Secrets & Submission

ELLA

The Firm will work with the client to arrange for the deployment of partners with best endeavors to conduct the offered services. All personnel is at the client’s discretion.

Everything about this moment was intentional. From the way the skirt lays across the sofa, to how I loosely tie the wrap top to show off a little more cleavage.My long-sleeved cotton dress with a floral print in fall tones is new.

Some of the other details may have been for a photo op with Kamden, like actually applying makeup and false lashes. He’s just left, snapping a quick picture before leaving through the back door as Zander strode in. But all of it, I chose with him in mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to dress up and look pretty. Even longer since I thought of a man while doing it.

“You look gorgeous.” Zander’s statement catches me by surprise. There’s nothing guarded about it. My blush rises up my cheekbones and burns at my temples. The things this man does to me is heady.

“Thank you,” I whisper, still taken aback as he takes a seat across from me in our blue room of sexual tension. It’s what I’ve dubbed it now that I’ve spent more time in this room with him playing with fire, than I’ve been in this room with anyone else since purchasing the home years ago.

“You cut it … and it’s lighter.” The manner in which he gives his observation is comical and offers me a warmth I’ve missed since I told him to sleep well before going to bed last night.

I shrug, as if this all isn’t for him, and say, “Blonds have more fun.”

“Hmm.” His hum is approving, yet questioning all at once. “You’re happy with it?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Then I approve,” he tells me and I suck in a breath, ready to toy with him. To let him know his approval is irrelevant and I wasn’t aiming for it. I’m certain it would get under his skin and he’d flex that hand of his as he did the other night. Before I can usher out a word, Zander takes his normal seat with a seriousness that silences me.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans and a matching tee, but there’s something different about the air around him tonight. With his thumb moving over each finger, he cracks his knuckles and tells me, “It’s been two weeks. I believe there are benchmarksyou could meet so long as we establish boundaries …”

“Boundaries?” I repeat, lifting a challenging brow. I didn’t expect him to pick up the conversation right where we left off. Typically he offers me more foreplay than this.

“Yes. And since we’re being blunt, I expect you to behave. I expect you to listen to me. Is that clear?” Heat rises through me. Before I can tease him, asking what I’d get out of it, he adds, “I will ensure you are rewarded justly.”

“Justly?” I echo the word, feeling suffocated. It’s hard to imagine this is happening. That it’s real life, this man across from me promising me things only one other man has before. It took ages for James to take me in. Years of occasional fucks, which were enjoyable, but casual, before either of us decided we wanted more. Before we … got together like this. My throat is dry with the memory but Zander’s steady voice commands my attention.

“I need you to agree to that. To listen to me.”

“Ever the Dominant, to speak of your needs.” I utter the word out loud, so there is nowhere to hide any longer.

“Ever the submissive, to require a strong hand.”

Barely breathing, I admit with humor, “I am a people pleaser.”

His hum of acknowledgment holds a tone of sarcasm. “Why do I think that only applies to some people?”

“That I am selective with who I please?” I ask to clarify, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. He nods and my bottom lip slips between my teeth as I attempt to recall what my dream was this morning. So I can tell him exactly how I’d like to please him.

“One time my friend told me to have some dignity. She thought sex wasn’t a morally neutral act,” I comment, reeling in the dangerous tension and focusing on the ends of the throw blanket that have frayed over time.

His eyes narrow and I’m not certain if it’s because he disagrees with my statements or not. Either way, I focus on picking barely perceptible lint from the blanket and wait for him to say anything at all. I wait for him to tell me what to do. To establish terms. I wait for him.

“Your rewards will be varied. As will your obligations.”

“Is that so?” I push back. I only hesitate for a half second before questioning, putting out the word for both of us to hear it in no uncertain terms, “You can’t be my Dom, wouldn’t that break the rules? It would breach the contract.”

“I have no intention of fucking you while under contract,” Zander states firmly, although his cock already straining against his zipper tells me he wants to. “That doesn’t mean I can’t punish you, that I can’t reward you.”

“Zander,” I say, and I hope he can hear it in my voice. The temptation, yet at the same time, the caution.

“If you want to give me your submission, I will take care of you. I will help you. I will give you everything you need and more.” I’m floored. I’ve never told a soul. What James and I had … I’d never shared with anyone. Questions batter me, but I obey, gripping the blanket and accepting that Zander knows more than what I’ve told him. More than what I’ve told anyone.

It’s a sin to fall so deeply into the depths of desire like this. To blindly want, and devour every promise with such greed. And yet here I am. Wanting nothing but this.

“I’m scared,” I admit to him and he repositions himself, his fingers intertwining as if he needs to hold on to them to keep from touching me.