A moment later, he collapsed on top of her. All she could do was accept his weight, too weak to move, still bound to the bed.
Her initiation into the world of BDSM was complete, and it had been nothing like she’d expected, and everything she wanted more of.
Chapter Twelve
Jenna lay curled in Warren’s arms on the chaise lounge near the window. He had untied her, bathed her, brushed her hair, and now cradled her to his body.
But while he had removed her blindfold, he had put his mask back on, still hiding his face from her.
“You’ll sleep here tonight.” He spoke softly, nuzzling her hair.
She was in no shape to argue, already on the verge of slumber.
“Are you ever going to let me see your face?” she asked drowsily.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When I feel like you’ve earned it.” It was what he’d told her earlier. At least he was consistent.
He kissed the top of her ear. “I have to have something to dangle over you to keep you coming back.”
She shifted in his embrace and nestled against him. “You don’t have to worry about that. After what you did to me tonight, you couldn’t keep me away with a fence fifty feet tall made of barbed wire and broken glass.”
He chuckled, using his fingers to brush back her hair so he could kiss her temple. “You enjoyed yourself then?”
She nodded, draping her arm over his stomach. “Couldn’t you tell?”
“Mm-hmm.” Reaching behind her leg, he pulled it across his lap as if he couldn’t hold her close enough. “Now you understand the appeal of genital clamps.”
“Pleasure from pain?”
“The greater the pain, the greater the pleasure,” he answered. “And you did seem to experience a great deal of pleasure.” An impressed, tongue-in-cheek droll colored his tone.
It hadn’t just been the genital clamps. Sure, that had been the strongest influence on her climactic outflow, but it had been a combination of things that sent her so far over the deep end. The clamps, the flogging, the feather, what she’d seen in the dungeon, the sounds of sex, a month of incredible phone calls. His voice. The night at the Met. Her own fear, panic, and anxiety, as well as the fact that she’d been keyed up about tonight for days.
She was like a kid with a new favorite toy. For the next several days . . . maybe the next few weeks . . . her new toy would be all she would be able to think about. And she would want to play with it every chance she got.
Eventually, though, she would grow used to it, and her exciting new toy would become more of a faithful companion. Something she could count on to bring her comfort, no matter what other toys she added to her toy box.
And like that new toy, her relationship with Warren would grow more comfortable too. After a few weeks had passed, their time together probably wouldn’t be as intense as it had been tonight, but she couldn’t wait to see how it transformed from where it had begun in these past few hours to where it would inevitably end up, say, a year from now.
Hopefully, Warren would still want to be her Dom a year from now, because right now, she wanted to keep him forever.
“That’s never happened to me before,” she said. “I’ve never come like that. I couldn’t stop. At some point, my body just kind of . . . took over, and the orgasms just kept coming.”
“That’s good, right?”
She nodded, tilting her head so she could kiss the side of his neck. “It was very good.” She kissed him again, letting her lips linger. “I wouldn’t mind seeing if you can replicate the experience in the future.”
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he reclined more deeply into the chaise. “I guess I’ll have to up my game if I’m going to top that, huh?”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I do love a challenge.”
Jenna must have dozed off after that, because the next thing she knew, she was being carried down the hall.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked sleepily.
“To your bedroom.”
“My bedroom?”
“Yes, yours.”
How about that? She had her own room in a multimillion-dollar mansion.
He pushed open another door and carried her into a room with light-gray hardwood floors, pale-lavender walls, a white dresser with a decorative vase of fresh flowers on top, and a bed dressed in a white-and-purple comforter with a light-gray fabric headboard. A cream-colored quilted bench sat at the foot of the bed, and sheer white curtains covered the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He set her on the edge of the bed and pulled down the sheets.
“Bathroom is over there,” he said, pointing to a door in the corner, “and I’m right down the hall if you need anything. My door will be open.”
She nodded, crawling under the covers. Her head sank into the softest, plushest pillow it had ever met.
After tucking her in, he sat down and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I want you to come back next weekend.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand as he cupped her face.
“Do you want to come back?” he asked.
She nodded and smiled as his soft, warm palm cradled her cheek.
“Are you going to follow my rules?”
She opened her eyes and lifted her head, meeting his gaze and nodding again. “Yes.” Then she deliberately added, “Sir.” She wanted him to know that she was more than ready to take the next step as his submissive.
“And if you don’t follow the rules, you know what I’ll do to you, right?”
Her smile widened. If punishments led to so much pleasure, she could see why a submissive might intentionally disobey her Dom. “Yes, sir.”
“And don’t research me on the internet. Do you understand?”
He had told her earlier not to Google him, but his reminder imparted the importance of his mandate and drove the point home.
Honestly, the thought hadn’t
