Page 15 of Long for Me
Chapter Five
Bennett
A week ago, if anyone would have proclaimed that someday I’d have the sexy, reserved Rebecca Morales exposed and ready for any of my sexual whims, I’d have found the most expensive bottle of bourbon made and made a bet, assured I’d win.
Thank God I hadn’t.
Everything that had happened between Rebecca and me since I saw her at the rope was so far outside my realm of normal, I was still reeling from it. Yet I wasn’t passing on this opportunity, either. For months, far before she’d ever become my assistant, she’d tantalized me with hip-hugging skirts that showed off her luscious ass and shirts that fell seductively over the curves of her breasts. Soon, I’d have all of her in my hot and waiting palms.
I couldn’t wait to get started.
We entered her house, her hands shaking so hard with the key I almost took it from her. I didn’t. Despite her nerves, everything I’d said was true. Nothing would happen without her permission and she had to willingly invite me into her home.
Like Little Red Riding Hood and the fox.
My, what big teeth I had.
I followed her into her house and when I shut the door behind me, I reached out and pulled my coat from her shoulders. She tensed at the first brush of my hands on her like she’d done in the car.
My goal? By the end of the night she’d be reaching for me, not freezing whenever I came near. “You doing okay? Need a drink or anything?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? The little woman, serving the big, powerful man?”
Her sass made my hand twitch, increased the desire to have her bent over my lap while I spanked her into obedience.
I crossed my arms and waited until she turned around, expecting an answer.
“Disrespect from a sub of mine earns immediate discipline, Rebecca. I’ve made it clear I’ll answer any questions you have, that we won’t do anything unless you consent, but you agreed to this night. This sass will only earn you a spanking. Unless that’s what you want?”
A tremor rolled through her, as visible as the desire dilating her pupils. Yeah, she wanted this. But perhaps she actually wanted the choice stripped from her.
“I’m sorry, Bennett. You’re right. That was rude, but you’ll have to excuse me if I feel overwhelmed.”
“Sir or Mr. Ashby.”
Her brow furrowed. “Pardon?”
“Sir or Mr. Ashby. When you play with a Dom, you call them an appropriate name, and no, it’s not because you’re a little woman, it helps both parties understand their roles. As far as the drink, I can practically feel your nerves vibrating off you. As a Dom, my job is to take care of you and ensure you’re comfortable. There might be times I request you prepare a drink for me, if it’s my desire that you serve me. What you seem to lack understanding of is that serving goes both ways. I get you in the right headspace and take care of you so you trust me, and hopefully that leads to you willingly submitting.”
Her hands twisted together and she looked to her feet. Stepping out of her heels, she kicked them toward the closet. “Again, you make this sound so reasonable.”
“It doesn’t have to be difficult.” A wicked grin stretched my lips. “Unless, of course, you choose to push the boundaries to see what the consequences would be.”
“Subs do that?”
“Some. Some find it enjoyable, but in our world we call them brats.” I lifted a hand at her outraged expression. “And before you shout back a feminist rant over the name, it’s our term for someone trying to top from the bottom, to get what they want without being respectful. If you want something, ask. If it pleases me to provide it, it will happen. And the word brat or slut or whore don’t have to have a negative connotation unless you assign it one. In my world, they’re not.”
Her cheeks puffed out and she exhaled. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”
I walked past the small living room straight to her kitchen near the back of her house, leaving her in the entryway. It gave her time to settle all that information inside her until it made sense. Submission wasn’t learned in a night, and despite Rebecca’s tendencies to look at her feet, and her seeming desire to learn and understand, I doubted she wanted this. A night of play, maybe, but not long term.
Which was a serious, fucking huge pity.
Once I got my hands on her, hopefully I got over my insane desire to have her bent over my desk. Tonight I could do all the wicked things to her I’d fantasized about and put it behind me.
Hopefully then, I’d be able to start getting shit done and focusing again because the last two months had been hell. Hence the proposal I’d needed her to redo earlier today.
Her house looked to be a small, two-bedroom ranch. It was in a quiet, older and established neighborhood in Grand Rapids on the south side. Large oak and maple trees had lined the road, and in the spring, the leaves would provide a canopy over the narrow streets. Inside, her space was well-decorated and updated, the look created by a woman who firmly believed in the rule a place for everything and everything in its place
