****

I lift my head from the steering wheel, shaking off those thoughts. I look over at the dashboard clock. It’s 7:45. I just texted Tasha to let her know I’m on my way. I refuse to cancel. I’ll just have to deal with that other shit later. My stomach growls as I inhale the aroma of the Thai food I picked up, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since this morning. I was supposed to have landed much earlier than I actually did, but I got caught up with some work matters. And then of course, once I got to the office, I got surprised by Marilyn, which was an entire shit show. Despite my weariness, the idea of seeing LaTasha sends a rush of warmth through me. I wish I could figure out what’s drawing me to her, but I can’t. Now, tonight despite the magnitude of what walked through my door earlier today, I find my nerves calming down with the knowledge that I’m only a few minutes away from seeing her face. I don’t remember the last time I had this type of reaction to any woman.

“Get a grip, Bennett,” I grumble to myself at the same time I pull up to the mansion gate. I lower my window for the security camera to scan my face and open the gate. I’m the only person who does not live on this property, but has this type of access. Liam doesn’t play about his home’s security, which is likely a smart move due to the fact that his wife is a trained spy with lots of enemies. His own father had tried to kill her once. But that’s a different story for a different time. Right now, I’m focused on my own wo…err…sub. Right. My sub. Not my woman. I don’t make any woman mine.

After parking, I stroll down the walkway toward the door. Before I even lift my arm to knock, it opens. My breath catches at the sight of LaTasha, for the time in the flesh, in more than a week. She’s wearing a simple pair of skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder, purple T-shirt. My insides settle in relief. That’s never happened to me before and it feels good. I instantly decide purple is her color and make a mental note to tell her to wear it more often for our dates. Despite the simplicity of the outfit, it hugs her curves just enough to give a full outline of the plush body that lies underneath. I raise my eyes, taking in the swell of her breasts and curvature of her shoulder to her neck. I admire her smooth, dark skin that glows with health. For a heartbeat, I wonder if she’ll shiver if I were to lick or better yet, bite the space right where her neck meets her shoulder. I have to stop myself from taking a step forward and finding out. Everything I’ve taken in so far is no match for the moment our eyes collide. Those damn eyes are filled with undeniable anticipation and hesitance.

“Hell—”

Her greeting is cut off by my lips against hers. It’d been days since I felt those soft cushions underneath mine, so I decided to take liberties. I kiss her, biting and nibbling on her bottom lip. I press my tongue into her mouth once I feel her give in to the kiss. Her hand comes up to cup the side of my face.

“Now, that’s the proper way to greet me.” I say against her lips. I needed that little taste after the evening I’ve had. 

“C-come in. Do you need me to take that?” She gestures toward my hand holding our dinner.

“No. Just lead me to the dining area.”

“It’s right this way,” she says, walking ahead of me.

We walk through her living room and I smile at the eclectic décor of her home. The furniture is all bright colors, and although I don’t notice any clothes strewn about, I get the impression she’s recently cleaned up on my behalf.

“You can put it here. I’ll get the plates and forks. Would you like water, wine, juice or soda to drink with dinner?” She turns her head to look at me over her shoulder.

“Coke is fine,” I respond, making no secret that I’m eyeing her backside.

“Umm…” She pauses and fully turns to face me with her eyebrows crinkled. “I don’t have Coke. I only have Sprite and Ginger Ale.

I nod. “Sprite is fine.” I grin watching her walk away. This is the first time I see her in skinny jeans, and she looks damn good in them.

“Thank you,” I comment as she returns. I remove the plates and forks from her hand, while she places the two cans of Sprite on the table with her other. “I got chicken and shrimp pad Thai and spring rolls. Any preference for chicken or shrimp?”

“I’ll have shrimp please.”

I scoop a hefty amount of shrimp pad Thai and a couple of spring rolls onto her plate before placing it in front of her.

“Wait. Shouldn’t this be reverse?” she asks, standing.

“Reversed?” I ask as I fill my plate with chicken pad Thai. I inhale deeply as the aromas of the food fill the dining area. My stomach grumbles even louder than it had earlier in the car.

“Yes, I should be serving you. Right? Isn’t that a sub’s job?”

I nod, finally realizing what she was getting at. “If that’s one of the terms we agree on. But we’ll get there. Sit and let’s enjoy our meal before talking.”

“Okay,” she agrees, falling back into her seat.

“Mmm…”

I look up to see LaTasha’s eyes closed as she chews slowly. The look on her face reminds me of a woman in ecstasy.

“You can’t moan like that unless you’re ready for me to do something about it,” I say, looking directly at her.

Her eyes pop open. Immediately, the way she licks her bottom lip makes me grip my fork harder.

“Oh…” she replies bashfully.

“Yeah, oh.” I resume eating my food. It is delicious and I understand the pleasure she receives from eating. Still those sounds emanating from her mouth are a little too much for my already frayed nerves right now.

I raise an eyebrow when LaTasha clears her throat after a few minutes of silence, only marked by the sounds of forks hitting the plate and chewing. “How was your work trip?”

I sit back in my chair, wiping my mouth with a napkin before speaking. “Work was a little hectic. We’ve had some problems at this site, so we had to get new contractors awhile back. But things are running much more smoothly now. I had to be down there to sign some contracts and look over the shoulders of the new contractors to make sure the work is actually being done. These new guys are good.”

“Good. I’m glad it’s going well.” She smiles.

A warmth spreads throughout my chest at her smile, and I instantly decide to change the subject.

“How’s the book coming along?”

The forlorn expression that forms on her face answers the question. She blows out an exasperated breath and shakes her head. “Not well at all. Still stuck in this damn writer’s block. It’s actually starting to scare me. What if I’m never able to write again? How many fans of this series will be disappointed? Almost daily I go to the community center with Coral and I hear some of the kids excited to read about Danica and her next adventure and triumph but then all I feel is guilt. Guilt I might not be able to deliver it to them. Of course they don’t know I’m the writer, but they do ask me sometimes if I know when the next book is coming out. I just give them some lame excuse that I’ve heard the author was hard at work or something. Then I come home and nothing. The words aren’t flowing. I can’t remember a time in my life when escaping into the fantasy world created by my imagination wasn’t a savior for me. And now? It may be gone.”

The desperation that begins to peek through in her voice grips my chest. I know the feeling of being abandoned, but to think it’s your own brain that is abandoning you has got to be the worst possible feeling. Nevertheless, I’ve picked up on something LaTasha likely hasn’t and I want to investigate it further. For a few seconds I just stare at her without blinking. My face doesn’t give anything away as I pick up my glass of soda and bring it to my lips. I take a few sips and wipe my mouth before asking my next question.

“When you wrote your first few books, you were living in Vermont on your own, right?”

Her face wrinkles in confusion for a nanosecond, obviously trying to figure out what my question has to do with what she’s just said. However, that’s for me to know.

“Yes, well, sort of. I actually wrote my first book years ago and quickly followed it with my second book. It wasn’t until about three years ago after I got my publishing deal that I wrote my third. I was in a little bubble almost. Didn’t really talk to anyone besides Coral while I was writing the first three.”

I nod, realizing my assessment of her problem was spot on. “I see.” I take another sip of my drink and push my plate away from me, finished with my meal. “Come here,” I say, tapping my thigh for her to sit on my lap.

She hesitates at first, but eventually rises slowly and walks toward me. I grab her hand, pulling her to my lap and begin massaging her lower back. Her sigh reveals she’s relaxing into my embrace.

“I gave you some assignments on our last date. Did you remember?” I purposely didn’t discuss the assignments in our other conversations throughout the week because I’d told her it was something we would discuss in person. Also, I needed to see how well she would follow instructions after they’re given once. I don’t like repeating myself. That’s something my subs have to learn right away.

She lowers her lids. “Yes.”

“Love, when I ask a question, I need you to look at me unless directed otherwise. All right?”

“Yes,” she answers, raising her gaze to meet mine.

“Do you remember your assignments?”

She starts to nod, but then she answers, “Yes. It was to remember the last time I’d experienced pleasure of any kind in my body. Then came the uh…balls.”

I smirk at her awkwardness discussing the Ben Wa balls.

“First things first. Were you able to remember a pleasurable time?”

“Mmmhum,” she answers.

“What does mmm hum mean? I need actual words.”

The edges of her eyes tighten as she squints at me, frustrated. However, she continues. “I mean yes. I remember a time.”

“Go on,” I prod.

“About three months ago, Coral made a spa appointment for us. We did massages, manis, and pedis. The whole works. Anyway, the most enjoyable part of the day for me was the massage. It was my first massage ever. I usually don’t like being…” She pauses to clear her throat, shifting in her seat. “I don’t like being touched, but the masseuse was professional, so after a while I felt more comfortable. I decided to tell her to apply more pressure. She was being too light at first, but when she began to press harder on my muscles, euphoria overcame me. Well, maybe not that extreme, but it felt good. The harder she pressed, the more I liked it.”

I nod, satisfied at her answer. “Is that the only time you can remember pain bringing you some type of pleasure?”

Her head tilts, thinking over my question when I see the light bulb go off. Her eyes grow wide as she looks at me, astonished. “No, it isn’t.”

I don’t say anything put pull her in closer on my lap.

“My mama wasn’t the nicest person to me,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, when I was young and she got angry at me, she would pinch me. She wasn’t overly physically abusive or anything, but pinching was her way of letting me know she was displeased about something. I remember one time I spilled a glass of Kool-Aid on her bed while watching TV. She was pissed when she came home and saw the stain. She grabbed my arm and pinched the skin on my forearm hard. At first, it hurt like hell, but then... I don’t know. It kind of tickled. The longer she held on, the more intense the prickles of pleasure became. I know she was yelling or saying something, but all I could concentrate on was how much I felt that pinch. I’d forgotten all about that.” She looks as if she’s just unlocked a long-lost secret. And she has.  “Is that normal?”

“For people in this life it is. Many of us, subs especially, recall discovering at a young age, the link between pleasure and pain.”

“I do remember reading that in my research.” She nods. She blows out a breath as if she had been worried about her thoughts. “Are you full or do you have room for dessert?”

“What’d you have in mind?” I ask nipping her earlobe and enjoying the shudder I feel in her body.

“I-I made pecan pie and bought vanilla bean ice cream to go with it,” she purrs.

“You cook?”

“Y-yes.”

“I’m definitely looking forward to dessert.” I grin, moving my hand up her thigh and tightening my other arm around her waist. I grip her chin with my thumb and index finger, pulling her face to meet mine. I hungrily take her mouth, exploring every inch of it. I swear I’m hearing and experiencing things with just a kiss from this woman until I realize that buzzing sound in the background is my phone. Angrily, I pull back and stare at her swollen lips for a second before pulling my phone out of my pocket. Rarely do I get calls this late at night unless they’re important. When I see it’s the number from the hospice, I grunt in disapproval.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. Well…I don’t know, but I’ve gotta go,” I inform LaTasha when I read the text message from the hospice director.

“Oh… Are you sure?” she questions.

I take my attention off my phone and put it onto the woman on my lap. Damn if I didn’t want to stay. I’d had some interesting plans for tonight, but they’ll have to wait.

“I’m sure. Walk me to the door,” I request, taking another nip of her bottom lip before standing and placing her on her feet. 

Reluctantly, I let her leave my embrace to turn and lead the way to the door.

“I have another assignment for you. When you’re in the writing zone, about how many words do you write per day?” I ask once we’ve reached the door.

She ponders. “Uh man, it feels like ages since I’ve been in the zone, but when I’m on, I can normally write anywhere from three thousand to five thousand words a day. Sometimes I get in ten thousand on a really good day. Why?”

“Because I want you to have written ten thousand words by our next date, which will be this coming Friday.”

Her eyes bulge in disbelief. “Ten thousand words in less than a week?! Have you not been listening to me? I’ve barely been able to write 3,000 words over the last three months!”

I frown. “Love, I don’t like the tone you’re using.” My voice is calm and even.

“Well, I don’t like this assignment.”

My head tilts. “Too damn bad.”

“How am I supposed to come up with 10,000 words? I just don’t think—” 

“Don’t think. Just write. I didn’t say they had to be good. You don’t even have to read them to me. Simply write.” I pause, wanting very much to laugh when I notice her eyes clouding with anger. She keeps it in, though. “So we’re clear, right? Keep wearing the Ben Wa balls and write ten thousand words. Those are your next two assignments.”

LaTasha sighs audibly, visibly disgruntled.

“Love, I need an answer.”

“Fine,” she huffs. 

I work hard to hold in my laughter at the grim expression on her face. I know she won’t be able to complete one of the tasks I’ve given her, but I’ve made the demands for a good reason. One she’ll have to wait to find out why. “I have a busy work week, but there’s an exhibit I’d like to take you to see Friday,” I say before I press a kiss to her cheek. Without even thinking, I lean down and bite her earlobe, loving the way she shivers at the contact. Patience. I have to remind myself. The last thing I want to do is rush this. I still have doubts as to whether or not she’s ready for everything I have in store for her. But we’ll find out sooner or later.

“This Friday. And wear something the same color as this shirt and show off your legs.” I grin as she looks at me skeptically and down at her shirt.

“You like this color on me?”

“I do.”

She gives a half grin, still angry but obviously please by my compliment.

The tightening in my chest is my cue to leave before I make this a much longer evening and do some things neither of us are prepared for right now. I lean over and press my lips to her warm cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin and her scent that is a mixture of vanilla and her natural essence.

“Thank you for dinner,” she nearly whispers.

“Anytime, LaTasha. Make sure to lock the door behind me.” I step outside, closing the door behind me. I wait until I hear the click of the lock engage before I walk to my car. I know even if her door were left wide open, save for a bird, there’s nothing or no one who could get into her home. Security here is just that tight. Still I need the confirmation of hearing the lock to know she’s safe. As I walk down the pathway toward my vehicle, I try to convince myself that my slight obsession with her safety is just me being my typical Dom, protective self. I almost believe the lie.

I look up at a window of the main house on the second floor. For a moment, I see the outline of a person standing in the window, before the light in the room disappears. From the layout of the house, I know that’s Liam and Coral’s bedroom. I grin and continue on to my car, knowing I’ll be getting a visit soon. Unfortunately, right now I have to deal with another pressing matter.