The Agreement (20 page)

That
hurt
.

I turned on my heel and went to the kitchen,
opening and closing drawers, looking for my tea strainer so I could make some
tea for us, but of course, I really just wanted to escape him. He came to me,
standing behind me. He probably realized he went too far with that.

"I'm sorry." He reached out and
touched my shoulder, softly.

"You’re a
bastard
."

"No, I'm not. I'm just being honest."
He took hold of my shoulders and turned me around to face him but I did my best
to avoid his eyes, because mine were wet. The truth of his words hurt me.

"Kate, you
deserve
to have pleasure
when you need it. You're not a bad girl for wanting to feel it. I can give it
to you. I
want
to give you the pleasure you need in the way that most
appeals to you, deep down inside if you're brave enough to admit it to
yourself."

He bent down and tried to catch my eyes, but I
closed them.

"Here," he said and folded me into his
arms. I didn't stop him, but neither did I melt into his embrace. I was still
too hurt to let him comfort me, my body stiff, unyielding.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings by speaking
the truth so plainly. If this is going to work between us, you have to let me
break down those protective walls you've built up around yourself. Otherwise,
you won’t really experience submission the way you need to."

I looked up at him briefly before glancing away.
"So you're telling me you have to be mean to me in order for me to be able
to submit?"

"
No
," he said, and tilted my
face back to him. "You have to be honest with me about what you need and
want. You have to honest with
yourself
."

I just stood there, breathing deeply, fighting
with myself.

"Kate,
are
you sexually attracted to
me?"

"You already know you're very
handsome."

"I didn’t ask that. I asked you if you were
sexually attracted to me."

I couldn't say it. I felt it, but couldn't admit
it.

He tried again, his voice very soft. "Do
you want to fuck me? Is there a part of you that just wishes you could right
now and to hell with convention?"

Finally, I exhaled. "Yes. But I'm
afraid."

"
What
are you afraid of? That you'll
have a great orgasm or three?"

"I'm afraid that you'll hurt me."

He sighed, frowning. "I
told
you and
Lara told you that I'm not into pain. I don’t want to
hurt
you, Kate. I
want to make you feel
pleasure
."

"Not that kind of hurt." Of course, he
knew what I really meant.

"That won't happen. We'll only have sex.
None of that relationship stuff. We won't have breakfast together or go to
movies or on dates. We'll fuck. I'll tie you up and make you come until you
scream. I'll come. Then I'll go home. You'll sleep like a baby. End of
story."

"What if I fall in love with you?"

He shook his head, smiling. "I won't let
you."

"That's like saying you can control the
weather. You can't."

"I can control the weather, too."

I caught his grin and couldn’t help but smile.
Reluctantly.

"I know this is all new to you. I know
you're afraid." He pulled me against him, his arms around me, his hand
caught in my hair, his obvious erection pressed against my belly. He desired
me. He wanted me to know. To feel it.

Then, just when I thought he'd push me a bit, he
released me and returned to the couch, sitting in the middle once more. He
meant what he said. He wouldn’t force me to do anything. It would be my choice,
but with him being the way he was – so desirable, so powerful, so…
knowing
,
how could I resist him?

I stood in the kitchen for a moment, still
debating with myself. I pushed a few dishes around, pretending to wash a cup,
but finally, I gave up pretending to be busy and returned to the living room to
stand in front of him once more.

"Just theoretical, but if I was really your
sub-in-training, what would you normally do at this point?"

He examined me, briefly catching my eye.
"I'd suggest that you come and sit with me and we can talk some
more."

I sat on the edge of the couch, not touching
him, not looking at him, my hands crossed on my lap.

"Did you go to a Catholic school as a
child?"

I glanced up, frowning. "Yes. Why do you
ask?"

"You have very good posture. Your hands are
folded." He pointed to my clasped hands.

I glanced down at them and then unclasped them,
smiling a bit ruefully.

"Yes, they expected us to sit properly. The
nuns gave us the cane if we were
slovenly
in our dress or behavior."

He nodded. "A good Catholic school
upbringing.  Making uptight women out of excited little girls full of life
and promise. Only the really rebellious ones escaped with their libidos fully
intact."

"Yeah, the nuns really did a number on
us."

Then he patted his knee. "If you were
really my sub-in-training, I'd tell you to come closer. Sit on my lap. So why
don't you?"

I frowned. "Am I a child?"

"No," he said. "But I like to sit
close together at first. Just touching for a while with all our clothes on. If
you decide to stop at any time, you just have to get up. I won't prevent
you."

I stood up and moved a bit closer, standing
directly in front of him.

"How do I…"

He reached up and took my arms, pulling me down
on top of him so that I sat on his lap with my legs to the side, my arms around
his neck. It was far too close at first and I trembled a bit to feel his arms
slide around me, one arm around my waist, the other resting on my hip. I tried
to avoid looking in his eyes as much as possible, and he didn't push, but
finally I felt stupid and met his gaze, his blue eyes so gorgeous with those
thick dark lashes.

Oh
God..
.

He adjusted me a bit, grasping my hips and
moving me a couple of inches. My thigh pressed against his erection, which I
could tell was now hard as rock.

"Sorry," he said, grimacing a bit.
"You're pressing just a bit too hard on my…" He let his voice trail
off. He moved his hips beneath me. "That's better."

He wanted me to know he was aroused. I couldn’t
help but respond, closing my eyes as my flesh throbbed, a pleasant ache
building in me.

"You smell so good," he said,
breathing in. He slid one hand up my thigh and just let it rest on my hip.

"It's my perfume," I said. "It's
called
Mystique
."

"I wasn't referring to your perfume."

"Oh." I tensed. "Maybe I…" I
tried to get up, embarrassed that he could smell me but he stopped me.

"I
love
how you smell. Your female
scent and the thought of how wet you are makes me so
hard
."

He took my hand and pressed it against his
erection, sliding my fingers along its length so that I knew how hard and thick
he was. I couldn't help but imagine him filling me up.

That flustered me, and I felt caught between
wanting to run away from embarrassment and wanting to stay. Other than my own
arousal, a pleasant swollenness, a wetness between my thighs, butterflies in my
stomach, I was warm in his arms, comfortable nestled against his chest.

"So we just sit here like this?"

"Yes," he said, stretching out again,
his arms on the back of the couch. "We can just talk. With my new subs, I
always let them choose the time of our first fuck. If they want anything to
happen, they have to make the move. If they want me, all they have to do is
kiss me. But I warn them. If they do, I take that as a sign they want to fuck
me and I take over. I take control and I fuck them. If they change their mind,
they have to use a safe word. If they do, it all stops right then, and I go
home."

I relaxed just a bit, knowing that I had
ultimate control over whether and when we would fuck the first time. It would
be my choice.

He caught my eye for a brief moment.

"So be warned. Don't kiss me unless you
mean it." He held my gaze, grasping my chin when I tried to look away.
"I can sit here like this for as long as you want and talk if that's all
you want tonight. Sure, I'm hard as rock, but it will fade eventually if
nothing more happens. But if you
kiss
me, I'll take it to mean you want
me to fuck you. I'll take your clothes off and I'll eat you and then I'll fuck
you. I'm not a frat boy, Kate. I don't like to play games."

My cheeks heated at that and I stiffened.
"I thought you
liked
playing games. Isn't that what people in the
lifestyle call it? Playing?"

"
Fuck
games, Kate. Not emotional
games."

We sat like that for a few moments as his
warning sunk in, his arms on the back of the couch, me nestled against him, my
arms around his neck. He wasn't touching me. I was touching him. If anything
was going to happen, I had to make it happen.

And the thing was, I
wanted
it to happen.

He had me right where he wanted me. He knew
exactly how to manipulate me, knew what to say, how to get me to think and feel
the things he wanted me to think and feel.

He
was
a Master. I could see that now.

Sitting on his lap like that, his body warm
beneath mine, his shoulder muscles beneath the expensive white shirt solid
under my hands, his aftershave masculine, his slight male musk intoxicating.
His very large and very hard erection pressing against me was a reminder of how
aroused he was.

He was
mine
– this gorgeous
powerful man – if I wanted him. I had never felt this much lust for
someone and I felt almost out of control, my body warm, swollen, my breathing
shallow.

Yet, I had ultimate control. I decided if
anything happened. But I decided only if he would fuck me or not. Once I kissed
him, he'd take over and have his way with me.

He was right. I always felt guilt for wanting
sex. I always felt bad when I fantasized about sex with men I'd just met or
seen – like it was wrong for me to just feel horny. When I
did
have a boyfriend, even then, I couldn't really let go. Orgasms were so hard and
took so long because I always felt insecure, unsure if my noises and movements
and preferences would turn my lover off. Like how I was feeling – my
body's arousal – was somehow unsightly and offensive.

He
made me feel as if my body and my desire were
intoxicating to him. As if he knew what to do when it came time for sex. I
wouldn't have to worry.

All I had to do was kiss him and he'd take over.
If I didn't kiss him, we'd just talk and then, when it came time to leave, he'd
go.

"Why do your subs need a safe word if the
first time is just vanilla sex?"

"It's always good to have a safe word.
Things get passionate. Heavy. Hard. Fast. If I overwhelm the sub and she can't
handle it, I need to know. But Kate," he said and turned my face to his.
"Using red as a safe word isn't a request just to slow things down a bit
or to adjust things. It's a signal for a full-stop. Once they use it, it's
over. So I warn my subs not to use red unless they really are unable to go
on."

"What exactly do you mean by heavy?
Hard?"

"
Kate
…" He smiled indulgently,
as if I were a child. "Have you never had really passionate sex with a man
before? A little desperate? He's pounding into you from behind, grabbing your
hips, thrusting hard and fast?"

Oh,
God
… Those words and the thought of
how big he was made me clench.

I swallowed, my throat dry. I looked in his
eyes, and I could tell he was a bit amused at my inexperience, but even
his
cheeks were flushed. I took him in all at once as he leaned back against the
couch – his face so symmetrical, his jaw square with a day's growth of
whiskers, his eyes so blue and fringed with thick dark lashes. His mouth was
soft, his lips parted. His black hair a bit mussed, collar open, shirt undone
just enough to see his chest.

He was the most desirable man I'd ever seen.

"Red is a stoplight," he said.
"You say red, everything stops."

"How do I know you won't run a red
light?"

He closed his eyes and smiled. "Unlike
flyboy, I'm not into rape, Kate. Not even mock rape. If I do it, it's because
my sub needs it and asked for it." He opened his eyes again and now they
were so intense, his brows furrowed. "I can only get off with a woman who
wants it. Who wants
me
."

I stared at him. Everything inside of me, my body,
my emotions, my heart, was pushing me towards him. The only thing holding me
back was that annoying sense of propriety that my father and the nuns created
in me.