She stared at Perseus’s meager penis. He’d been a hero. He’d killed Medusa and saved Andromeda from the Kraken. The man standing behind her was no hero. She didn’t even know his last name, what he looked like, or where he worked, but she knew she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
“I don’t want this to stop.”
“Then what do you want?”
She looked down at his hand. Dark hair dusted the backs of his knuckles, and his fingers were long and nicely proportionated, capped with clean, trimmed nails. It was all she could see of him, but it was enough to make her know she wanted to see more. She wanted to see the whole man, top to bottom.
“I want it all. Anything and everything you can give me. I want it.”
His hold on her tightened, and he kissed the back of her head. “Good.” She heard the pleased smile in his voice as he tucked his nose into her hair and said, “So do I.”
He held her a moment longer, then released her. “Now, I want you to slowly count to sixty before turning around.”
“What?” She had thought that as soon as she told him she wanted to move forward that he would let her see him.
“You heard me.” His voice came from farther away.
“But—”
“If you turn around before counting to sixty, Jenna, I will be very disappointed.”
Wait . . . was he leaving? Was he not going to let her see his face?
She reflexively began to turn around, then forced herself to stop, and even though it went against every urge and instinct in her body, she did as he’d instructed, counting out the seconds, feeling like they would never end. When she finally reached sixty, she spun around, hoping he would still be there. He wasn’t.
But apparently, he could still see her, because a moment later, her phone pinged with a new text.
“It’s nice to know that you CAN follow orders.”
Before she could collect herself enough to send a reply, another message pinged through.
“Go home. I’ll be calling you in an hour.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. Light the way to the exit.
“What if I’m not ready to go home?” she texted back, already on her way to retrieve her shawl from the coat check.
“You’re ready.”
Hmph. He was certainly sure of himself.
After she reached the coat counter and handed over her ticket, she texted him back. “Are you always going to be like this?”
“Like what?”
“Bossy.”
She took her shawl from the clerk.
“Stop arguing and go home, Ms. Bangs.”
Before stepping outside, she quickly texted him again. “What do you want to talk to me about that you couldn’t have told me in front of Perseus?”
“Things.”
“What kinds of things?” She pushed through the doors and hurried down the miles of concrete steps toward Fifth Avenue like she was Cinderella rushing to her carriage before it turned back into a pumpkin, then hopped into a cab waiting at the curb just as his next text pinged its arrival.
“All the things I wanted to do to you tonight. Naughty things. Dirty things. Things done in dark corners, service elevators, and back hallways.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Destination?” the driver said.
She quickly rattled off her address.
Another text arrived before she could even formulate a response to his last one. “Once I knew the beautiful woman in the backless, bronze dress was you, my thoughts raced with all the ways I wanted to make you scream, make you moan, and make you come. Ways that would make us both breathless . . . doing things to that fine body of yours that Perseus and his meager cock would never be able to do to you.”
Oh. My. She gulped past the cottony feeling in her throat.
“I think I would like to hear these ways and things you speak of.”
“Then go home.”
“Already on my way.”
“I know. I followed you out.”
She gasped and cranked her head around to peer out the back window. Headlights glared into her eyes, but she could just make out a man in a black tuxedo standing at the curb, watching her cab merge into traffic. But she was too far away—and the window was too dirty—for her to make out his face.
Her phone pinged one last time.
“You need to start paying closer attention to your surroundings.” He followed it with a wink emoji.
Damn him and his gift for always getting in the last word.
Resigned to the fact that she had missed catching more than a passing glimpse of him, she faced front in a huff. If only she hadn’t buried her face in her phone waiting for his next message, she might have seen what he looked like.
There was nothing she could do about it now. She would just have to be patient. Something Jenna wasn’t exactly good at.
As the cab crawled through traffic, a barely contained sense that she was on the verge of embarking on a deeply metamorphic journey stirred in her blood. She had told Warren she wanted it all tonight. Everything. She wanted the reality of being his submissive. And he had told her he wanted that too.
Which meant she was closer than she’d ever been to living out the fantasies she’d begun having after her first boyfriend spanked her with the back of a hairbrush when she was seventeen. The sex afterward had been incredible. Mind blowing, really.
But she had never admitted to her boyfriend that it was the spanking that had gotten her so worked up, and he ended up never doing it again, because, as he told her later, he’d felt “weird” about it. He had only done it because one of his friends had said he’d done that to his
