Sasha was surprised that Lincoln let her feed herself. He didn’t let her sit at the table. But he did let her sit fully on the thick pillow on the floor on her butt, and he handed her a plate with her own fork. Small blessing.

He was an amazing cook. She hoped he didn’t ask her to cook in the near future. He would be disappointed.

The pasta casserole filled her quickly, but she ate every bite, including the salad, assuming he wouldn’t appreciate it if she didn’t clean her plate.

When he took her dirty dish from her, she told him how she felt. “That was delicious, Sir. You’re a great cook.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“May I clean up, Sir?”

He set their plates in the sink and turned back to her. “Not tonight. Maybe another time. Let’s leave the dishes for now.”

“Okay, Sir.”

He took her hand and helped her stand, and then he shocked her by leading her out the sliding glass doors to the backyard. The temperature was perfect. The usual humidity known to Miami was lower now that it was dark.

Lincoln took a seat in one of the large, cushioned lounge chairs, spreading his legs and patting the space between them. “Sit, baby.”

She crawled up between his knees, facing the pool. Strategically placed lights made the inviting water cycle through a rainbow of glowing colors.

Lincoln wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him beneath her breasts. He leaned back against the chair, taking her with him.

She was surprised by her ability to relax. For one thing, it hadn’t escaped her notice that she’d been naked all day. And Lincoln was fully clothed. At some point it stopped bothering her. It was still super weird, but she was no longer freaking out over it. After all, by now the man knew every inch of her body. The only place he hadn’t touched was the inside of her pussy.

Not to say he wasn’t intimately acquainted with every inch of her sex. He’d watched her up close and personal, including when she thrust her own finger inside her.

She shuddered at the visual of him between her legs, his face so close he could have tasted her.

Lincoln drew a lazy circle on her arm with the hand not holding her. “What was that, sweetheart?”

Shit. “Nothing, Sir.”

A soft chuckle vibrated both their bodies. She loved it when he laughed. She loved to watch the lines on his face that spread from the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

“Baby, you’re a horrible liar.”

She said nothing. If he thought she was lying, would he punish her again? Probably, and she was so comfortable. Was omission considered lying? Digging into her brain wasn’t a skill he had.

His hand trailed from her arm to her breast, one finger swirling around her nipple.

It jumped to attention. So did she. Wetness pooled between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together.

“It’s so easy to read you, baby.” His words were a soft whisper so close to her ear that she could feel his breath where her head lay below his against his shoulder. “You were thinking something, and it disturbed you enough to jump. Now tell me.”

She couldn’t imagine what she would say, but certainly not what she had been thinking. “I was just admiring the pool.”

He chuckled again. “And?”

She needed to give him something more believable than that. “And thinking about how I’ve been naked all day and you have not.”

“And?”

What the hell was he, a mind reader? “That’s all, Sir.”

“That is most definitely not all.” He flicked his finger over her distended nipple and swirled it around the tip some more. “Try again.”

She sighed. Maybe if she answered his question with a question. “Is it weird that it doesn’t feel strange to me anymore? Being naked, I mean.”

“No. It’s normal. You’re desensitized for the moment.”

For the moment? Would it feel odd again later? Tomorrow?

He continued. “It will never have the same impact in the future that it did the first time—stripping for me—but every time you’re dressed and I ask you to remove your clothes, you’ll feel the rise of self-consciousness and arousal. It’s who you are.” His voice dipped to a soft whisper. “It’s who you are with me. It’s who I want you to be. And it’s sexy as hell.”

She stopped breathing. He gave her whiplash with the way he switched back and forth between talking about her future in the subjective as if she would be with any number of other Doms and never see him again and then switching to a more present tense that implied he owned her.

She liked the latter better, but every time she allowed herself to hope, he turned on her.

He kissed her ear and then ran his tongue along the lobe. “Now, it didn’t escape my notice that you still haven’t answered my question.”

She held her breath, memorizing this moment. She’d never been so turned on. The sexiest man she’d ever known—the only man she would ever love—was holding her naked body on a lounge chair on a perfect Miami evening. His hand held her so close it was impossible to misinterpret his feelings. Fingers danced around her nipple to drive her mad with need. She closed her eyes to burn the image into her mind for later.

She wanted him to talk to her. She wanted to have a normal conversation like two people dating would have. Was it possible? While they were simply lying outside, lounging in the night air, maybe he would let his need to control everything down for a few minutes.

“May I ask you some questions, Sir?”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“Personal questions, I mean.”

“Hmm. I suppose.”

“You were in the army, right?”

“Yes. Four years.” He continued to draw circles around her nipple while they spoke.

“Why did you leave?” She held her breath. Would he tell her?

For long moments he said nothing while her hope dissipated. His fingers trailed away from her breast to stroke her arm lazily. Finally, he surprised her. “I enlisted right out of high school, same as your brother and Carter, though two years after them. My brother Alex was twenty. He talked me into joining with him.”

“You have a brother?” Would he care that she didn’t address him as Sir while they were having this personal discussion? He didn’t say anything.

“Had. He was killed in action a few months after we were deployed.”

She winced. “I’m so sorry.” She could hear the depth of pain that still lingered in Lincoln’s voice.

“Yeah, me too. We were close. When he enlisted, I couldn’t let him go alone. I thought I would look weak, so I followed in his footsteps.

“It wasn’t a difficult decision. Our parents were hard-working, middle class. They hadn’t saved for a college education. It was my ticket. When he was killed, I knew I had to work twice as hard to stay alive, for my parents. A shrink would probably say I buried my sorrow by redoubling my efforts.”

Sasha set her hands on Lincoln’s thighs and gripped his muscles in silent support.

“I’m not sorry. My service made me into the man I am today.”

She pushed for more. “Is that why you only served one term?”

“No. Not directly. My father got sick. Liver cancer. He didn’t have much time. My mother needed me, perhaps more emotionally than anything else. She always looked at me with fear in her eyes when I was home on leave. Her son had died and her husband wasn’t going to live much longer. I couldn’t blame her. She was so worried about me that she was losing weight. Her hands were always shaking. I knew she wasn’t sleeping. So I came home.”

Wow. She’d never known all this. Rowen didn’t speak about it. “Is your mother still living?”

“Yep. About five miles from here. I have lunch with her as often as I can.”

She smiled. She was glad he had a good relationship with his mother, especially since she would never know an adult relationship with either of her parents.

He gave her a squeeze. “She’s an amazing woman. Even as a grown adult, I lived with her for three years after I left the service. I wasn’t home much between working and going to college, but I know she appreciated having me around. Maybe you’d like to meet her someday.”

“I’d like that.” She pursed her lips, fighting back unbidden tears. Why was she so emotional? Perhaps because he’d just implied she might meet his mother. That wasn’t something someone said casually to a woman they didn’t see a future with.

Hope.

“When did you start practicing BDSM?”

He stiffened. And then he chuckled. “You’ll kill me for admitting this, but I was seventeen.”

She jerked in his arms and twisted her face toward his. “Please tell me you’re kidding?”

He was grinning, a twinkle in his eye. “Nope.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing he hated it, but it was warranted in this case. “Hypocrite.”

“Yep.”

“You aren’t even apologetic about it.”

“Nope.” He squeezed her chest tighter, his fingers finding and pinching her nipple, making her yelp.

She was surprised he would admit something like that to her, of all people.

Suddenly, his chest stopped jiggling with mirth and he sobered, his hand trailing from her nipple to her chin. He held her steady. “I know I was an ass that day, and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve already apologized.” Her face closed up a bit at his admission. She hadn’t expected him to ever take responsibility for hurting her feelings that day. And now he had twice.

“I know, but what I did was unnecessary and uncalled for. It has bothered me for all these years.”

Wow.

He smoothed stray hairs off her forehead. “You didn’t deserve my outburst. I embarrassed you in front of everyone at the club. You weren’t responsible for John’s decision to allow you to spend your evenings in his office. You were only twelve years old when the arrangement was made. I didn’t know all the facts that day. I acted hastily. And I’m truly sorry. When I later learned what your situation had been—what Rowen’s situation had been—I felt like a total ass.”

She stopped breathing.

He cleared his throat.

She waited, not moving an inch. Knowing whatever it was, it was important.

“That’s not all.”

“Okay.”

He shifted his weight under her. Nervous? “The truth is that I saw you from across the room and thought you were hot. You exuded the perfect combination of innocence and confidence. My heart skipped a beat. I thought I’d struck gold. I tried to pretend I hadn’t seen you as I made my way around the room, shaking hands and making nice. But my mind was focused on one goal—meeting Rowen’s bewitching sister.”

Oh. My. God.

“I knew he had a sister. I knew it had to be you. I knew it was your birthday. What I assumed was that you were twenty-five. No one had mentioned a word yet about your mother dying and Rowen raising you. I was blindsided, and I acted like an idiot to save face. I felt like a fool lusting after an underage kid. I was embarrassed and pissed with myself and John and Rowen, so I turned that around and put it on you. It wasn’t fair. And I’ve kicked myself ever since.”

Now she thought her heart was going to stop. She tried to soak in everything he’d said, especially the part where he’d thought she was hot. Did he still? And why did he keep up the charade for five years, acting like she was a pariah?

He gave her another squeeze, his hand trailing back to cup her breast. He spoke again, cutting off her opportunity to ask him that last question. “Okay, that’s done. Too much deep conversation. It was years ago. I was young. You were… way younger. In a way, it was a blessing.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m totally not right for you. If you’d been twenty-five, I would have swept you off your feet and then hurt you when it didn’t work out. I didn’t always make the best decisions at that age. Obviously. So, my rudeness saved me hurting you in the long run. That and your age.”

Totally not right for me? She had no idea what he was talking about, but the hope that had bubbled up inside her at his admission that he’d been attracted to her snuffed out in an instant. Her heart went from stopping to beating erratically to stopping again.

For several minutes they sat in silence. Sasha’s mind waded through everything he’d said, confused and a little hurt. An odd mix of emotions after such a heartfelt apology.

Lincoln’s fingers landed on her breast again, languidly drawing circles on her tender skin.

She tried to relax and concentrate on the feel of his touch. Perhaps it had been a mistake to take them out of the scene. She wanted to get back where they were before she’d led them on this detour.

“Relax, Sasha.” His words were soft. Gentle. His fingertip trailing to her nipple again. “Let your mind rest. Stop thinking so hard.”

She took several deep breaths, wanting to do that for him.

“Get back in the role, sweetheart.” His words were whispered in her ear.

“Yes, Sir.”

More silence. Nothing but his easy breathing so close to her ear that she found herself falling in sync with it.

Finally, he spoke again, his next word deeper, hoarse. “Baby…”

“Yes, Sir?” She knew nothing but the feel of his lips on her ear and his finger circling her nipple without touching her where she needed it most.

“Spread your legs. Drape them over mine.”

She hesitated a moment, knowing how vulnerable that made her. Even though he’d held her open earlier and shaved her with his face so close to her pussy, she still felt the twinge of self-consciousness the exposure produced. They were outside. Yes, it was dark. Yes, there was a high fence around his property. Yes, it was quiet enough to indicate the neighbors on both sides of him were not outside this evening. But still.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Sasha. Open your pussy.”

She pursed her lips as she obeyed his command, lifting her feet to set them on the outsides of his thighs. Instantly she felt vulnerable. Exposed. Open.

“Good girl.” He slid his finger over her nipple as if it were a reward for her obedience. “Tell me how that makes you feel. I sense the hesitation. Your body got stiff.”

“Exposed, Sir.”

“I’ve seen your pussy before.”

She nodded against his chest.

His lips found her ear again. “It’s a lovely pussy. Any Dom would be proud to own it.”

And there it was again, his shift from being the one to own her himself to implying someone else would. She also wasn’t sure how she felt about being owned. To keep her mind off her disappointment over his choice of words, she asked. “Own, Sir? Someone can’t really own another person.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong. In the D/s world it’s common. Accepted. It’s a term that implies one person has given themselves to another. No, it wouldn’t hold up in court or anything. But it’s symbolic. A submissive is often owned by her Dom. She may even wear a symbol of that ownership that tells others in the lifestyle he or she belongs to someone.”

“I see,” she murmured, forcing her body not to react to his words. He made it sound so romantic that she wished she could be owned. By him.

Lincoln released his hold across her belly and slid his palm down to her outer thigh, stroking the sensitive skin so close to her pussy. “When you open to me like this, it shows me that I own you, however temporary it may be. This pussy is mine.” He tapped it with two fingers.

She gasped, her hips lifting off the chair as arousal flooded her system. Blood raced to her sex.

The finger still circling her nipple flicked over the tip again. “I love how your tits respond to my touch.”

Was she expected to respond? Because there was no way she could.

His tongue hit her ear again. “Sasha…”

She moaned, falling under the spell he created. At no point in the last week of research had she imagined a scene like this. She’d pictured kneeling and worshiping him. She’d envisioned taking his cock into her mouth—which both worried her and aroused her.

She had not visualized lying on a lounge chair in the dark, being teased to the edge of sanity. Was this part of her training? Or had he abandoned the plan because he wanted to fuck her? Please, God. Door number two. If she somehow managed to get him inside her less than twelve hours after arriving—score.

He teased the sensitive skin inches from her pussy. Miles from where she wanted his fingers. “Sasha,” he repeated. “Tell me what made you flinch before.”

Shit. He still hadn’t forgotten that?

“Warning. If you cuss at me in your mind, it will sometimes accidentally leak out of your mouth.”

She twisted her face to look at him. “You’re annoying.”

He smiled. “You’re stalling.”

“Do you have to know every intimate thought I have? Can’t a girl have some secrets, Sir?”

“I’m sure you’ve had dozens of secret thoughts today. More than I can count. I just want that one. The one that made you shudder before you relaxed into my body.”

She faced the sky, blinking at the stars. Oh, who cares? “I was thinking about how you’ve seen my entire body and I’m no longer as embarrassed now.”

“You said that part.”

She swallowed. “And… I was thinking that there is one part of me you have not touched.”

Did he inhale sharper than normal? “Ah, inside you. Inside your pussy.” He smoothed the hand on her breast down her body to press it against her opposite thigh, and then he used both sets of fingers to pull her lips apart.

She moaned. No way to stop it. She didn’t even cut it short. Her hands gripped his thighs at her hips, and she dug her nails into them. Her butt lifted off the chair.

“Set your bottom down, baby.”

She eased it back to the cushion, but the tension had a firm grip on her.

His fingers stroked her thighs, inches from her pussy. So close. Again. If he kept that up, she would come without direct contact. It wouldn’t be as satisfying, but it would happen.

“You want me to touch your pussy, Sasha?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

“Sasha,” he clipped.

She startled and then realized her mistake. “Sir. Please, Sir. Yes.”

“If you can’t remember to speak respectfully, I will walk away and leave you sorry I ever touched you anywhere. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Addressing your Dom with respect is never optional. No matter how aroused you get or how badly you need to come, you will not ask for it. You will not slip out of the role. You do not have permission to get so lost in your lust that you lose sight of your place. For as long as you’re in my home, you’re my submissive. You’ll do as I say. You won’t stray from that for any reason. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her belly dipped. Her arousal should have fallen into the cold water of the pool at his chastisement. She hated when he had to reprimand her. When he spanked her, her sex had gone into hiding, shriveling away. Same with the time out.

But now she was squirming, her mind focusing on three words—you’re my submissive.

“Let’s get something else straight, while we’re at it.”

“Okay, Sir.” Her legs were stiff across his knees. When had they seized up like that?

He still held her thighs apart this entire time. “I know you’re aroused. I know your heart rate picks up when I place demands on you.” His fingers teased the sensitive skin so close to her sex. His voice dipped, his lips on her ear again. “Obeying me makes you horny. It’s normal. It’s expected. It’s precisely why I also know you’re truly submissive by nature, baby.”

She jerked on his body. He knew that? Now? Already? Wasn’t the entire point of this experiment meant to prove her wrong?

“Don’t freak out on me. We still have a lot of work to do. Ground to cover. Just because I’ve recognized your submissive tendencies doesn’t mean you fully grasp what that means or what belonging to another person would entail. It doesn’t mean you definitively belong in this lifestyle. Many people can get off on some level of dominance. I’d go so far as to say most. That doesn’t mean they have what it takes to turn themselves over to another’s care for an extended period of time.”

She was confused. “Sir?”

He slid his fingers closer to her opening. “Enough talking for now. Grab the arms of the chair with both hands, hold on, and don’t move them.”

She released the grip she didn’t realize she had on his thighs and reached for the wooden spindles at the outside of Lincoln’s hips.

“Good girl. If you want to come, you’ll listen closely. If you think I’m kidding, try me. If you think I won’t make you go to bed horny, try me. If you lose so much of yourself while I’m touching you that you address me disrespectfully or can’t control your mouth, you’ll be left so horny it will physically hurt.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, so focused it was hard to do anything except concentrate on all the things she was supposed to be doing. Hands on the spindles. Legs open. Mouth shut.

“Now, I’m going to bring you to orgasm because you’ve been an amazing submissive today and you deserve it. It’s going to blow your mind. But I decide when and how. Not you. Do not try to manipulate me by lifting your bottom off the cushions or pulling your legs together, or verbally begging me. Do not speak unless I ask you a question. You may moan, whimper, scream, cry. Whatever you want, but no words. Understood?”

God, she hoped so. “Yes, Sir.”

Several seconds went by, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her ears. He had not dipped a finger inside her yet and she had never wanted anything so badly in her life. What this man could do to her with nothing more than words should be illegal.

Finally, his fingers moved. He started by stroking her outer pussy lips so gently it was hard to discern. The pressure increased gradually until he used his forefingers and thumbs to pull her lips open wide again.

She tipped her head back against his shoulder, her mouth falling open. If she could just concentrate on the moment, she would be in heaven. But she had to also focus on her hands, her thighs, and her mouth—keeping it shut.

He dipped a finger through her wetness next.

She nearly came off the chair. Thank goodness she held the urge to buck into him at bay. She would never be able to survive this test at this rate.

His finger trailed up to her clit next to circle the swollen nub begging for attention without words.

She willed him to touch it.

He did not. Instead, he eased that damn finger back to her opening and slowly pushed it into her pussy. “Jesus, Sasha. You’re so fucking tight.”

That was enough to make her come. But he pulled his finger out immediately and returned it to her clit. His other hand spread up that way also, holding the hood back while he tapped the nub lightly. Not enough pressure. Not nearly enough of anything.

Which he knew.

After teasing her clit for an eternity, he slid his fingers back to her opening. That one pointer pressed inside, but only an inch. “What’s been in here, baby? Tell me.”

What?

“What have you masturbated with?”

“Uh…”

“Be careful.”

She licked her lips. He wanted to have a chat about her nonexistent sex life again? Now?

His lips teased her earlobe again. His breath hit her to make her shiver. Or maybe that was from the embarrassment. “You’re very tight, baby. Not just virginal tight. But I don’t believe you haven’t experimented. Not someone as passionate as you.”

Passionate? Was she? Shit. “I have toys, Sir.”

“You’ve mentioned that before. What toys?”

“A vibrator, Sir.” More like a butterfly, but it’s got batteries. Same thing, right?

“Really? You’re so tight. How often do you use it inside you?” His voice told her he was seriously confused.

She turned her face away. It wasn’t as if he could see her expression, but she was mortified again. If he knew the real reason, what would he think of her? He curved his finger up to press against the inner wall of her channel. Her G-spot?

She lit on fire. If he kept that up, she would come in seconds.

“Answer me, baby. I’m trying to figure you out. You’re making no sense.”

She couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. Not a chance in hell. He had stripped her bare and shaved her and bathed her and punished her and made her masturbate for him. But he couldn’t have that. It was hers. It was embarrassing and not up for discussion.

His fingers moved away, retreating to her thighs, holding her lips open, but no longer touching them.

She moaned, desperate. Her teeth clamped down. Could someone die from orgasm denial? It felt likely.

“You have a secret, Sasha.”

“Please, Sir. Don’t make me say it.”

“I fail to understand what could possibly be so embarrassing about how you masturbate. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone does it. It’s normal. I’m just asking what you use inside you. It must be narrow for you to be this tight at twenty-two. So, I assume it’s some other object. Do you have a wand?”

“A wand, Sir?”

“Okay, so not a wand. What?”

She was stuck on whatever a wand was.

“I’ll tell you about wands later, baby. What goes into this tight pussy?” He slid a finger in again.

She moaned. It felt so amazing.

His finger came back out. He dragged it through her folds, over and over. “We can do this all night, Sasha.”

“Nothing,” she blurted out, a whoosh of oxygen leaving her lungs. “Nothing goes into me, Sir.”

He stilled for a moment, his finger hovering against that elusive spot, driving her impatience through the ceiling. “Nothing,” he murmured. “Though that makes sense, it also doesn’t. I know you masturbate. You have told me so, and you demonstrated your ability earlier.”

He released her pussy with the hand not currently inside her and slid it up her body. Before she had an idea of his intentions, he pinched her nipple. Hard. Not as hard as earlier, but he got her attention. “Tell me what you’re holding back or I stop.”

She whimpered. Was it worth this battle? Not if he followed through on his threat. “I saved penetration, Sir.” For you. “I come easily from touching my clit, especially if I use the butterfly. Really easily. So, I saved it.”

He stilled, his finger languidly resting against the inside of her channel. “You’re telling me you haven’t experimented with even a dildo?”

“Right, Sir.” She was mortified. Who did that? Masturbated. Daily. Religiously. Without allowing herself penetration. To visions of the unobtainable boss at her brother’s fetish club.

She swore she could feel his smile against her cheek. “And this embarrasses you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. It was humiliating.

“Well, I don’t see why. It makes my cock so hard, I’m going to come in my jeans. That’s the single sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She pursed her lips. His response seemed strange.

Besides, she wished he would at the very least remove said jeans. Damn him.

He inhaled slowly, his finger still lodged inside her, making her want to scream. Sure, she could come easily and with frequency. But he was torturing her. When she did it, she knew exactly where to focus her attention with what pressure and how long. He kept flitting away from the place she most needed his attention just before she came.

Maddening.

“How often?”

“Pardon. Sir?”

“How often do you masturbate?”

No. No no no no no.

He chuckled. “Don’t answer that.”

Thank you, God.

“I have never met a woman like you.”

Like me how? Freakishly weird about her obsessive need to come while denying herself the feeling of having even an object inside her?

“You’re so damn sexy. You don’t know it. And you’re filled with surprises that would bring any man to his knees. We’ll be discussing this again another time. But for now, I’m going to assume that my little sub needs to come so badly she’s about to explode.”

He was not wrong.

He added a second finger to the first, thrust them inside her, and fucked her so fast and hard the breath left her body.

She didn’t need it. Breathing was highly overrated. She simply prayed she could follow all his rules while he drove into her. If not, she would die. It was no longer questionable.

She arched her neck, gripped the arms of the chair, and held her breath.

“Come for me, baby.”

At his command, she shattered around his fingers, her channel gripping them with every pulse. It was even better than her earlier orgasm when he watched her masturbate.

It was the first time she’d ever come at someone else’s hand.

It was Lincoln’s hand.

It was exquisite.

It was perfection.