I smooth my hand over the top of Dakota’s silky soft hair, heart punching at my ribs, every bit as nervous as that first time on Martha’s Vineyard.

Back then, I was anxious because it was my first scene, my first chance to prove I had what it takes to top a woman, to pleasure her with pain and satisfy her with deprivation. At nineteen, I was terrified of embarrassing myself, of losing control in one of the many ways teenage boys are known to lose control. The fear of coming too soon had been so strong I could taste it, rusty and sour on my tongue, every time I brought my leather whip down on my lover’s ass.

But now, the stakes are so much higher, and embarrassing myself is the least of my worries.

After over a decade as a Dominant, I know that there are far worse things than an ill-timed orgasm. The physical stuff is the least important part of this game. It’s trust, communication, and mental stamina that matter most, and I’m not sure how well any of those things are faring at the moment.

I’m not sure I can trust Dakota to let me know what she needs—or what she doesn’t—and I don’t know if I’m capable of maintaining the mental distance I need to set boundaries for two people. Yes, I want to give her the push she needs to open up to me again, but I don’t want to hurt her in the process.

Hurting her again is the very last thing I want to do.

“I need your help, beautiful.” I slip my fingers beneath the delicate bone of her chin, tipping her face up until her hooded eyes meet mine. “I need you to keep your safe word close and use it as soon as you feel the least bit uncomfortable. It’s been a while for us, and I want to be sure you stay safe.”

“I’ll be safe.” She lifts her hand, wrapping her fingers lightly around my wrist. “You’ve never hurt me. Not like this, anyway. I trust you, Garrett, or I wouldn’t be down here.”

My throat works as I silently pray her faith in me—in us, when we’re together like this—isn’t misplaced. “Good. Then take off your shirt, Kitten. When I get back, I want you naked, on your back, with your knees bent and your legs spread for me.”

“Yes, Sir,” she says, the honorific sending a rush of adrenaline dumping into my bloodstream.

As I start toward the bedroom to fetch supplies from my dresser drawer, she pulls my undershirt over her head, moving instantly to obey, the way she has since the beginning. She’s a natural submissive, as effortlessly obedient in bed as she is proud and uncompromising out of it.

When Dakota and I first got together, Tennyson swore it would never work. He couldn’t believe that the feisty, smart-mouthed woman he’d met at the party of a mutual friend was capable of giving up control as completely as a Dom/sub relationship requires. He didn’t seem to understand that women contain multitudes inside of them, that they are ten different people on any given day—mother, daughter, sister, lover, warrior, healer, friend—and that Dakota is even more vast than most.

She is strength and submission, fire and rain, a conqueror and a supplicant all wrapped into a fascinating, one-of-a-kind woman who destroys me every time she kneels at my feet.

I know this time will be no different. I just hope we can knock down a few of the walls standing between us before we exhaust each other again.

I return with my flogger and a velvet bag full of clamps to find Dakota in position, and something primal inside of me growls in approval. To see her bare and vulnerable, willingly defenseless against anything I choose to do to her, sends blood rushing between my legs until I’m as hard as the steel clamps I spill into my palm as I tip the bag upside down.

“When was the last time you played with these?” I kneel beside her, laying the clamps on her stomach, where her pulse flutters beneath her navel, that faint jerk and tremble the only sign that she’s anything but calm and ready to submit.

But the pounding of her heart assures me my instincts are right. We should start slow. Slow, but firm, because my girl doesn’t like it gentle. Gentle is what scares her the most.

“With you, Sir.” Her tongue traces the curve of her top lip as she exhales. “I’ve only ever done any of this with you.”

The confession makes my already pulsing cock throb and my heart ache. Anger at the self-righteous fool I was four years ago rushes through me, followed quickly by a renewed determination to make this better.

“That makes me happy.” I trace the outer edge of her nipple with my fingers—first one and then the other—until both are puckered and hard, straining up from the soft swells of her breasts. “But it makes me sad, too.”

“Why’s that?” Her breath catches as I pinch her left nipple tight between finger and thumb, giving her a taste of what’s to come.

“I hate to think of you going without something you need.” I pluck a clamp from her belly and bring it to her taut flesh, tightening the screw until I’ve captured one pink tip between the felt pads. “I wish I could go back and change the past, but I can only do my best moving into the future.”

“That’s all any of us can do,” she whispers as I clamp her other nipple, spinning this one tighter than the first.

“Does that mean you’re considering a future with me, beautiful?” I spin the dial on the first clamp again, until she sucks in a breath and her shoulders tense.

“I don’t know, Sir.” She arches her back, forehead wrinkling as she pushes her clamped nipples into the air. “All I can think about right now is what you’re going to do with the rest of those clamps.”

“I’m going to do things you won’t expect, of course,” I say, lips curving as she bites down hard on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to bore you.”

She shakes her head slowly. “No danger of that. I never know what you’re going to do next.”

“Good.” I lean in, kissing her forehead as I gather the clamps still on her stomach. “Then let’s keep it that way. On your hands and knees, Kitten. I have plans for your ass.”

She rolls onto her side, moaning softly as she shifts her arms.

“Are these too tight?” I reach beneath her, catching one clamp between my fingers, pulse spiking as she moans again in response.

“No, Sir.” She tilts her hips, lifting her ass into the air, making it impossible to look anywhere but between her legs, where her hot little pussy is already wet for me again. “They’re just right.”

“Perfect.” I gently flick each clamp before skimming my palm up her thigh to the place where the curve of her bottom begins. “But I think you can take more, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.” She grunts softly as I smack her ass, using enough force to leave a faint red handprint behind on her pale skin. “Oh, yes, Sir.”

“Yes?” I smack her again, harder this time, dick twitching as she cries out in response.

“Oh, yes, Sir. Please, Sir…”

“Don’t worry; I’m going to spank you, Kitten,” I promise as I pinch the fleshiest part of her back side between my fingers. “I’m going to make your ass burn, but first, we’re going to see how many of these you can take. Are you ready?”

She nods, and her shoulders inch closer to her ears once more.

“Try to relax,” I murmur as I affix the first clamp and start on the second, moving in a curve from her outer cheek toward the more vulnerable place between her legs. “The more tense you are, the more extreme these are going to feel.”

“Is that a promise?” she asks, making me smile.

“It is.” I spin the dial on the third and fourth clamps tighter. “It absolutely is. And you know I keep my promises.”

Her next breath catches in her throat as I slide a finger down the center of her sex, pressing lightly against her clit.

“And what about this beauty?” I tease the already firm nub, making it swell beneath my touch. “Is she ready to slip into something a little less comfortable?”

Dakota arches her back, granting me easier access to her clit. I pinch the bud in approval, loving the way she gasps as I spin the final clamp into place.

“Oh my God.” Her thighs begin to tremble. “Oh my God, Sir.”

“Too much?” I tap the clamp with my finger, summoning a pained, pleasured groan from low in Dakota’s throat that makes it imperative I get out of my pants as swiftly as possible. Even loungewear is becoming too restrictive at this point.

“I need an answer.” I push the pajama pants down and step out of them, allowing my swollen cock to bob free.

I’m already so hard that the head of my dick is more purple than red, but I’m not anywhere close to finding relief. There will be no relief for either of us until I push Dakota as hard as she asked to be pushed.

“No, Sir.” A hiss escapes from between her teeth as I cup both of her ass cheeks in my hands, lifting and squeezing in soft, slow movements I know will send fresh lightning bolts of pain zinging up her spine. “Oh God, Sir, I feel so heavy.”

“Heavy where?” I cup her breasts next, letting my cock settle in the crease of her ass as I bend over her from behind. “Here?”

“Yes, there,” she pants, pressing back into my erection. “And here.”

“Here?” I move two fingers to her entrance, pressing the tips into her slick heat, ready to pull away when she shifts backward in response.

“Oh, please,” she says, moaning as I deprive her of the penetration she craves. “Please, inside me, please.”

“Not yet. Not until you get what you asked for,” I say, reaching for the flogger on the floor. “I believe someone requested a spanking.”