“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 hadn’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.”
When she obeyed, he went on. “I know it’s silly to say ‘Don’t be nervous.’ But believe me, Ruffles, no man in his right mind could ever be disappointed in you.” Her gaze held his and an expression of doubt flitted across her face. Did she really not know how appealing she was? The word
delectable
popped into his head. As delicious as cake, whipped cream, and strawberry jam.
He could look at her all day, but now was not the time to get sidetracked. “So let’s try it this way. I’ll ask questions and you give me the answers. How do you feel about spanking?”
“I…” Her throat moved as she swallowed hard. “All right.”
“Uh-huh. And bondage?”
This time she answered more quickly. “Yes.”
“And sex? If I top you, I’m going to make you come. Just like I did last night. It doesn’t mean we have to fuck, but—”
She spoke before he could finish. “Yes.”
Her assent left him light-headed with relief, and he realized how disappointed he’d have been if she said no.
“Yes to touching and other things…but no intercourse.” Her brown eyes pinned him. Her voice was firm.
And suddenly Chess’s elation fell flat. Fucking had never been an especially important part of play for him, but now he couldn’t imagine playing with Mia and not finishing inside her. It was like being served a succulent piece of steak and not being allowed to taste it.
But he would not allow his letdown show. Instead, he kept his voice light and easy. “See? How hard is it to be honest?”
“Very well,” Master Chess said. “Let’s get started.”
Mia’s pulse thumped in her ears. Why she was so jittery? She wasn’t a complete novice at this, after all.
He gestured with his finger. “On your feet, sub.”
Taking a deep breath, she rose to from her knees, trying to be graceful. Chess sat with his legs comfortably stretched out. He pulled a remote control from the side table drawer, pressed a button, and music began to play. Philip enjoyed classical music and opera, but Chess preferred soft jazz.
She stood with her head lowered, hands clasped behind her back in the proper submissive position.
“Look at me.” His voice was soft.
When she obeyed, Mia saw that his lips were fuller and his eyelids were at half-mast. “Take off your clothes.”
Her hand went to the button on her jeans, but he said, “No. Your top first.”
There was no way to pull a T-shirt over one’s head gracefully. She should have thought about that earlier. Once she had her top off, his eyes widened at what she wore underneath. A red brocade corset covered with black lace.
“You’ve had that on the whole time?”
He didn’t like it? “Y-yes, Sir,” she stammered, the shirt dangling foolishly from her hand.
“Didn’t I tell you to dress casually today?”
“Yes, Sir.” In a nervous gesture she raised her free hand to smooth her hair.
“Stop that.”
Instantly her arms were at her side.
His lips had tightened into a flat line. “Do you normally walk around with a corset under your clothes?”
Was she already messing up? “No, Sir.”
“I didn’t think so. You can’t tell me it’s comfortable.” At her confused silence he demanded, “Well, is it?”
“Not—not really, Sir. But—”
“What?”
“I thought you’d like it. Sir.” Irritation shot through her, and it took real effort to keep her voice humble. For God’s sake, would he have preferred a cotton bra and panties?
“You’re lying, Ruffles. Give me that.” He indicated the T-shirt.
She stepped toward him, burning with resentment at his accusation. Chess took the garment, but Mia did not let it go. Their gazes locked.
He read the question in her face.
What do you mean I lied?
“You told yourself the corset was for me.” Chess spoke in a low, intimate tone. “But really, you wore it for yourself. You wanted something that held you tightly, constricted you. It excited you, didn’t it, to feel the corset squeezing your waist, your ribs. Your breasts. Did you pretend it was my hands touching you, holding you?”
Her fingers loosened, released the shirt. Heat flashed through her, but not from anger. “Yes,” she answered, her lips numb. She only now realized the truth.
“And were you wet? Thinking about me touching you?” His eyes wouldn’t let her go. “Are you wet now?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded far away.
His expression softened, and he smiled. “I’m honored.”
Chess carefully folded the soft T-shirt and set it on the sofa. “Now take off the jeans.”
Mia did as instructed, revealing her black satin thong. She tried to hide her trembling.
Chess took the jeans, placing them beside the shirt.
“Relax, Mia. Just stand naturally.” His voice was quiet.
Relax? How could she, as aroused as she was? Chess knew it too. Mia could tell from his smirk.
“Look at me,” Chess said.
She did, and felt captured by his eyes. Frozen in time.
His gaze warmed her as it coasted over her form. It felt as though he were actually touching her. Of her own volition, Mia straightened her spine and proudly thrust her breasts forward.
“I’ll say one thing,” he told her. “The corset is lovely.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
His gray eyes met hers. “Take it off.”
Chills went through her at the command. Mia had unfastened the top hook of her corset when suddenly she flashed on the large uncurtained windows lining the wall.
Chess followed her glance. “Are you worried someone might see you? It’s a weekend. Everyone’s out and about. It’s very unlikely anyone’s at home across the way.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as she relaxed a bit. “Of course, if someone did decide to spend the day at home, I imagine he’d get a very pleasant surprise if he looked this way about now.”
Mia’s fingers froze. “Eyes on me,” Chess said softly. “Only on me. It’s not your concern if anyone can see you in here.
I
want to see you. Your only worry should be pleasing me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, realizing she wanted to please him more than anything. Needed to. Even the fear of being observed did not diminish that. Her fingers were clumsy, trembling slightly as she slipped the tiny hooks from their fastenings.
“Slowly, Ruffles. Much more slowly.” He leaned back in the armchair, sprawling his long limbs lazily. “I want to enjoy the show.”
Chess shook his head as he witnessed her nervousness undressing in the open room with the sunlight shining through the windows. “I see we still have an issue with trust. We’ll work on that.”
“What is it that bothers you about undressing for me?” he asked. “Are you really afraid someone might see you? Or is it that you’re not comfortable with
me
seeing you naked?”
Mia thought the question might be rhetorical, but answered just the same as her fingers continued to work. “I don’t know, Sir.”
“Hmm. I wonder. Maybe we need to work on honesty as well.” He watched silently as she undid the last of the hooks and held the corset closed with her hands. “You’re not one of those silly women who hates her body, are you? Who thinks her thighs are too big or her breasts are too small?”
Mia held still, watching him. He sat up, holding out his hand. “Give it to me.”