“It is so…small.”
“Small?” She laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. This place is three thousand square feet.” Double the size of her childhood home. Practically a mansion.
“Three thousand of your tiny feet, mayhap.”
“I am not tiny, Conan.”
He shook his head. “I am Tristan, not Conan.”
“Never mind.” With a sigh, she waved a hand through the air. “You know, for a pleasure slave, you lack certain pleasuring skills.”
“Do I?” He rose with an innate grace at odds with his massive size. “Thankfully, I can remedy your impression in only a few minutes.”
Julia almost jumped out of her skin. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I know I won’t like it.”
“You will like it,” he vowed, those lavender irises heating. “This I swear. I have been pleasuring women for centuries now, and know exactly where to touch you to make you scream.”
Oh, holy Lord on high. Help me. “I’m sure you do, but I promise I don’t need a demonstration.”
“There’s only one way to know for sure…” With that, he strode around the table, heading straight toward her.
CHAPTER THREE
Always Gain Permission Before
Touching Your Mistress
WITH A SPEED any superhero would envy, Julia’s guilt fled, replaced by confusion, panic and a dash of eagerness. “What are you doing?” she demanded as Tristan continued his wicked-minded approach.
He stopped only a whisper away and positioned his hands on both sides of her chair, leaning in to her. His hard body ignited sparks of want deep inside her. A want to touch…a want to lick…
Lick? Her eyes widened. Who am I?
“I am giving you a demonstration,” he said huskily, “of the pleasure I can give.”
Her heart pounded sporadically, unleashing a tide of conflicting emotions. Did he plan to kiss her? Or…more?
Before her tongue had a chance to turn to mush, she blurted out, “There will be no pleasuring me in this house!” The prospect of bodily delight both frightened and intrigued her. He was a stranger, after all, but sweet goodness he was handsome.
I’m shallow, then?
No, no. He’s only cute because he’s being kind.
He uttered another sexy, rumbling chuckle. “So you wish me to oversee your displeasure?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
When he brushed the tip of his nose against hers, she hastened to add, “I meant you will pleasure me right now.”
“That is all I desire, little dragon,” he breathed, and yet, it was not desire that lit his eyes as he leaned in for a kiss. He looked resigned. And how humiliating was that?
Irritated with him—and herself—she turned her head away. He kissed her cheek, then drew back with another frown.
“You will please me,” she said carefully, “by staying on your side of the kitchen.”
One of his dark brows arched. “You are sure about this?”
“No. Yes. Yes, I am sure. You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”
“Such is your command, and such will I do.”
* * *
TRISTAN MOVED to the other side of the table. His very presence flustered little Julia, and he would be lying if he claimed he did not like it. The slight trembling of her body, the parting of her lips. The deep color in her cheeks. Oh, he liked. He liked very much indeed.
I do? He cursed inwardly and struggled to fortify himself against her understated appeal. Why did she appeal to him on any level? No other mistress ever had.
Some of those mistresses—also known as guan rens—had been great beauties, while some had been undeniable hags, but all had made use of his body, quickly earning his hatred. Perhaps Julia’s reluctance to do so had turned the plain little mouse into an irresistible seductress?
Wait. She’d rebuffed him—thrice!—so now he wanted to touch her? The eons of captivity have rotted my brain.
Over the years, he had served many women of many different worlds. Except for a rare few, each guan ren had been selfish and vapid, expecting him to give total and complete obedience while offering commands and empty promises. Some hadn’t wanted him sexually, but they had certainly taken full advantage of his ownership.
Clean this, slave. Massage me, slave. Kill my enemy, slave. He’d heard every demand imaginable.
“This is better?” he asked Julia.
“Much,” she replied with a relieved grin. A genuine grin. “I only want a conversation.”
That grin… His chest clenched. He shouldn’t like this woman. Not any part of her. Still. Little Julia had yet to request anything except his absence, and his intrigue with her continued to grow.
In a way, she reminded him of Imperia. Her eyes…they brightened with green fire every time he pricked her temper, just like a dragon’s eyes.
She is half mouse, half fire-breather. All feminine delights.
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that things would be different with her, that she truly wanted nothing more from him than conversation. However, cynicism soon overrode his optimism. How many times had he dared hope for a measure of compassion only to find indifference?
Countless.
Give this one time, and she would demand submission just like the others. At least bedding her would be no hardship.
Right now, the little dragon wore only a pair of panties and a thin white chemise held in place by tiny scraps of material, leaving most of her creamy skin visible for his perusal. He suspected she’d forgotten about her state of undress. Otherwise, she would have sprinted for cover.
She possessed long dark blond hair and smooth white skin. Full, luscious breasts led to a curvy waist. Her hair hung down her back in a symphony of colors, from glossy dark brown, to gold, to the pale locks that framed her face.
Her cheekbones were high, her nose perfectly sloped. At first and second glance, her prettiness wasn’t readily apparent. The more he had studied her, however, the more he liked what he saw. She was an intriguing blend of courage and timidity, prudishness and sensuality.
It was the prudishness that drew him most. That stay-away, do-not-please-me demeanor challenged him in a way nothing had in centuries. Every time he hinted at
