Good Girls Say Yes - Page 45

“And how exactly am I going to work while I’m here?”

Matthew lays me back so we can see each other face to face. “Just like we talked about. We’ll set time limits. For a certain amount of time each day, you’ll be my publicist and not my submissive, and the rest of the time I get to do what I like with you.”

I think about that. About staying here, being with him, submitting to him all the time. How would that be? Do I really want that? The little voice that’s been whispering doubts in my mind the past few days is roaring now, telling me that if I leave I’m a fucking idiot who would be walking away from the best thing that’s ever happened. But I don’t want to be forced into it, so I have a final question.

“And if I really did want to leave? If I said no to the money but no to the month too?”

His face is guarded, but he doesn’t hesitate. “Then you can leave whenever you like. Do you want me to call the car?”

I let myself drift between the decisions for a moment. And I know. I know that if I walk away, I’ll always regret it. I shake my head, “No. I want to stay.”

He kisses me so fast it makes my head spin. “You have no idea how much I wanted you to say that.”

“I’m not going to make it easy on you,” I say. “I’m not just going to be a good girl.”

The smirk is back. “That’s what makes it fun. If I never got to punish you I’d be disappointed.” He kisses me again, silencing a retort that probably would have started off a round of punishments. “Now,” he says, “before we go sign those papers, we’ll be starting that other rule we talked about.”

“What other rule?” I can’t help but notice that he’s hard behind me, and I have no doubt that it has something to do with this rule.

“That every morning before you leave my bed, my cock will be in your mouth. It’s the only way to start the day off right.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He sighs with faux drama. “I’m afraid it is.”

“Are you going to let me have my hands?” I ask, raising my cuffed wrists.

“And make it easy on you? Not a chance.”

“Sadist,” I mutter under my breath.

Matthew weaves his fingers in my hair, tilting my head back so that we’re eye to eye. “Maybe a little bit, now get down there and suck my cock before I have to punish you for disobedience.” He kisses me, and god, I’ll be damned but the thought of getting punished is turning me on now.

I smile at him when he lets me go. “Yes, Master.” And I sink down underneath the sheets.

Sixteen

Thirty Days Later

It’s the last day. Neither of us have said anything about it, but we both know that tomorrow is the day that the bet ends. We haven’t talked about what happens, and I haven’t wanted to. The last month has seemed like a dream, and I don’t think I want to wake up. In fact, all of this has been more like waking up. Like everything before was muddled and hard and this has been bright and easy and perfect.

I’m kneeling in the playroom, naked and waiting. It’s been awhile, but I’ve learned to wait. Matthew was right, the pose doesn’t hurt after you get used to it, and it’s actually become relaxing. Almost centering. How I got here, I don’t think I’ll ever know, but deciding to embrace submission suddenly feels like being able to breathe. There’s freedom in being able to let go and let Matthew take the lead. Just like he described when he was talking about the life he wanted with a sub, we’ve found our way, experimenting with boundaries and how much control works for us.

The door opens, and my heart starts to beat faster. He walks over to our chair—the same chair he held me in on that first day—and sits. “Come over here, Emma.”

I stand and move, kneeling at his feet. It’s all so new, but I’m still amazed at how natural this feels. Matthew leans forward and tilts my face up, giving me permission to raise my head. “I think we need to talk, and right now we’re not talking as Dom and sub.”

“Yeah,” I say, my throat dry.

“You know what tomorrow is.”

I laugh nervously. “The date is pretty much burned in my brain.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

Shifting, I draw myself closer together, suddenly feeling the urge to hide. “I don’t know.”

He pulls at my hands covering my breasts. “Stop. You know how I feel when you try to hide.” I drop my hands. “You’re nervous?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

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