Dare to be Naughty (Masters Club 3.50)

Oh, god. What if he did ask her to do that?

Don’t anticipate. Just obey. She tried not to fidget. Deep breath in…let it out…

“Now, without moving from that position, and without stopping to think about it, tell me your most private sexual fantasy. The one you’ve never told anyone, not your lover, not anybody. That thing that pushes you over the edge when you’re masturbating. Don’t think about it too much. Just start talking.”

Okay. Wait just a second here. Baring her body was one thing. She was reasonably comfortable with herself and had never been particularly shy. But did he really expect her to reveal her darkest secrets just like that?

She very nearly blurted, “Only if you go first, dude,” but caught herself in time.

You can do this, she reminded herself. “Don’t forget, Hayden’s made it clear he knows what he’s doing when it comes to BDSM. If you want to go to the party, this is what it takes.

And she really wanted to go to that party, now more than ever. She would gain entrance to a dark, secret world she’d thought only lived in the pages of novels. And anyway, surely her little sexual fantasies would be nothing to a guy like Hayden. He probably hadn’t only heard it all—he’d probably done it all, as well.

She closed her eyes, trying to forget for the moment that Hayden was even in the room. She took a deep breath and then plunged in. “I wake up in the middle of the night and realize my wrists and ankles have been tied to the bedposts. I open my mouth to scream and a large, hard hand clamps over my mouth. My eyes fly open. A strange man is looming over me.”

The scenario unspooled in her mind’s eye, her panties moistening in a Pavlovian response to the well-worn but still effective fantasy. The handsome mystery man exuded a dark, edgy sexuality that both thrilled and frightened her. The terrifying glint of his knife in the moonlight, his warning not to move or she’d regret it, the feel of his hand on her throat, the bonds tight at her wrists and ankles, his hard, thick cock entering her…

“Go on,” Hayden prompted.

“He tells me not to move. Not to scream. Then he, uh…”

Man, this was harder than she’d expected. Maybe she’d said enough? “He has his way with me,” she concluded in a rush of words.

Hayden’s bark of a laugh startled her. Dahlia dropped her hands from her head, her eyes flying open in indignation.

“What?” she demanded, ignoring for the moment the requirement to only speak when spoken to. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Come on, Dahlia,” he said, his eyes dancing. “‘Had his way with me?’ Who under the age of seventy actually talks that way?” He shook his head. “Seriously. You started out with honesty, telling me about a very compelling fantasy that clearly has meaning for you. But then something happened, and you closed yourself off. So, let’s try this again. This time, I want the truth. Unvarnished, uncensored, raw and real. From your gut, not your brain.”

“But…” She trailed off, unable to refute his accusation. Heat licked not only over her face, but everywhere. Her entire body, it seemed, was blushing.

His expression gentling, Hayden got to his feet and approached her. He reached for her arms, lifting them to place her hands back on her head. The position and his proximity made her feel both terribly vulnerable and deeply aroused. Was it possible to feel both things at once?

Then he took her face gently between his hands as he stared down into her eyes. She stared back, her nipples throbbing, her sex aching. Her lips parted of their own accord, her entire being yearning for his kiss.

But instead of pressing those beautiful lips to hers, he said softly, “Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Dahlia. I’ve shared more with you about my lifestyle away from work than I ever have with someone not in the scene. I’ve trusted you with that. Can you trust me back, just a little? Can you accept that I make no judgments, and that I mean it when I say there is no right and wrong here? Feelings aren’t actions, and fantasies are just that—fantasies.”

He let her go, taking a step back. Involuntarily, she leaned forward, her skin still tingling from his touch, her unkissed lips feeling the lack.

He returned to the couch and resumed his seat. “I get it,” he said. “You’re not used to being so vulnerable with someone. If this is too hard, we can end—”

“No,” she blurted, determined not to let him call this off, resolved not to blow it. “I can do this. I want to do this. Please…Sir.”

“All right. Good. We’ll continue. Close your eyes again, and this time, just let it flow.”