Little Dancer

“No.”

Dammit. But if him going easy on me means not feeling the way I do now, desired and precious and safe, then I suppose I don’t want him to.

“All right,” I whisper.

“All right what? Be specific.”

I lift my eyes to his. “All right, I want you to be my dom.”

He just looks at me. I can feel him breathing. He takes a slow glance around the restaurant, as if he’s thinking, and then back at me. He lowers his head to mine—he’s going to kiss me at last. I tilt my chin up.

Then he catches me by the throat and squeezes. His eyes turn flinty and his voice is hard with menace. “Do you know how much you displeased daddy when you marched into his office without asking yesterday?”

My heart plummets through my body. Oh, god. I did, didn’t I? I was incredibly rude to him. Rufus has never looked at me with such black fury before and I suddenly realize how serious this is. He’s livid, and I’ve just agreed to submit to him, no matter what.

Chapter Six

“Go and take your panties off and bring them to me.”

In the ladies bathroom I take my underwear off with a shaking hand and shove them into my purse. Standing at the mirror with the faucet running, I stare at my reflection. He wasn’t thinking when he was glancing around the restaurant. He was checking to see if anyone was looking. Crafty motherf-fudger.

When I come back to the table he’s paying the check, the waiter standing at his elbow. I slide in beside him, looking at the tablecloth. When we are alone he puts his hand on my thigh, palm up. “Give them to me.”

I take the balled up underwear from my purse and put them into his hand. He tucks them into his trouser pocket and escorts me out of the restaurant, holding me firmly by the hand.

Driving me home, he doesn’t say anything except to tell me my safe word, what it’s for, and getting me to repeat it back to him.

“What is your safe word?”

“Persephone.”

“What is it for?”

I swallow. I know that the word is for my protection, but it seems so daunting, needing to have one. “It’s for if ever I’m frightened of you, or if I’ve reached the limits of my pain tolerance. You’ll stop whatever you’re doing right away and do everything in your power to make me comfortable and happy again. You don’t ever want to make me say it, but it’s there for my safety should I need it.”

He nods, and turns into my street. Instead of pulling up outside my parents’ house he slides into a space behind a blue Audi and cuts the engine.

My heart starts hammering against my ribs. “What are you doing?”

He presses a button and his seat moves back, and then he points at his knee.

I stare at him. “Here?”

“Are you arguing with me?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say, Yes, I am damn well arguing with you. But I don’t. I agreed to this. And he’s not stupid, or indiscreet. I remember that glance around the restaurant. It’s past midnight and the street is dark and quiet, and he’s parked some distance from the nearest street lamp. Still, it’s light enough that anyone walking past could look in and see what’s happening.

I don’t have much choice in the matter, though, so I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide across his lap. It’s awkward and there isn’t much space. He solves that by pushing me down so that my face is near the brake pedal. I brace my hands against his shoes. He starts pulling my dress up to expose my bare behind. I squeeze my eyes shut. Okay, it’s bad, it’s embarrassing, but I can do this.

He holds me in place with one hand and reaches across to the glove box with the other. He fishes around in it for a moment. I hear the clink of metal and then he’s fastening something around my wrist.

My eyes fly open and I look at what he’s done. “You’re handcuffing me! Why are you handcuffing me?”

He snaps the cuff around my other wrist and I realize I can’t move. I need my arms to lever myself out of this tight space and he’s just locked them together. The cuffs aren’t the fluffy sort, either. They look real.

“Because I’m your dom, which means I’m in charge. This is what you agreed to, babygirl. Remember?”

I concentrate on my breathing, trying to calm myself. This is what I agreed to, and I want it. Even though my heart’s pounding I can feel the wetness between my legs.