He puffed up a little at the praise. Couldn’t help it. “I have my moments.”
“So what’s next, O Wise One?”
“Brat.” He nudged her with his elbow, and she giggled. “You got Marty lined up to take your surveillance classes while we’re gone?”
“He’s all set.”
“Okay, good. Let’s stop by your room and pack the stuff you think we’ll need for our gig. Then we’ll go home and play unwrap the sub. And I’m not talkin’ sandwich.”
“And just think — we get to play on company time!”
“Lucky us.” He liked this easygoing, flirtatious side of her. He could get used to it, real fast.
In her room, he helped gather an assortment of clothing while she picked a few wigs and plenty of makeup. Everything went into three plastic totes, lids snapped on and ready to go. He carried two of them, Emma the last one, and they were on their way.
“You’ve got a ton of supplies here.”
“Never know what kind of disguise we’ll need. It’s best to have an assortment of identities that can blend into almost any situation.”
He knew this, but it was cool to see her confident, in her element. It was a far cry from the vulnerable lady who trembled under his touch, and he loved both sides of her.
“What sort of disguise do you envision for our role as master and sub when we infiltrate Dietz’s group of backers?”
She eyed him in speculation. “I’ve been thinking of enhancement rather than full-out change. Like I mentioned before, I’m going to lighten your hair, give it some autumnal tints. Too bad I’ll have to disguise those amazing golden eyes with blue contacts, though. For me, colored contacts, as well, and hair extensions woven in so it appears real and won’t come off if somebody yanks my head.”
“Simple is best, I suppose. Just don’t cut my hair.”
“You’ve mentioned that before. I love it long, but what’s the big deal?” she asked, curious.
“Nothing. I like it shoulder length, that’s all.” A painful memory shoved to the fore, and he beat it down again.
“From your expression, I think there’s more.”
He shrugged. “Maybe another time, okay?”
Thankfully, she dropped the subject, and the trip back to his house progressed with easy conversation. As well as a heightened awareness that they’d soon begin her training in earnest. It meant so much to him that she wasn’t just doing this for the job anymore. She wanted to learn, and he couldn’t wait to get started.
She was his.
After stashing the boxes in his garage, they went inside, and he paused in the kitchen, pulling her into his arms and stealing a kiss. A long, slow one that tightened all the right places. “You taste good. At the risk of sounding horribly cliche, I wanna lick you like a piece of stick candy.”
A hand slid around and squeezed his ass. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Mmm, tempting. Business first, however.” Darn it.
“Party pooper.”
“Will a beer or a glass of wine make it all better?”
“Not
“You’ve got it.”
Kissing her cheek, he let go and checked the countertop wine rack, pulling out a bottle. “A nice cabernet?” He held up the bottle for her inspection.
“Wonderful. You know just what I need.”
“Exactly what I’m counting on, sweet thing,” he said, giving her a grin, which she returned. They both knew he wasn’t referring to wine. He opened the bottle, poured a glass for her, and fetched a beer from the fridge for himself. “Come sit down and let’s relax while we can.”
God knows they wouldn’t get much downtime in the next few days or weeks. His lifestyle was intense under normal circumstances. Add an undercover op to the mix and you had a recipe for exhaustion, stress, and sensory overload.
Drawing her down onto the sofa next to him, he tucked her into his side, and they sipped their drinks companionably for a few minutes, just enjoying the closeness. He wondered how to best broach the subject most on their minds, but Emma dove in first.
“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship before?” she asked curiously, swirling her wine in the glass.
Some of the tension left him. This was an easy one. “Never have, not that I haven’t wanted one. Who really wants to be alone forever, right? But it’s tough to find the special person to whom you can honestly say, ‘Good Lord, where have you been, you awesome goddess? Stay with me and rock my world, and we’ll make little goddesses someday.’”
She giggled. “You’re so full of crap. I’ll bet you’ve had a posse of women who’ve tried to bag you.”
“You’d be wrong. They always find a fatal flaw and run screaming.”
“I’m sorry I did that to you,” she said, sobering. “I don’t want to be like everyone else.”
“Never believe you are, baby. You’re here and they aren’t.”
“I hurt you.” Her hand stroked his thigh, giving him shivers.
“We both did a bang-up job on each other on that score, so let’s call it even.”
She was silent for a few moments, and he waited, letting her take all the time she needed to form her questions. The last thing he wanted was to start spouting rules right away and scare or alienate her.
“So, how heavy are you into the whips and chains thing? Where do you draw the line?” she asked cautiously. “The truth — not some sugarcoated version you think I want to hear.”
“Of course not.”This was a good start. “My personal taboos are the extreme fetishes — I don’t engage in blood or knife play, golden showers, scat, or bestiality. I’m sure you already knew I wouldn’t participate in any of those scenes, but I like to be perfectly clear. No fake death scenes, either, like asphyxiation. None of those are sexy, and some are downright dangerous.”
Her jaw fell open. “People really do those things? I don’t tend to think of myself as overly naive, but sheesh!”
“Many Doms and subs are into the extreme stuff. It’s not urban legend. There are entire communities built around just about any flavor you want. Me, I was never into being frightened or humiliated.” God knows he’d gotten enough of both growing up, despite his uncle’s efforts to intervene.
“But how did you avoid placing yourself in harm’s way? You told me you started out as a sub, so you didn’t have any say in what was done to you, right?” Her tone was horrified at the prospect.
“That’s a common misconception.” Scooting around to face her, he placed a hand over hers in reassurance. “Everyone has to know their own boundaries, what they’re willing to explore in BDSM, or at least be willing to find out. From there, a sub is introduced to a master who’s believed to be compatible with those boundaries or interests. If they like each other, a contract is drawn up that stipulates exactly what will and will not happen between them. I
“But you started teaching me before I was kidnapped by Dietz.”
“True, but you hadn’t yet fully committed. I was giving you a taste of what being my sub would be like. The contract is the next step.”
She nodded. “That makes sense. The contract… does it provide for one encounter at a time, or is it open- ended?”
“Mine are open-ended. If I play with a sub again, we revisit the terms briefly to see if the sub’s needs have changed.”
Her expression began to brighten as her concerns gradually disappeared. “So it’s not just a wild free-for-all, masters grabbing the poor subs randomly and having their way with them?”
He laughed at the image. “That’s probably what most people think, isn’t it? No, the reality is much more civilized. The down and dirty comes later, in a safe, controlled environment designed to promote everyone’s mutual pleasure.”
“Just because both parties sign a contract doesn’t mean a master won’t get carried away, though,” she
