“Fair enough.”
“So, tell me what you look like, Jenna.”
“Where do you want me to start?”
He made a quiet noise, like he was trying to decide what he wanted to know first. “How about hair color.”
“Dark brown, almost black,” she said.
“Me too.”
Ah, so this was going to be a tit-for-tat conversation. Nice. As she answered his questions, hopefully he would do the same.
“How long is it?” he asked.
“An inch or two longer than shoulder length.”
“Mm, long enough for me to grab a handful and pull your head back.”
Heat zinged down her spine at the thought. “Yes.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having your head yanked back by your hair while I fucked you from behind.”
Her breath hitched as her insides went molten at the visual that popped into her head. “Maybe.”
He hesitated as if enjoying the idea as much as she did. After a few seconds, he made a self-satisfied noise that indicated he’d allowed himself enough time to fantasize, then said, “What else? Tell me more.”
After having her arousal teased back to life, describing herself became shaded with salacious undertones.
“How tall are you?” he asked.
“Five-four.”
“Petite. I like that.”
“Why? How tall are you?”
“Five-eleven.”
She licked her lips, smiling to herself before saying, “Gosh, I would barely have to kneel to give you a blow job.”
“Mmm.” Short pause, then, “Do you enjoy sucking cock?”
“It’s all right,” she teased, unable to keep from smiling. But the more accurate answer was, yes, she did enjoy it. A lot.
“Just all right?”
“I would rather fuck.” A lick of fire zinged through her core at throwing what he’d said to her earlier back at him.
Another pause. “Are you trying to top me from the bottom again, Jenna?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Warren.”
She could have lived inside the low carnal laugh that followed.
“I am so going to enjoy breaking you.”
“Breaking me?” Was he suggesting that he intended to meet her in person?
“I’m a Dom, Jenna. Breaking submissives is what I do.”
“So, I’m your submissive now?” The thought alone made every cell in her body tingle with anticipation.
She heard a quiet rustling noise, like he was shifting position. “Let’s get back on-topic.”
Apparently, this was one of those times he planned on withholding information.
“What else do you want to know?” she asked.
“How much do you weigh?”
“Isn’t that kind of personal?” She was proud of her weight, but if he could withhold information from her, she could do the same.
“This is a no-judgment zone.”
Usually when someone said something like that they were blowing smoke, but with Warren, she felt like he meant it.
“I’ve Dominated submissives of all shapes and sizes, Jenna. Trust me, the flogger lands the same on a plus-size ass as it does a size-zero ass.”
“But I’m not your submissive.”
“But you want to be.”
She sucked in her breath. “Why would you assume that?”
“Just a hunch. Now, stop stalling and answer me.”
She did love how he bossed her, which was quite a deviation from how she normally reacted to someone trying to tell her what to do. She was usually the one directing others, totally in control of her life both at work and at home.
Now here came Warren with his whiskey-espresso voice, commanding attitude, and brutal honesty, and all she wanted was to do whatever he demanded of her.
“One hundred and sixteen pounds,” she said. “What about you?”
“One ninety-four as of this morning, but last week I was one ninety-three.”
“Slacker.” He’d gained a whole pound. What was the world coming to?
He laughed again, and God, it was a luscious sound.
He was tall. He was fit. He was a Dom. And she could listen to him talk for hours. What more could she ask for?
“Anything else?” she asked. “Is there anything else you’d like to know about me?”
Silence, then, “What’s your favorite sexual fantasy?”
Where did she start? “You want me to narrow it down to just one?”
He made a noise, like how many are there? “Active imagination?”
“I’m an author, Warren. An active imagination comes with the territory.”
“Touché.”
In fact . . . “Do you really want to know my sexual fantasies?”
“Yes.”
“Then read my books. Every book I’ve written includes at least one scene that came from my own fantasies.” She glanced toward her window with its open curtains. “And, actually . . . I can tell you one right now that always gets me hot.”
“I’m all ears.”
She scanned the apartment buildings on the other side of the park. “My curtains are open.”
He moaned his approval as if he already knew where this was going, but he didn’t interrupt her.
“The lights in my bedroom are off, but there’s a nightlight in the hall. It’s quite bright. It lets just enough light into my bedroom that if someone had a telescope in one of the apartment buildings on the other side of the park, they could look inside my bedroom window and watch me masturbate.” She hesitated. “You, for example. If you lived over there, and if you had a telescope, you could be watching me right now. Naked. Stretched out on top of my bed. Playing with myself while I talk to you. You could see firsthand what your voice does to me.”
In the silence that followed, Jenna felt as though Warren was cataloging what she’d just told him, chewing on it, tasting its energy and all the possibilities it offered.
“Does it excite you to be watched?” he asked. “To fuck for an audience?”
“The idea excites me.”
“But the reality doesn’t?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve never done it.”
More silence, then, “Just how far are you willing to take this, Jenna?”
She was breathing heavily, wet between the legs again, and eager for him to take her on another trip through her fantasies. But did she want more than that? Or was this enough?
“I don’t know,” she said honestly.
“Then think about it. I’ll only ask you one more time, and when I do,
