Authors: Sierra Cartwright
Sometime during the night, she’d reached a decision to get in contact with Mr Dettmer.
She wanted the experience he offered, at least once. He might be disappointed in her, but she’d have the memory to last a lifetime.
Before she could change her mind, she powered up the computer. While it was booting, she went into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee from her single-cup brewer. She took a long, fortifying sip before opening her browser, selecting the last site from her history, and clicking on his picture.
She filled in her contact information. In the blank space for her message, she wrote, “Met you in the elevator yesterday. I’m curious.”
Her hand shook as she hit Send.
Myka spent the next hour alternately wishing she’d never sent the email and obsessively checking for a response.
She was on the way out of the door, a to-go cup of coffee in hand, when her cell phone signalled an incoming email. She juggled the cup, her purse, and her tote onto the hallway table. There was no way she could tolerate the suspense of not knowing if the message was from
him.
Her heart momentarily stopped then raced on madly.
The subject line read, “Call me.” There was no message, just a phone number. She collapsed against the wall and stared at the screen. She only had to touch the number to dial him.
Dare she?
Finally she took a deep breath and touched the number. The phone gave her the option to confirm her choice.
This time she didn’t hesitate. She’d made up her mind.
“Dettmer,” he said.
Oh, God. She’d forgotten how rich his voice was, how compelling. With a single word, he made her damp. “Hello…” She paused, uncertain how to address him. Sir? Phillip? Mr Dettmer?
He waited. Even through the phone lines, she sensed his patience. “It’s Myka Monroe. We met yesterday in the elevator.”
“How was the book?” he asked.
“You don’t waste time on small talk, do you?”
“Do you want me to?”
“It might make it a bit easier.”
“Is that what you really want, Myka? For me to make things easier for you? Or do you want to confess to me that you played with yourself last night while you thought of me?”
She gasped.
Before she could formulate an answer, he spoke again. “How many times did you come, Myka?”
The dialogue in the novel had been one of the things that had turned her on most, but now that Phillip Dettmer,
the
Phillip Dettmer, was being so blunt, she found herself flustered. “Just once,” she said.
“Did you use a toy, or just your hand?”
“Uhm… A toy.” The word sir was on the tip of her tongue, and she almost, almost, used it. She’d never had that kind of inclination with any man before, but then she’d never met a man this powerful, this self-assured, this unyielding.
“Tell me more. Where were you? What were you thinking of?”
Thank God she hadn’t returned his call from the office. “Last night I took a bath.” She paused, but he didn’t fill the silence. She sensed he’d wait her out, no matter how long it took. Nervously she continued, “I had a glass of wine and I read for about an hour in the tub. You know, the book I had in the elevator.”
Again he said nothing.
“Then I went to bed with my vibrator.”
“Continue.”
With her free hand she pushed hair back from her face. “I was thinking about scenes I’d just read, but my imagination took over.” Admitting all this was embarrassing. Part of her wondered what she was doing. Myka reminded herself that she’d sought him out. “I was tied up.” Before courage could completely desert her, “I imagined a sharp slap between my legs.”
“On your pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I imagined being slapped
hard
on my pussy.”
“And then you came?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Has anyone ever done that to you?”
“No. Never.”
“And would you like to have your pussy spanked hard, Myka?”
Oh. God. She could barely breathe. There was something about the tone of his voice—seductive
and
firm—that undid her, seeming to send a bolt of electricity through her.
“Answer the question, Myka.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Speak a little louder, please.”
This man would never let her hide. Was she brave enough to face him? “Yes,” she repeated, a little more loudly. “Yes, I’d like to have my pussy spanked.”
“Good girl.”
His approval made her heart race.
“What kind of real experience do you have with BDSM?” he asked.
“Uhm… None.”
“But you want your pussy spanked. And you want me to be the one to do it.” He waited a moment, and then added, “Ask me, Myka.”
Her knees felt weak and terror vanquished her voice.
With that seemingly infinite patience, he waited.
Finally she cleared her throat. Hoping she was using the correct words, she asked, “Will you please spank my pussy?”
“I’d be honoured to spank your pussy, as hard as you want. When?”
She almost repeated the question before realising how inane that would sound. “Whenever you’re available.”
“We have a few options. You can come to my home. We can go to a club. Or I can come to you. Or you can continue to wonder what it might be like to have your needs met.”
She hadn’t considered the practicalities. If she went to him, she had the option of leaving if things spiralled out of control. At her place, she would feel more secure. She wasn’t sure about the idea of playing in public, but that was probably the safest option, at least until she knew him better. “I think a club would be best.”
“Would you like me to send a car?”
She paused for a moment. There were constant reminders of who she was dealing with. She was pretty sure he didn’t mean he’d send a taxi. “Yes, thank you.” Not needing to figure out where to park was the decision-maker for her.
“Monday night?”
Suddenly it all seemed too real. “Yes.”
“Wear a short skirt and heels. The shirt should be a button-down. I’ll leave the choice of undergarments up to you. They won’t stay on long, anyway.”
Her hand was shaking as he ended the call. She pressed the phone nervously against her chest. What had she just agreed to?
Chapter Two
Phillip arrived at the club half an hour early, a bag in hand.
It had been a long time since he’d played with a neophyte. The idea of introducing Myka to BDSM appealed to him on a number of levels, emotional, mental, and, of course, physical. When she’d confessed to playing with herself, his cock had hardened. Instead of relieving himself, he’d decided to enjoy the sensual tension.
He hadn’t had a submissive in a handful of years, and he wasn’t looking for another one. But he was tired of the constant stream of starlets, heiresses and socialites. He met his needs for kink through a relationship with a professional sub, but recently, he’d been restless. He’d wanted an emotional connection. He appreciated Daniella, but their arrangement had a time, a date, and a price tag attached. Myka Monroe might be the jolt his jaded senses needed.
He’d been drawn to her when she’d stepped confidently into the elevator, wearing a business suit and sexy heels, her hair pulled back to expose the vulnerable column of her throat. And when he’d mentioned the book, she’d blushed. Her lack of artifice had intrigued him.
It had been obvious that she hadn’t known who he was. And that had appealed to him. Their interaction had been brief but honest. Woman to man.
He’d intentionally skipped giving her a business card, realising it would take homework for her to track him down. He’d hoped she’d contact him, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadn’t. Honestly it had taken her less time than he’d thought it might, and he appreciated her efforts…enough so to reward them.
“I’m expecting someone,” he told Jason, the club’s host.
“Indeed, Sir?”
He signed in and added his membership number. “Myka Monroe. It’s her first time. Have someone bring her to me in the bar.”
“Anything else, Sir?”
When he shook his head, Jason said, “Enjoy your evening.”
Phillip nodded. He wondered what Myka’s reaction would be to the tall, broad Jason. He sported a Mohawk, a leather harness, pierced nipples, a collar with metal spikes, poured-on tight leather pants, and motorcycle boots. Not your typical office attire.
Phillip sat at a small table towards the back of the bar. It was a good place for people watching, and he’d get to enjoy her arrival. Since it was a Monday night, the club wasn’t as busy as it would be on a weekend, but there were still plenty of people who might shock the impressionable Ms Monroe.
The bartender herself brought over a tall beer. “I thought Daniella had tonight off,” Jilly said.
With Jilly the word
nosy
was an understatement. “I have a guest joining me.”
She smiled. “About time.”
“Unless you’d like to bend over and grab your ankles while I light up that ass of yours, I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself.”
Clearly lacking a single submissive tendency, Jilly blew a raspberry. How he loved this place. No one cared one bit about who he was in the outside world. They just knew him here, accepted him for who he was, a person looking for the perfect match.
“Seriously, I hope it works out.” Then, reverting to her normal sassy self, Jilly flipped her hair over her shoulder and moved off to help another table.
He’d only taken a single drink of the cold draught when he saw Jason moving in his direction. Phillip checked his watch. He raised his brows, impressed. He’d instructed Tony, his driver, to pick her up forty minutes before their meeting time. So either traffic had been nonexistent or Myka had changed the pickup time, trying to be strategically early.
Jason pointed to Phillip’s table before returning to his post.
Phillip stood when she neared the table. Her skirt was short. A good tailor could easily take another inch and a half from the length and still leave it decent, but still, it pleased him to see so much of her shapely legs. She’d followed his other directions well, also. She’d selected stiletto pumps, and she wore a white button-down blouse. The evening was off to a good start.
She hesitated before him. He knew her to be a competent financial adviser who took her commitment to client confidentiality seriously. He’d spent a fair amount of resources having his people vet her. The brief and unfortunate relationship with Cynthia had taught him not to take undue chances. “Please.” He indicated Myka should sit.
She did so, tucking her stocking-clad legs to one side and crossing her ankles in a seductively feminine way. He took a chair across from her and signalled Jilly.
When the woman arrived, Myka looked at him for guidance. The gesture pleased him. When he’d sent her confirmation details, he’d also included a few links to online articles about the lifestyle. They’d spoken on the telephone a couple of times so he was sure she understood him and his expectations. “You read the blog posts I sent?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t say the word ‘Sir’, but she did hesitate, meaning she was tempted, but unsure of protocol.
“I’m okay with you having one drink. As long as you haven’t had anything yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
She ordered a glass of red wine, and when it arrived, she toyed with the stem, betraying her nerves. He noticed her nails, polished to a beautiful shine. He couldn’t wait to see her hand wrapped around his cock. “Undo your top button,” he instructed.
She looked up and worried her lower lip. She didn’t look around, instead she looked at him. Her instincts were perfect. She kept her gaze fixed on him as she followed his order. Was there anything sweeter than a sub being under his command?
“Lovely,” he approved. “Now the next one.”