The Dom Identity (Masters & Mercenaries Reloaded 2)

She expected him to tell her she would have to earn one with good behavior and that eventually they would get there. She expected him to go back to the contract and go over the details.

“Would you like one now?”

Her brain went a little foggy, and all she could do was stare at him for a moment. She should tell him she needed time, needed some space and wasn’t comfortable letting a stranger touch her.

But suddenly she wanted him to. He was exactly her type. Tall, dark, and handsome. Charming and open. Seemingly kind. What would it hurt? It could help her enormously, and in more ways than one.

“Yes.”

A slow smile spread across that handsome face. “Why don’t you come sit on my lap and we can begin.”

Chapter Three

Was she actually going through with this?

She tried to think about the goal she wanted to accomplish, but she couldn’t even trick herself into believing she was only doing this to further the mission.

It had been three years since she’d been touched in any way sexually, and that had been more about comfort than pleasure. How long had it been since she’d had this thrill of anticipation running through her veins? Since she felt her body heat at the thought of someone touching her?

This was a huge mistake.

But then she’d read the contract, and Michael’s explanations made sense. The Club was about exploring sexuality. Nicki had found herself here. Vanessa didn’t expect that, but she might be able to figure out if her body was simply defective or if she could relax long enough to find something other women took for granted.

She glanced at the two-way mirror and was surprised that she’d momentarily forgotten it was there.

Michael was watching her, his eyes like emeralds as he sat back, completely relaxed. “They won’t be able to see what I’m doing. It’s one of the reasons I sat on this side of the table. They’ll be able to hear us, but they won’t have a line of sight. It’s all right if you’re scared, but pushing boundaries is what this is all about.”

She took a deep breath, thinking about what he’d said, and then asked the question that truly frightened her. The question that kept her in her seat instead of taking him up on his offer like any sane single hetero woman likely would. “What if I can’t?”

“Can’t?”

She nodded.

“Vanessa, if you can’t say the word, you likely can’t do it.”

He was frustrating, but he had a point. She wasn’t some prissy prude. She’d worked hard not to be what her mother had taught her to be. She’d swung too far the other way, and that hadn’t worked out for her either.

“What if I can’t come?”

“Do you come when you masturbate?” Michael asked.

“I don’t do that…I don’t masturbate very often,” she admitted. “I find it frustrating, so I don’t try.”

“I would bet it’s hard because you can’t turn your brain off. So let’s try an exercise, if you want to,” he offered. “Or we can go over the contract and talk some more.”

She was so tired of being afraid. Afraid of what would happen if she stepped even an inch out of line. Afraid of the press. Afraid she was everything they said she was.

Afraid she was old before her time, and that she would live the next forty or fifty years without any peace at all.

This wouldn’t bring her peace, but it might bring her pleasure.

There is power in submission, and I feel strong for once in my fucking life.

Her sister had written those words shortly after she’d begun her training. In her journals, she’d talked about the freedom she’d found in this place and how it had begun with the simple step of giving herself permission to try.

Vanessa stood and moved around the big conference table. Michael pushed back, allowing her to move closer. She wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do, but wasn’t that kind of the point?

What if the press found out she was involved in a sex club? She could see that headline play out.

“What are you afraid of now?” Michael asked, every word patient and kind.

“That people will know,” she whispered.

“Will know that you have a top? That he gave you an orgasm? I assure you confidentiality is in that contract, and even if you don’t trust me, you can absolutely believe that Julian will murder anyone who breaks it. He’ll do it quietly, and no one will ever question him.”

That’s what Julian would do to her at the end of this, but Michael was right. He wouldn’t want his club and his wife linked to her in the press, so she was probably safe.

She moved in, settling herself awkwardly on his lap, one arm around his shoulders to balance her.

Up close she could see the fine lines around his eyes. This was a man who smiled often. She had the sudden urge to run her fingers through his hair to see if it was as soft as it looked. She didn’t, remaining still and somewhat stiff as he wrapped an arm around her waist.