The Dom Identity (Masters & Mercenaries Reloaded 2)

He tightened his hold. She was petite in his arms and absolutely no problem for him physically. He could carry her weight all day and not notice the difference. She was easy to manhandle, so he didn’t have to put her down to grab his kit. “Asshole isn’t your safe word.”

“No, but it describes you.”

The fact that she didn’t spit out her safe word reenforced his belief that she needed this. That safe word was magical. It meant they could work this out the way they needed to. She could yell at him and release all her anger while getting the attention she also needed. They could play out this scene that might help them process the emotions they brought out in each other in a safe way. She could tell him no, let him feel all the negativity the day brought out without really pushing him away because that one word would stop everything.

“I’m sure it does, but I’m still your Dom, and you’re going to show me some respect when we’re playing.”

“I’m not playing with you,” she argued.

“Then what exactly do you think we’re doing?”

“I’m using you the way you used me.”

Is that what she thought she was doing? That was almost certainly what she thought he’d done. He had this time to prove her wrong, to be the Dom she needed him to be. “Then I’ll have to make sure you get what you need.”

He used his free hand to slide the zipper of his kit open and extract the first item he would need.

Handcuffs.

“You can’t give me anything but an orgasm,” she replied.

He intended to give her so much more. He set her on her feet, and before she had the chance to step back, he had her wrists in his hands and the cuffs clicked on in a heartbeat. “I assure you, I’ll give you more than one.”

He gripped the chain that connected the cuffs and tugged.

“Are we going to the playroom?” She only resisted a bit, as though she had to show him how she felt in every movement of her body.

There were still things she didn’t know about this place she’d lived in for the last two weeks. “I don’t have to. I can take care of you wherever we go. You should know I’ll always find a way.”

He brought her to one corner of the room. It was a seemingly empty space, but he touched a button and a lever sprang from the wall. It had been professionally done so it could hold her weight. If anyone else looked at it, they might see a holder for a hanging plant.

But it was all about restraining a sub. He’d measured and recalibrated it for Vanessa’s height, though they hadn’t played with it yet. They’d spent their time in this room in bed, fucking for hours and exploring each other’s bodies.

“What the hell is that?” Vanessa seemed determined to put a curse word in every sentence.

He brought her hands up and hooked them over her head. He’d gotten that height perfect because she was on her toes. He wanted her on the edge of discomfort, to have to dance around to keep her balance. What it did for him was place her whole body on gorgeous display. He put his hand around her neck. “That is the way I keep you where I want you. You look gorgeous.”

“I don’t give a damn what you think.” Those glorious eyes flashed fire.

At least she wasn’t quiet. He could take her anger, but not her silence. “You don’t have to care, but you do have to obey. I gave you an order and you did not comply. Before we can start, you have to accept your punishment.”

“I don’t have to accept anything from you.” But her eyes stayed on him.

And she still wasn’t close to her safe word.

He slapped her ass. Not an easy slap. She didn’t need that from him. She needed dominance. She needed to get through this first night and reset in the morning. He smacked her ass again.

“Fuck.” She gritted her teeth, tears in her eyes. “Do it again.”

“You don’t tell me what to do in this space. In any other space you can direct everything we do, but here, I’m the king.” He pulled at the back of her panties, tugging them between the cheeks of her ass and drawing them high. It forced her right on her toes. “I told you to take these off. I told you not to wear them when you’re in our home.”

“It’s not my fucking home, Michael.”

He tugged on the panties, knowing damn well when he manipulated them the fabric rubbed against her clit. He could already smell her arousal. “That little place in the suburbs isn’t your home.”

“I don’t fucking have one. I never did.” She practically snarled the words.