Sasha stared at her bedroom ceiling, watching the slow path of the stream of morning sunlight as it leaked into the room through a slit in the blinds.

She had not slept. Even though Lincoln had brought her home last night with strict instructions for her to sleep, she had been unable to rest. In her mind she replayed the previous evening over and over again, mostly ignoring the parts with Master Colin and focusing on a running reel of the things Lincoln had said to her.

It seemed surreal. By the time the sun came up, she assumed she had surely imagined most of it. Maybe she had passed out and dreamed their conversation.

A knock at the door to her apartment made her bolt upright. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was eight in the morning. Early for a Saturday. Who the hell would be at her door at that hour?

The knock sounded again.

Shit.

She flung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed to standing, grabbing the first thing she could get her hands on to cover herself. Flannel pants. She shrugged into them, hopping on one leg while she worked her way toward the bedroom door.

Again with the knocking.

In a moment of panic, she realized it had to be her brother, and she hesitated. Maybe it would be best not to open the door to him. The last thing she needed at that hour was a lecture on top of very little sleep, no coffee, and confusion clouding her ability to reason.

How much would Lincoln have told him about last night?

More knocking. Louder.

With a deep breath, Sasha padded to the door and yanked it open.

Shock raced through her.

It was not Rowen.

It was Lincoln.

And he had the audacity to look well-rested, showered, and ready to start the day. Dressed in blue jeans, a tight white T-shirt, and loafers, he was also frowning. He set a hand on the open door, pushed it wider, and stepped inside.

Sasha inched backward as he shut the door, still frowning at her.

“Did you even look through the peephole to see who was at the door?”

She lifted a shaky hand to her throat. Lincoln Walsh was inside her apartment. Lincoln Walsh.

“Sasha. I asked you a question.” His voice was clipped.

She flinched. “Shit, Lincoln. I’m barely awake.”

He leaned toward her, wrapped his big hand around the back of her neck, and repeated himself. “Did. You. Look. Through. The. Peephole?”

“No.” She breathed. “Jeez. I assumed you were my brother.”

He released her neck slowly. “Why would Rowen be here at eight in the morning?”

She threw up her hands. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably to give me a ten-hour lecture about meeting up with strangers in clubs and letting them spank me?”

“He won’t be bothering you.”

“What?” She narrowed her gaze. Unless Rowen was killed in a mysterious accident in the middle of the night, he would so totally be up her ass before noon.

“I spoke to him. Last night.”

She rolled her eyes. “I bet that went over well.”

“I told you I was going to handle Rowen.” He frowned again.

Had he? Anything he said last night might need to be revisited since she had been frantic and slightly out of her mind. This started from the moment she got dressed in that out-of-character, black corset and skirt and then didn’t end until the moment Lincoln dropped her off at her apartment while rambling through demands. None of which she could currently recall.

Odd since she’d spent the entire night reliving the evening. But her memories focused on the way he’d held her in his lap. The unmistakable bulge in his jeans. The way he’d cupped her face. Forced her to meet his gaze. She recalled jumping up and arguing with him. She also remembered making some sort of commitment. But surely that last part was in her imagination.

Lincoln sighed. “I handled your brother. He won’t be calling you today.”

She wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad.

Lincoln’s eyes drifted to her chest. “Put some more clothes on, woman. Lordy,” he mumbled. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

She glanced down to see that she was only wearing a thin white tank top, her usual sleeping attire. That and a pair of panties. At least she’d had the sense to pull on pants before she greeted him.

He turned around and wandered farther into her space, smirking, though she had no idea why. Still muttering under his breath, “She not only opens the door without seeing who’s outside, but she does so wearing fuck-me clothes.”

“Pardon?” She set her hands on her hips, forcing herself not to cover her chest. Fuck him for speaking of her like that. She was covered.

He ignored her question. “We need to talk.”

She lifted both brows as she rushed past him, heading for her attached kitchen. “I need coffee.” What the hell was Lincoln doing at her apartment on a Saturday morning declaring that they needed to talk? Until last night, they rarely spoken to each other since they’d met.

“Black,” he stated from right behind her.

For a second, she was confused, and then she looked down at her mug in her hands and realized what he was saying. Fine. She could make him coffee. Why not? She couldn’t speak or think properly in front of him, but she could hand him a cup of black coffee.

He blessedly stepped away, but only a few feet to stand in front of her fridge.

She glanced at him to find him touching the edge of a finger painting under the alphabet letter magnet holding it to the fridge. “You’re an artist?” he teased.

“Uh, no. If I attempted to use paints, mine wouldn’t look that good. One of my four-year-old students did that.” Sasha turned back to the coffee pot and willed it to run faster. Small talk?

“And you hung it up?”

She glanced at him again. His head was cocked to one side, his eyes drawn together. “It was for me. She asked me to.” What was causing the confusion?

His smile warmed her before he left her alone in the small kitchen to wander back to her family room. When the coffee was done, she found him sitting on her couch.

She returned and handed him a mug as he pointed at the armchair across from where he sat. “Sit. But before you do that, go put on a sweatshirt or something.” His grin had disappeared. He was back to all business. Serious. Frustrated?

She jerked her gaze to his, took a sip of her coffee, and dug her heels in. How dare he come into her home before any sane person was out of bed on a Saturday and start ordering her around. “I’m fine where I am,” she stated, head held high. “And it’s warm in here. I don’t need more clothes. But thanks for your concern.”

Bossy much?

The answer to that was yes. He was bossy. He was a Dom. She was well aware of that. But he wasn’t her Dom. So he could go fuck himse— Fuck. Was he her Dom? She really wished she could remember more of their conversation last night. She took another sip of coffee, hoping it would help.

Lincoln’s glare penetrated through to her bones.

She lowered herself onto the chair, tucked her legs underneath her, and hoped the compromise would appease him.

He leaned forward, set his mug on the coffee table, and propped his elbows on his knees. Hands clasped together, fingers worrying each other, he spoke again. “Did we or did we not come to an agreement last night?”

She gulped back nerves and tried to keep her hands steady by wrapping them both around her mug. “I might have been a little distracted. Can you remind me what we agreed upon?” Perfect. Not too bratty. Not whiney. Not angry. Just looking for clarification.

Did I agree to let him train me? Fuck. “Shit,” she muttered.

“I think it’s coming back to her,” he said. It was the second time he’d referred to her in the third person. Weird. Sarcastic. Domineering. Rude. He continued though, “Enough cussing. I don’t want to hear it coming from your sweet lips. Understood?”

She flinched. “Cussing?”

He narrowed his gaze, pinning her deeper into the chair. “Sasha, don’t cuss. It’s a simple request. You’ve said shit two times since I arrived and once last night. Don’t do it anymore.”

She pursed her lips.

“Sasha?”

Her eyes widened. What more did he want from her? Lord, this was weird.

“Are we clear?” he prompted.

“Sure,” she blurted out, rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”

A vein in Lincoln’s temple bulged, his eyes piercing her with venom.

Shit. And damn. It was all coming back to her. She had made some sort of arrangement with Lincoln Walsh last night. It definitely involved eye rolling. And he also might have mentioned addressing him properly.

It seemed prudent to scramble to repair the damage and then request more details. “Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I’m not quite awake, and I seriously don’t remember everything you said last night. I was… distraught.”

He hesitated, and then he relaxed slightly and leaned back against the couch, crossing one ankle over his knee. “Perhaps I should recap our agreement last night and see if it’s still something you’re interested in pursuing.”

She blew out a breath. “That might be a good idea.”

When his eyes closed on a slow inhale, she hastened to add, “Sir.”

He smiled. “That’s better.”

It was. In more ways than he could imagine. Because she found herself aroused by the idea of pleasing him. What the hell? She squeezed her thighs together and tried not to squirm. She should not be aroused just because he approved of something she said. Nor should she be aroused at this hour of the morning.

“Do you want me to train you, Sasha?” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer that right now. I can see mornings are not your friend. Just listen to me. I have basic requirements any Dom would insist upon. I know you’re new to the lifestyle, exploring, and I’ll try to be understanding of that fact, but you’re going to have to put forth serious effort if you want me to work with you.”

She nodded, deciding it was best to keep her mouth shut.

“First of all, you’ll address me as Sir. Always. Without exception. Not because most Doms would expect that from a submissive twenty-four seven, but because I want you to live fully in the role while you’re learning. It’s confusing to new submissives to waffle back and forth between both worlds—D/s and vanilla. Understood?”

“Yes. Sir.” The one word was weak. Strained. She watched his intensity and knew he was being totally serious about this. He was willing to train her. Lincoln Walsh was going to train her to be submissive. Holy shit. Shoot.

“I have expectations. One of them is that you not cuss. It’s not something I normally demand of other subs, but it suits you.”

“Why?” she blurted. What made her different?

He lifted a brow and waited.

“Sorry. Sir. Why, Sir? Why don’t you want me to cuss?” It was the strangest request.

“You’re the poster girl for innocence, Sasha. You work with preschool children. You wear conservative dresses and dainty sandals. Your hair is loose and curly and unruly like a flower child most days. Cussing doesn’t suit you. Don’t do it.”

“Okay, Sir.” Listening to him describe her in such detail made her sex clench. She was wet. It shocked her that he’d been so observant. And she was intrigued by the way he saw her. Did everyone see her in that same light? Some pure, sweet, innocent girl? She needed to speak her mind over one issue that was bothering her, though. “May I say something, Sir?”

“Yes. Thank you for asking politely.” He was softening. He looked pleased.

Her nipples puckered. Shit. “I don’t like it when you refer to me as a girl. I’m a grown woman. It makes me feel stupid and too young to know my mind.”

He set his fingers on his lips and tapped them several times, thinking. “Sasha, when I call you a girl, it’s not meant to be derogatory. It’s a term of endearment common in the lifestyle. It’s not that I don’t think you’re grown up. I can see perfectly well that you’re a woman in every sense of the word.” His gaze roamed to her chest and stayed there a moment.

She processed his words. So intense. Apparently he did not see her as a girl. Good.

He continued, “I don’t think I’m capable of altering that habit. It’s imbedded in my brain. Can you perhaps accept that I’m in no way trying to belittle you when I say it?”

Since he put it that way… “Yes… Sir. Thank you for clarifying.”

He smiled. “See? Compromise? You might find it interesting to know I had this same argument with your brother last night.”

She lifted a brow. “What?”

Lincoln grinned. “He kept referring to you as a girl. I came to your defense and pointed out to him you are indeed a woman. For all the good it did me.”

“Thank you?”

He smirked. “Nevertheless, like I said, in the lifestyle, girl is often a term of endearment. Even if I did agree to refer to you by any other term, you won’t find many Doms in the lifestyle who don’t use it, so I suggest you get over yourself.”

“Okay, Sir.” She found it curious that he’d gone to such lengths to explain himself. Perhaps he was the perfect person to train her.

“Now, in order for your training to be most effective, it would be helpful if you had a chunk of time you could devote solely to this endeavor. Do you have any vacation time coming?”

“This is the last week of school before the kids go on summer break. I was planning to look for a summer job to augment my income.”

“Perfect. So Friday is your last day?”

“Yes.” The word wobbled. What was she getting into?

Part of her couldn’t imagine a better proposal. Being trained as a submissive by one of the best in the lifestyle who also happened to be smoking hot and figured often in her dreams? She couldn’t ask for a better arrangement.

And yet… Could her heart survive this experiment? What if she failed and disappointed him? What if they were both disappointed? What if she fell in love with him and he turned her away after they were done?

Yes. She definitely needed to hold her heart close to her if she agreed to this arrangement.

“Good. That gives you a week to think about this proposal. I want you to be sure. You have seven days to change your mind. If you decide you want to go through with it, I’ll pick you up Saturday morning one week from today and bring you to my house for the duration. If you need help paying your rent or utilities while you aren’t working, I’ll cover them. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” She gripped the mug so tight it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. The coffee had long since gone cold, but she couldn’t risk setting it down for fear she would spill it all over if she moved.

“I’m a firm Dom, Sasha. Do not think this will be a walk in the park. I’m demanding. I won’t go easy on you just because you’re new. In fact, I’ll expect more from you than I would anyone else since we don’t have to tiptoe around the disadvantage of not knowing each other. I’ll be harder on you.”

She gulped. How well did she know him really?

At least enough to know he would never hurt her. He was her brother’s best friend. Rowen would kill Lincoln if anything happened to Sasha.

“I’ll expect you to obey me in all things. I will punish you when you’re disobedient. You have my word that I will not mark your body in any permanent manner. I will not pierce you or brand you or change your skin in any way. I will not have sex with you.

“I will spank you. I will also introduce you to a variety of toys for both your pleasure and your punishment. I will tell you what to wear and what to eat and when to sleep. Your job will be to learn to give up control to another person and submit obediently to a Dom’s will.

“If you can accomplish that to my satisfaction, I will consent to your insistence that you’re submissive and let you join Zodiac or another club. I’ll even go to bat for you with your brother and get him off your back. After we’re finished, I’ll make sure you’re free to live your life as you please without interference. I’ll even help you find a permanent Dom if you desire.

“However, in exchange for you submitting to my training, you have to agree to accept my decision in the end. If I think you’re not suited for the lifestyle, I want you to back off gracefully and stop giving Rowen a heart attack. Are we clear?”

She wasn’t sure she was capable of speech, but she managed to get her lips to move to utter a soft, “Yes, Sir.”

“If you have reservations, voice them. If you have questions, ask them. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed right now. Make a list. Do some research. Email me or text me throughout the week.”

Did he not realize she had been researching BDSM for years? She didn’t comment. “Yes, Sir.” He’d thrust so much information on her at once, she wasn’t sure she fully heard it all. Her ears were ringing.

“I’ll type all this in an email for you, Sasha. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us.”

“Will you be taking me to Zodiac, Sir?”

He shook his head. “No. Not during your training period.” He didn’t elaborate.

“How long will my training last?” She stared at him. Was he talking days? Weeks?

He stared back, one brow lifted.

“Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

“Perhaps a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

She nodded slowly. A month? In his home? Doing his bidding twenty-four seven? It was nearly impossible to keep from squirming at the idea.

“I don’t want to put a time limit on it because it will give you a false sense of finality. It depends on how you respond.”

Depends on what? She didn’t ask that question. Instead, she nodded. Maybe she could figure that out online. See what other Doms required.

Lincoln suddenly stood. He stepped toward the door and set his hand on the knob. His departure was so abrupt she couldn’t even get her legs unfolded to see him out.

He turned around to face her again. “Lock the door behind me, Sasha. And for God’s sake, don’t open it without seeing who’s out there from now on.”

“Yes, Sir.” She uncurled herself and got up, heading toward him in order to do as he’d instructed.

“You have my number and my email?”

“Yes, Sir.” She stopped two feet from him.

“I’ll expect to hear from you this week. Text. Email. Several times. Don’t hold back. No question is too stupid.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He started to turn back around, and then he paused again and faced her, cocking his head. His voice was calm. “There are many types of submissives, Sasha. Some like restraints. Some like pain. Some like to be marked. Some submissives are service-oriented and get pleasure from doing for their Doms. Some are bratty and derive pleasure from being punished.

“And some…” he hesitated again, taking one large step toward her and grabbing both her wrists at her sides, “…are sexual submissives. Their focus is on reaching orgasm. They turn themselves over to the Doms to decide when and where and how they’re permitted to achieve that goal.” He squeezed her wrists with his fingers to emphasize his point.

He stood so close to her she could lean forward if she wanted and set her cheek on his chest. Feel the warmth. She could smell his clean scent and whatever shaving cream he used from this proximity.

He penetrated her with his gaze, waiting.

She shuddered. Her entire body shook with the force of his words. Was she a sexual submissive? Is that what he was implying? If the reaction of her body at his pronouncement was any indication, he was probably onto something. She’d never been hornier than she was right at that moment. Every inch of her was on fire, begging for release. The itch to touch herself was intense. Her sex throbbed. Her clit swelled. Her breasts were heavy. A ball in the pit of her stomach curled tighter, threatening to spring loose and leave her flying all over the room in a thousand pieces.

Half of her couldn’t wait for him to leave so she could flee back to her room and masturbate. She needed the relief. At this rate it would take her about two minutes to get off.

He spoke again. “I can’t be sure if you’re even submissive at all yet. I have my suspicions. But I do have one demand I’d like you to adhere to this week. I have no way of ensuring you obeyed me since I won’t be seeing you, but I’d like you to give me your word.”

“What…” She licked her lips, her mouth so dry now she might need to drink the cold coffee. “What would you like me to do, Sir?”

“Keep your hands off your pussy and your tits.”

Her face flamed at his words.

“You heard me. Don’t masturbate this week. If you have toys, leave them in your drawer. Do not touch yourself any more than what’s required for hygiene purposes. Understood?”

Holy shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Yes, Sir.”

He chuckled, startling her with his mood change. “I can practically hear you cussing inside your head. And that’s fine. Can’t stop you from thinking every four-letter word in the book. But don’t utter them out loud. And don’t masturbate.” He lifted his brows as he released her wrists, and then he turned around and exited the apartment without glancing back again.

Sasha stared at the door for so long her legs cramped. She wasn’t sure she could even process what he’d said, and she sincerely hoped he did send her an email detailing the conversation. If not, she would be toast.

One thing she was clear on was that she was so aroused it was a wonder the room didn’t self-combust. Was she a sexual submissive? Perhaps. But how was she ever going to find out if he didn’t intend to have sex with her? She shuddered at the thought that she might spend weeks or an entire month horny and unfulfilled.

Wait. What did he mean exactly when he said he wouldn’t have sex with her? Sex was a broad term. Was he talking about penetration? Because she could think of a lot of creative ways to enjoy her time with him that didn’t necessarily involve intercourse.

More importantly, how was she going to go an entire week without masturbating? It wasn’t as though she felt the need to get off all day every day. But she did like to pull out her butterfly at least once a day. Usually when she went to bed. It helped her sleep if she had an orgasm first. She had no idea if she was an anomaly or not. It wasn’t like she asked other women how often they made themselves come. It was hardly something she could bring up in the teacher’s lounge at the preschool.

But something was different.

Yep. It was the demand that burrowed under her skin and left her feeling like she might come without masturbating. If this was what it felt like to submit fully to a Dom, she was totally going to ace this test.

The question was, what would happen to her heart in the meantime, and how would she ever survive leaving Lincoln, let alone permitting another man to dominate her after he was done?