Truth or Dare (The Dominator 2)

I resisted the urge to sigh. I really had hoped he’d just keep me here until it was time to leave. It felt like if I left this room that things could go wrong.

“Come,” he took my hand and led me out to the balcony.

He shut the doors and got close to my ear, making my whole body prickle with sensation, “We have a game to play tonight,” he whispered. My nipples tingled at the proximity, at his breath on my throat, at those words, “I don’t wanna but fucking scumbags,” he said really softly, so softly I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly. I frowned.

I looked up at him and nodded, not sure what he meant but wanting him to be pleased with me.

He gave me a small sad smile and put his hand on my face again. God, when he did that it gave me shivers.

“So, we’re taking a walk, I take it?” He smiled at me and then lifted a lock of my hair and examined it.

“Much better wild,” he said.

I smiled, sort of surprised, “I wore both. So whatever pleases you, Master.”

“I’ll change. We’ll do both.”

I was glad he wanted to walk rather than take me to a public area here. I was also glad for the physical contact. It helped me put things into context. Him telling me he was pleased, touching me, it helped me be who I needed to be. It’d be nice to again get as far away from the building as possible. Our walk last night was the farthest I’d been from the building since arriving here. And if I didn’t screw it up tomorrow I’d be on a plane. A plane away from here. My heart wanted to leap with joy and hope. It didn’t. It knew better.

He stepped back inside and I followed. I watched him grab a few articles of clothing from the closet and head to the bathroom. A few minutes later he emerged in a pair of navy blue board shorts and a tan tank top and brown leather thong flip flops. He looked gorgeous. I could practically count his abs, which I already knew from earlier were an 8-pack, through his tight shirt. His arms were cut, chiseled, inkless, beautiful. He grabbed a pair of sunglasses from his bag in the closet and took my hand and we were off. His hand was warm, strong. I felt twinges in my nipples.

When we were as far away from the buildings as we could get before hitting the fence line he sat on the sand just near the shore, put his feet in the water, and patted beside himself. I sat.

“We’re leaving right after breakfast in the morning,” he said and for the first time since he got here I think his face held no anger. He was beautiful.

I nodded, feeling my heart swell. The breeze blew my hair into my face so I pushed it out of the way and the way he was looking at me, I couldn’t help it but I think I dared to actually hope a little.

“Tonight they’re insisting I attend a dinner and I don’t want you at my feet but it’s what they expect. And I don’t feel good about leaving you in the room alone for that length of time.” The anger crept back over his features.

I nodded, thrilled that being at his feet was not something he’d expect going forward but feeling cautious at his expression.

“I get the impression it might get …” his face went sour, “sordid.”

I nodded, totally confused. Of course it would get sordid. It usually did. Wasn’t that why he was here? I mean, some of the patrons were more exhibitionists and voyeurs than others, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for me to attend to someone who was more private about their sexuality but with him being a partner’s son I guess I was a little surprised that this didn’t seem to be all second nature to him.

“Has it been terrible?” He took my hand and rubbed his fingertips across the back of it.

I opened my mouth and wasn’t sure how to answer from my heart because I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of digging in there in a long long time and didn’t dare go there now for fear doing that would screw this up for me so I said, “If I get to leave with you at the end of it, I’d do it again.”

He frowned at me and then shook his head. His eyes were the color of the sea. He had a handsome strong jawline, a perfect nose. His shoulders were large and muscular. And his hair looked soft; it was in his eyes a little. I ached to touch it, to brush it away from his eyes with my fingers. I couldn’t cross that line, though. I looked away, needing to guard my emotions so just stared out at the water but could feel that his eyes stayed on me.

“Build a sandcastle with me,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

I was speechless.

“C’mon,” he gave me a little smile and plopped his sunglasses on and then got onto his knees and started pulling wet sand toward us into a mound.

I was like a deer in the headlights.

“You gonna help or what?” he flashed a big smile and I think my heart stopped.

“I… I don’t know how.”

“I’ll be back. Wait here,” he said and took off jogging toward the grounds where he stopped one of the gardeners. I sat, flabbergasted. I was still in his sights but we were far apart. It was weird to be sitting here in the sand alone. I’d never been so far away from a handler or patron. It felt weird and not in a g

ood way. I felt vulnerable, at risk. I felt like I was gonna climb out of my own skin. His shoes were in the sand beside me. I stared at them, focusing, his shoes are here so he’ll be back. He’ll come back. I clutched my bare throat and took slow breath after slow breath.

Thankfully a minute later he was back.