noon, Mia stood outside the door of Chess’s apartment. She hadn’t yet rung the bell. She could still turn and walk away.

  At the end of their play last night, Chess had given her his address. If she came to his place by noon on Saturday, they’d spend the afternoon together. After that, they’d see.

  So here she was, though she’d spent the entire night and this morning flip-flopping on her decision. And wondering what she would be letting herself in for.

  She’d told herself that submitting to Chess was moving forward, but she hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Guilt troubled Mia. And that made no sense. Hadn’t Philip made his lack of interest perfectly clear?

  Mia never considered herself a one-night-stand or booty-call kind of girl. She’d had sex, sure, but always within the confines of a relationship. Last night, things had changed. Being with Chess was incredible. Sexually, she’d never known anything like it. But she barely knew him.

  Well, maybe it was time to redefine herself. Before she met Philip, she’d never considered herself a submissive.

  The bottom line was she wanted more. More of what Chess could give her.

  So why were there butterflies inside her? Butterflies? Hell, they feel more like B-52 bombers.

  No more hesitating. In spite of her wobbly knees and queasy stomach, Mia rang the bell, even pressing a bit harder than needed. No turning back now.

  The wait seemed interminable. Chess opened the door and gave her a disarming smile of welcome. What had she expected? The toothy grin of a shark or some other predator? The better to eat you with, my dear.

  He wasn’t surprised to see her. Had he never doubted she would show up? Was she really that predictable?

  “Come in, Mia.”

  He stepped back as she crossed the threshold. She paused a moment to take in her surroundings. The design was minimalist, with a lot of low rectangular furnishings, in soft shades of brown and gray. The tall floor-to-ceiling windows had no curtains. It was like something out of Architectural Digest.

  She turned to take him in as well. The tiny hairs on her arms prickled. She’d seen him in leather at the club and in designer-label business attire, but he was just as breathtaking in the T-shirt and jeans he now wore. The shi
rt was heather gray, and today his eyes were the same color, that of a cloudy winter sky.

  Mia too wore a simple cotton shirt and jeans. He’d instructed her to dress casually today, which surprised her. She thought he’d want her to arrive in some kind of fetish wear, or perhaps even nude under a trench coat. But no.

  “Did you find the place all right?” he asked.

  “Oh, sure. No problem.”

  For some reason, his casual demeanor made Mia even more nervous. She looked around again, and when she glanced his way, his smile had become more of a naughty smirk.

  “Are you disappointed?”

  She blinked in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “It seems my decor has you a bit surprised. Did you expect modern dungeon? Or maybe traditional torture chamber? Sorry, I keep my whips and chains elsewhere.” He leaned in, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered, “You’ll see them later. I promise.”

  A chill of fear shivered through Mia. Or was it anticipation? Chess stepped back, once again the polite host.

  “Have you had lunch?”

  “No.” She’d been too nervous to eat anything this morning and even now had no appetite.

  “Come on; we’ll have some now.” He led her into the kitchen, where the table was already set. “I thought we could eat in here. It’s less formal.”

  Informal seemed to be today’s byword.

  “That’s fine,” Mia murmured.

  “I made us some sandwiches. I hope you like tuna.”

  He’d made lunch? Mia figured him the kind of guy whose idea of preparing a meal was ordering fancy takeout from some posh restaurant. But tuna fish sandwiches? That just seemed so…normal.

  “You look surprised again.”

  “No, nothing. I just—” Mia didn’t want to offend him by admitting her preconceived notions. “I’m not too hungry. It looks good, though.” She took a seat at the small table.

  “Well, you need to eat something just the same. You need to keep up your strength if you going to play with me.” When he gave his eyebrows an exaggerated wiggle like an old-time movie villain, Mia couldn’t help but laugh.

  Soon she realized it was just the two of them. “Where’s Bailey?”

  Chess grinned. “Oh, he’s spending the weekend with a friend.”

  “Oh…” She felt a bit disappointed. She enjoyed the silly dog’s antics. “A friend of yours or his?”

  “Both, actually. A couple I know have a black Lab, Doodle, who Bailey is just crazy about. If he was here, he’d be trying to steal sandwiches and horn in on my time with you.” He gave her a look. “I don’t want to share you with anyone today. Now—what would you like to drink? I have water, milk, juice, pop—”

  “Water’s fine, thank you.” She perched nervously on her chair while he served her and poured himself a glass of cranberry juice.

  “Help yourself.” He gestured to the plate of sandwiches in the middle of the table. Mia took half a tuna sandwich on whole wheat and after her first bite, felt ferociously hungry. The tuna salad was good too—just the right amount of mayonnaise and crunchy with celery.

  She stopped chewing suddenly when she realized Chess had stopped eating and was in fact watching her. Mia’s face heated, and she brought her napkin to her lips self-consciously, suddenly aware of her appreciative sounds.

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  “Don’t apologize.” His smile was warm. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Chess asked some general questions about her job at Social Services, and as Mia answered, the meal passed companionably. She ended up having three half sandwiches along with a handful of carrot sticks and olives. Dessert was fresh fruit.

  So far, nothing had gone as she had expected. He’d been so strict at the club last night she thought he’d throw her into the deep end of the pool right away. But instead he treated her courteously, almost delicately.

  “Let me clean up,” she offered when they had finished eating.

  “No, I’m just going to put these in the sink.” He picked up their plates. “Go wait for me in the living room. I’ll bring us in some coffee. And Ruffles,” he added, as she reached the doorway, “I want you to wait for me on your knees.” His expression and tone said, I’m in charge.

  Mia went still, her heart thumping and her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. It had started…

  His eyebrows rose imperiously. “Well?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her voice sounded rusty.

  In the other room, she sank to her knees beside an armchair, her pulse tripping. Chess took his time. Mia was sure it was part of his torture, drawing out the fear, the excitement. When he entered the room, he carried a tray holding a pitcher of cream, a sugar bowl, and one cup of coffee.

  He paused for a moment to review her pose. “Very nice.” At his praise, Mia’s heart jumped right to her throat and hammered away.

  “How do you take your coffee?” he asked, quickly bringing matters to mundane reality and leaving her hanging. On tenterhooks.

  What are tenterhooks, anyway? “Black, please, Sir. Two spoons of sugar.”

  Setting the tray on the side table, he sat in the armchair next to Mia and stirred sugar into the cup. He held it toward her, and she moved to take the cup.

  “Ah.” His tone stopped her. “Did I say you could move your hands? Stay exactly as you are.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she responded, flustered.

  “I’ll hold it for you.” He brought the steaming cup to her lips and tilted it slightly so she could drink. “Careful. It’s hot.”

  She sipped and swallowed.

  “Too hot?” he asked.

  Mia shook her head.

  “More?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He allowed her another sip and carried the coffee to his own lips. He grimaced as he swallowed a mouthful. “Hmm. Too sweet for me.”

  Chess set the cup aside and trailed his fingers down the back of Mia’s neck. “Speaking of sweet… Do you know how beautiful you look kneeling there, Ruffles? Ready to serve me?”

  Though her eyes were downcast, Mia heard the appreciation in his voice. His approval warmed her like a sunbeam.

  “I’ll be honest—I wasn’t sure you’d even show up. I’m glad you did, though. Very glad.”

  His pleasure made Mia glow. How did the man capture her emotions, tumbling her from confusion to expectation to pride so easily? He truly was a Master, a master at keeping a submissive on the knife’s edge of fear and anticipation.

  “You knew that coming here meant you agreed to submit to me again.” He gently cupped the back of her head in his palm. It took all she had not to break the pose and lean back into his touch. “But why, Mia? Why have you agreed?”

  A flush bloomed on her cheeks. Did he realize he’d used her real name?

  Though she knew she should keep her gaze lowered, Mia risked a quick glance at Chess. His expression turned cold, and his eyes were even colder, like chips of gray ice.

  Mia faltered. She’d told him the truth last night, but perhaps he needed to hear it again, in the cold light of day. What did she gain by holding back? She took a deep breath and pulled strength from deep within herself.

  “Because I’ve missed it. I need it.” As the words fell from her lips, Mia immediately felt lighter. A weight lifted from her.

  She heard the smile in Chess’s voice as he stroked his fingers through her hair. “Very good, Mia.”

  SHE WOULD NEVER know how he waited, his guts churning, for her to acknowledge that she wanted to be here. How he almost sighed with relief when at last she did. If she was only here to please him, Chess would not continue with her. He could never bring himself to top a woman who received no pleasure from his attentions.

  She’d been thrown off guard by the way he greeted her today. Maybe she expected him to have her cross the threshold crawling on hands and knees, but he wanted to shake her up a bit by subverting her expectations. That was part of the fun, after all. But there was another reason he h
adn’t assumed his heavy Dom persona right away. He wanted Mia to see him in a different light. He wanted her to like him.

  He’d never much cared about that before. Not that any of the women he played with should hate him. But respect was what he really craved. He could satisfy them and give them what they needed. He considered it a source of pride. The rest of his life might be turning to shit, but being a good Dom was still one thing he could hold on to. The one thing he could control.

  Mia was impressed by his fancy crib. How impressed would she be if she knew how close he was to losing it?

  He wouldn’t worry about that now. This weekend was for Mia. Come Monday, the wolf would again be at the door. But it wasn’t Monday yet.

  He changed his tone, suddenly all business, wanting to throw her off a bit. After all, that was his job. “But you haven’t told me yet what your hard limits are.”

  Mia licked her lips in a nervous gesture and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. She drew in a deep breath.

  “None.”

  As soon as the word popped out of her, her eyes went wide with horror, as though she wanted to snatch it back. She bit her lip so hard Chess was surprised she didn’t draw blood.

  Chess’s lips tightened. “That’s bullshit.”

  Mia stiffened at the whipcrack of his voice.

  “First of all, if I thought for one minute that was the truth, I’d be escorting you right out the door. We might call what we’re doing play, but it’s also deadly serious. It’s real. That ‘no limits’ stuff is for fantasy and erotica. I don’t want some doormat who’d let herself be debased because she thinks it would please me.” He went silent as he stared at her, his eyes narrow. “I know you’re not a doormat, Ruffles. You proved that last night. So what you just told me is a lie.”

  Mia’s face flamed, but she stubbornly refused to acknowledge his words.

  His voice sliced the air. “Why did you lie?” A moment later he grew quiet.

  “Are you afraid you’ll disappoint me?”

  Her silence was his answer.

  “The only way you’ll disappoint me is by not being truthful.” He let that sink in. “I know that Philip introduced you to the scene. He was your first Dom. It’s normal to have reservations and some nerves when playing with a new partner. Look at me.”