Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline 1)

“Sit,” he barked. He let go of her hair and pointed at the wooden chair against the wall.

She sat, not happy about the delay. “Typical male. You act like you want to have sex, then waste time running your mouth.”

“Cut the sass.” He frowned at her, and the implied “or else’” made her squirm in her seat. “We need to discuss limits before we go any further. We should have talked about them before now, but I couldn’t be sure if you were honestly interested or if you were just fucking with me.”

Good. Her grin didn’t seem to please him, and the thought that he might put her over his knee to teach her a lesson had her fantasizing about it.

“Do you have any experience with kink?”

She sighed, then rattled through her list. “Yes. My hard limits are everything illegal, bodily waste, hardcore humiliation, needle and blood play, hard slaps to the face, and spankings.”

“No spankings?” His eyes were sharp.

She’d hit a nerve and it made her want to giggle, but she knew better. “I was kidding about the spanking part.”

“Hmm. I would have been disappointed. You desperately need spankings.”

“Not just one?”

“I doubt one would do the trick, even if I broke my hand on your ass.”

She raised her brows. “I take it you’re dominant.”

“Give the girl a prize. I’m dominant, but not a Dominant. I don’t do the collaring thing.”

“I don’t need more jewelry. And your limits?”

“They’re similar to yours. Considering this is you I’m talking to, I expect a bit of sass, but I won’t tolerate a lot of mouthing off in bed. Playfulness is fine, but there’s a line.”

Oh, and how she wanted to explore his lines.

She nodded, letting him know she understood. Although she’d do her best to behave, considering how he kept making her feel, she figured the urge to give him a hassle would disappear fast. She had a sinking suspicion he could convince her to be a very good girl.

“You should pick a safeword,” he said the intensity in his eyes making her avert her gaze until she could calm down enough not to shake.

“Let’s go with ‘zombie.’”

“‘Zombie’?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Well, I hate boring safewords.” She smiled at him, hoping she looked calm and sexy rather than like a bitch in heat. “And I hope you turn me into a sex zombie, so I won’t even think of using my safeword.”

A diabolical grin lit his handsome face. “Fair enough.”

He went to the large, mysterious oak cabinet and opened it. From the length of time he stared into it, she wondered how much crap he had in there. She sat impatiently on the chair, feeling pretty damned naked even with the panties still on. Was it safe to get up? She didn’t want to disobey him, but edgy impatience filled her, and sitting still was feeding into her anxiety . . . but the bastard probably knew that.

One by one, he tossed an array of implements and bindings—crops of different sizes, rope, padded handcuffs, even a large vibrator—onto the bed. The sheer number of items made her hope he was messing with her. Maybe she should have put mind fucks on her hard limit list.

When he finally closed the cupboard doors and turned to look at her, there was a gleam of satisfaction in his gaze.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice almost a purr. “You stayed where I put you.”

Her stupid, traitorous cheeks heated again. For some reason, every time he called her a good girl it made her melt. One of her exes, Mike, had used that term sometimes, but the way he’d said it had given the impression she was in for a pat on the head and maybe a treat. When Fox said it, there was an implied promise of painfully intense orgasms.

“Have you ever done edging?”