Sweetest Mistress (Fem Dom 1)

I called myself that, and many other, more vulgar choice words, throughout the rest of the day. I ignored Melissa’s calls that evening, listening to her replay her innocent-sounding messages about meeting up late after work.

She missed me, she said. No, she had to get her claws into me. Hell, she had no reason to think she couldn’t. I’d been like putty in her hands until now. It was horrifying to think of just how far I’d fallen for her in the span of a couple of days.

When it was time to leave, I stalked to my car like a man on a mission. I had something to prove tonight, and it wouldn’t be pretty. At her apartment, the lights were dark. I knocked, but no one answered. Checking my phone, I replayed the message.

Hey, Wyle. I really enjoyed last night. I’m running a little late today, but I was thinking we could hang out after work. It’s cool if you’re busy. Call me.

Faithless bitch. Just like my ex-wife, squeezing me for every dime on her way out.

Headlights sprayed like spotlights in the sky as a car turned into the small parking lot. I recognized her silhouette as she emerged from the sedan, loaded down with a laptop bag and a stack of files. She clicked her way across the lot to her door. The shadows had engulfed me by this point, so when I said, “Hello, Melissa,” in a low, angry tone, she jumped.

“Shit, Wyle. You scared me.”

“Mmm,” was all I responded. Her lips that I’d once thought sexy were now full of lies. The downcast eyes now read as guilty. She was still sexy as hell, only I didn’t want to her. I didn’t want to want her anymore.

Juggling her files, she opened the door and went inside, leaving it open in obvious invitation. Like a lamb to the wolf, only this lamb wasn’t so innocent.

She was in the living room when I went in, dumping her stuff on the coffee table and kicking off her shoes. It was only as she tousled her hair and turned to me with a smile that she realized something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m good now,” I said. “And I’ll be even better soon.”

She smiled uncertainly. “Wyle, babe. Did you have a bad day at work? Want to tell me about it?”

I saw red. Her asking me about work as if she cared about me when all she cared about was the money it could bring her. Her calling me babe, though, that was the worst. Because I liked it and I wished it were true. What a crock of shit.

I struggled to control my breathing. I had to play this right. If I didn’t, if I lost control and let her see how badly I wanted her, she’d win.

“We’re going to play this one a little different, Melissa. I’m calling the shots tonight.”

Her eyes grew dark with heat. And acceptance. Fuck, if only she weren’t so sexy.

“Okay, Wyle. Whatever you want.”

Lies, lies. Whatever I wanted in bed maybe, because that’s what a whore did. Not what I really wanted, though, because I wanted her to be real.

“Strip.” I sneered, to punctuate that this would be different, to remind myself that no matter how beautiful or sweet she looked, it wasn’t for me. Not after tonight.

She glanced around the living room, then back at me. Then she unbuttoned her gray suit jacket and removed it, revealing a cream blouse. She pulled that off too, leaving a creamy lace bra. Thank God I’d told her to do it. She was wearing way too many damn clothes, and the way I was feeling, I’d have torn all that lace and silk into shreds. Plus it was sexy to watch her strip. Very hot librarian, or it would be if I didn’t know what she really was.

Next, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall at her feet. Her cream panties and bra, along with her beige stockings, painted her with nude, giving the illusion she was naked, until you looked closely. Then I could see the dark of her nipples through the lace.

She pulled off her thigh-high stockings and panties, then her bra.

Totally naked, she stood before me. Her pose was shy and seductive, but only one of those were true.

I hated it. I wanted to punish her.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

She did. I walked over to her, knowing she’d expect me to touch her or fuck her. But I stuck my hand into the silky strands of her dark hair and yanked back.

“Crawl,” I said, giving her only a second to digest the order before I pulled her hair along with me toward the bedroom. She whimpered but complied, crawling along the carpet. In the bedroom I gave her head a harsh shake before releasing her, telling her to stay there.

Chapter Six

My conscience wanted to intrude, to tell me to calm down, to not be so rough, but I couldn’t. Somehow this was worse than the months of lame-ass dates or even the drawn out divorce battle, because I’d really liked her. And I’d get my strip of skin before I left to make up for it.