The question was poised on the tip of my tongue when he opened the door and I began to ask it, but then stopped, winded by the sight of him.
‘Why did…ohhhh.’
He smacked a riding crop on a leather-clad thigh, his eyes flashing. He was the full-bore Dom fantasy – long and lean and all in black, from the silk shirt to the riding boots.
‘This works for you?’ he asked, taking a surreptitious glance at himself in the mirrors and smoothing back his already smoothed-back hair.
‘Oh, I think so,’ I breathed, trying to keep my legs from buckling. ‘But what’s this?’ I indicated myself.
‘Aha,’ he said, holding out a hand.
I took it and found myself twisted around and wrapped up against him, my back to his front, his arms tight around my middle, my head leaning on his shoulder, while we looked at ourselves in the wall of glass.
‘Look at us,’ he whispered, his lips against my ear. ‘Dark and light. Good and evil. Innocence and experience. Don’t you think the contrast makes it hotter?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered back. ‘I could just look at us like this for hours. I want to take a photograph. I’m not sure why you’re calling me innocent, though.’
He rubbed the riding crop up and down one of my stockinged legs.
‘Neither am I,’ he admitted. ‘But I wanted to see you in something that wasn’t black. I wanted you out of your comfort zone, all sweet and helpless and at my mercy.’ His voice was low now and cracking with desire as his hot breath bathed my ear. His fingers closed around
my wrists and I winced reflexively, even though the bruises from Keane’s cuffs had cleared up over a week ago.
Tom loosened his grasp and tilted my face so that our eyes met properly, not just in reflection. His face, so devilish seconds earlier, was sober and his eyes searching.
‘I know what you went through with Keane has changed you,’ he said softly. ‘But I won’t let him take away something you love. Something we both love. I won’t let him ruin submission for you. But I know you might need lots of time, so please tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable. Tell me straightaway. Will you?’
I nodded, swallowing. I loved him more than I could possibly say, and I wanted to show him how much.
‘If this is freaking you out, we can leave any time.’
‘It isn’t freaking me out. You don’t freak me out,’ I said.
He smiled, a little wistfully.
‘Not even a tiny bit?’
I elbowed him in the ribs.
‘You mean you want to?’
He shook his head, his sad smile now a broad grin.
‘I have to admit, I kind of like playing the big bad man. But not if it reminds you of a certain real-life big bad man.’
‘You could never remind me of him.’ I took a breath, wondering if I should say it, then I let it go and spilled the words out regardless. ‘I want you to take control of me now. I want you to do whatever you want to me. I know I can trust you.’
He made an incoherent noise that I hoped was positive. The way his eyes shone guided me to that conclusion.
‘Oh, Foxy,’ he whispered, shutting them for an ineffable moment. ‘What have I done to deserve you?’
He pressed his mouth to mine; the kiss that followed was warm, then hot, then steam-inducing.
‘Plenty,’ I said. ‘What am I going to do to deserve you? What are you going to make me do?’
‘OK,’ he said, snapping from starry-eyed to masterful in the time it took him to step back and hold me at arm’s length. ‘Let’s choose equipment. To the cupboard, quick march.’
I didn’t actually march, but I skipped to the hidden door, eager to show my enthusiasm for what we were doing.