“Hi.” Hailey’s eyes widen as her gaze flicks up and down, taking in my freshly shined Ferragamo loafers, dark gray suit pants, and perfectly pressed white button-down. “I thought you said we were staying in?”

“We are, but I believe in dressing appropriately for a professional situation.” I step inside, chest aching as I catch the familiar vanilla, flowers, vegetable stir-fry, and sunshine smell of a space where Hailey makes her home.

This smell is home to me, too—she’s home to me—but I’m not the Will she lived with for five years. I’m William Major Saunders, Dominant Professor at large, and I refuse to let my pupil off the hook for sloppy presentation simply because the sight of her in sexy leggings and free-range breasts makes me want to cuddle her on my lap and fuck the hell out of her in equal measure.

“Oh, well…” Hailey closes the door behind me, clearly sensing my displeasure. “So do you want me to go change, or…”

I turn back to her, dragging my gaze away from the reclaimed wood dining table, bright blue couch, and pale pink chairs in her combination living room-dining room. The unfamiliar furniture is a physical reminder of how far she’s moved on from the life we shared, and it pisses me off to a ridiculous degree.

And it makes me sad, but none of that shit is on the emotional menu tonight.

Not mad or sad, just strong, calm, and controlled. So I force a light note into my tone as I reply, “Yes, I would like you to go change.”

Hailey’s lips quirk uncertainly on one side. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious. Go change. And put on a bra, please.”

She huffs as her cheeks go pink, the soft sound expressing an eloquent mixture of irritation, embarrassment, and amusement. “All right, William, I will. But you’re the one who said we were just talking tonight. You’ll have to forgive me for assuming I didn’t need to be dressed to the nines to sit on my couch and take notes.”

I step closer, and she backs away a matching step, her shoulders hitting the wall behind her.

Slowly, deliberately, I place my palms flat on either side of her face, leaning down until only a few inches separate my lips from hers. “First submissive lesson—when the Discreet Gentleman who’s agreed to advise you asks you to go get dressed and put on a bra, you say ‘yes, sir’ and do as your told. Otherwise, the Discreet Gentleman is going to assume you would like to be punished for disobeying a direct order.”

Hailey’s eyes widen, awareness flickering in those deep blue depths even as her nostrils flare in that “You’ve Pissed Me Off” way I know so well. “We’re just talking tonight, not playing or having a scene or whatever you call it. I haven’t agreed to any rules or picked a safe word or done any of the things you’re supposed to do before punishments enter the picture. I’ve done my homework, Will. I know how this is supposed to work. At least enough to know that right now you’re being a dick, not a gentleman.”

I grin, I can’t help it—I’ve always loved Hailey’s fiery side. “You have a point, Curious Cat. But you’re the one who started playing games, sweetheart. I was just following your lead.”

She lifts her stubborn little chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I angle my head closer to hers until I can feel her body heat warm on my face. “You knew I was coming over. You knew that we would be alone in your apartment, and you chose to wear a semi-sheer shirt and no bra. Why would you make that choice, Hailey? What were you trying to prove? What consequences did you want to face?”

“I…” She swallows. “I don’t know.”

I tut softly. “That’s not going to work. Honesty is mandatory during these lessons. I need you to be honest with me, and even more importantly, I need you to be honest with yourself.”

“I am being honest,” she whispers. “I guess I just…wasn’t thinking.”

I hum as I draw back far enough to cast a pointed glance down at the front of her shirt, where her nipples are pulled tight, poking temptingly against the well-worn T-shirt fabric, the sight of them making me ache. “So you weren’t thinking about making me suffer? About flaunting the beautiful body you’ve made it clear you no longer want me to touch?”

She shakes her head, and when she speaks, it’s in a voice I can tell comes straight from her heart. “No, Will. I swear I wasn’t doing that. I would never do that. I… I care about you. So much. I don’t ever want to hurt you. Not ever again.”

I nod slowly but keep my focus on those tight, tempting nipples. “So should I assume you chose to skip the bra because you secretly want to cross the platonic line you’ve drawn in the sand?” I drop one hand to her waist, teasing my fingers beneath the hem of her kitten-soft shirt, loving the way her breath catches as my fingertips graze her warm skin. “Because I would love to teach you to submit the fun way. Chatting and study can be informative, but you’re not going to learn to ride unless you get on the horse.”

Her breasts rise and fall, and the tip of my tongue begins to tingle.

Fuck, I want her nipples in my mouth.

Now. Five minutes ago.

We shouldn’t rush into power exchange—the rules are important and shouldn’t be taken lightly—but I want her naked and under me so badly it’s almost impossible to keep from lifting her into my arms and making a break for her bedroom.

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been with a woman. There’s been no one since Hailey. I’ve had more than my fair share of opportunities—Puck Bunnies wait by the exit at every away game, and a good number are usually wearing my number, a sign they’re eager to come back to my hotel room and puck me all night long.

But no matter how lonely and sexually frustrated I’ve been, the thought of a one-night stand or, God forbid, starting a relationship with another woman makes me sick to my stomach.

I don’t want another woman. I want this woman, this sweet, sexy, delicious woman. I want her tits in my mouth, her pussy hot and tight around my dick, her voice in my ear as she calls out my name, begging me to make her come, to make her mine again.

And now, thanks to our emails, I also want her arms and legs bound to the four corners of her bed. I want to watch her muscles flex as I tease her nipples, licking and sucking and biting ever so gently until she’s panting for more. I want to torment her until she demands I end her suffering, until she bucks and thrashes beneath me, waging a futile war for her freedom. But the bonds will be too tight, too expertly wrought for her to escape using brute force.

She’ll have to learn to submit, to beg, to thank her master for her pain and her pleasure. And when she’s put herself fully into my hands, I’ll teach her the dance of suffering and satisfaction, take her to the edge of pleasure/pain where I’ll make her come so hard she’ll be ruined for vanilla sex for good.

The thought is so tempting that my cock swells thicker, harder, until it feels like my heart is beating in my heavy, suffering balls and every nerve in my body is humming with need.

“So what do you say, sweetheart?” I let my palm glide beneath her shirt, molding to her ribs. “Do you want to learn the boring way? Or do you want me to make you so wet you’ll be soaked through these sexy little pants before we’re halfway through our first lesson?”

She lets out a soft moan, and her lashes flutter. Her back arches, bringing her diamond-hard nipples even closer to my chest—a silent plea for me to give them the attention they so clearly crave.

But instead of falling into my arms with her mouth crashing into mine, Hailey darts to the right, her hands clutching her T-shirt just above her belly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well,” she says, shaking her head. “I think I ate something. Something bad.”

I blink, but before I can switch gears and ask if she’s all right, she turns and makes a break for the back of the apartment.

“Gotta go,” she calls over her shoulder as she jogs away. “Bathroom emergency. Can’t be stopped. You should go; we can reschedule for another night.” A moment later, she dives into a room halfway down the short hallway and slams the door behind her, locking it with a finality that makes it clear our erotic evening is over before it can begin.

I cross my arms over my chest, eyes narrowing as I study the light streaming from beneath the bathroom door, smelling a rat in this sudden “bathroom emergency.” I stalk slowly forward, crossing the ultra-feminine space Hailey’s created—silently thinking that I would have been fine with her transforming our apartment into a pink and powder blue, flower-packed hideaway if that’s what she needed to exert her identity—until I reach the closed door.

“Are you all right?” I ask. “Can I get you anything? Medicine or some hot tea?”

“No, thank you, you should just go,” she says, voice strained. “Please. I don’t want you to hear this. It’s going to be embarrassing. I think I ate eggs by accident or something. Probably that ice cream my sister brought over that I had for dessert tonight. I think it was custard.” A frustrated huff is followed by a moan that doesn’t sound sufficiently tormented to be believable. “God, I can’t believe I forgot that custard has eggs in it. What was I thinking?”

“Don’t blame yourself.” I lean in, ears straining, but the only sound from within is the buzz of the fan whirring in the silence. “Ice cream shouldn’t have eggs in it. That’s clearly a violation of logic and decency.”

She laughs softly, thinly. “Yeah, but seriously, Will, I need privacy. I’m going to be fine, I just need you to go. Now. Please.”

“All right.” I step back with a sigh, realizing I have no choice but to admit defeat. Whether Hailey’s truly ill or hiding from the way the thought of playing sex games with me made her feel, I’ve got no choice but to retreat, regroup, and return to fight another day.

But I will be back.

I’m not giving up on her—or us—this easily.

“Feel better,” I say. “I’ll text you to set up a make-up session for Lesson One.”

“Okay. Bye. Thanks. Bye!” Hailey squeaks, clearly ready to be rid of me.

With one final hard look at the locked door she’s placed between us, I turn and walk away, locking her front door behind me to ensure she’s safe. I take the stairs to the ground floor and elect to walk home instead of calling a car, hoping the exercise will help banish the frustration from my bloodstream.

But by the time I reach my condo complex ten blocks away, I’m still itching in places that can’t be scratched, and my jaw is locked so tight I’m afraid I’ll crack a molar if I try to go to sleep in my present state.

So I pour myself a generous tumbler of bourbon and sip it as I start the shower, turning the taps until the water is steaming hot. I just showered less than an hour ago—I always grab one the second I get off the ice—but that was a utilitarian shower.

This is a therapeutic one.

As I step into the steam, I set my glass on the end of the tile bench and turn my back on the scalding spray. As the water pummels my aching shoulders, I close my eyes, allowing visions of Hailey’s tight nipples and wide eyes to dance across my mental screen. I replay the moment when that soft, aroused moan escaped her lips, again and again, until my balls ache and my cock is as hard as it was in that moment before she ran, when I was so certain she was going to let me take her hand and show her all the new fun we could have together.

In my imagination, I change the ending to tonight’s story…

Hailey’s arms drop to her sides and her head falls back, bringing her lips closer to mine as she whispers, “Teach me.”

“I will teach you, sweetheart, but first I need to show your breasts how much I’ve missed them,” I say, fisting my hands at the bottom of her shirt.

A moment later, I’ve ripped the soft fabric over her head, baring her beautiful breasts and those rose-petal pink nipples that have slain me since the moment I first laid eyes on them. “Meet me in the bedroom,” I say, voice husky as I brush my thumb over first one puckered tip and then the other, balls clenching even tighter as Hailey’s eyes flood with desire. “On your back, arms over your head.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, her use of the honorific enough to make my hands shake as I slap her ass and order, “Bedroom. Now.”

After locking the door behind me and fetching thick, soft rope from my bag, I join her in the darkened room at the back of the apartment, humming in approval as I see her stretched out wearing nothing but a pair of white bikini panties. Her arms are already stretched over her head, accentuating the upward curve of her breasts.

“Perfect. Beautiful,” I murmur as I toe off my shoes and join her on the bed, bending to press a soft kiss to first one breast and then the other before reaching for her wrists. “We’ll start slow, Curious. No pain. I’m going to break you with pleasure this time. Make you beg for me to end your sweet suffering. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Her chest rises and falls faster as I bind her wrists to each other and then to the bed. “I’ve missed you so much. I want you so much.”

“Me, too,” I confess as I roll on top of her.

“Yes,” she says, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Break me, Will. Make me beg, make it so good it hurts.”

And so I do. I palm her breasts, teasing her nipples between my fingers before dropping my head to kiss and lick and suck her honeyed skin deep into my mouth. I bite and flick, tease and torment, ravishing her breasts until her skin is swollen and red and every other sound out of her mouth is a whimper.

Finally, she breaks with a sob, tears slipping from her eyes as she pleads with me to take her, to fuck her, to “Please, oh, God. Oh, Will, please let me come. Please make me come. Please… I need you inside me so badly. I’m going to die if you don’t—”

Her words end in a ragged cry of relief as I tug the crotch of her panties roughly to one side and drive into her to the hilt, so desperate to be buried inside her I can’t wait the five extra seconds it would take to strip the fabric down her thighs.

Fisting one hand in her hair as the other grips her ass tight, I fuck her hard, owning her pussy with each brutal thrust, staking my claim as she comes, her sweetness locking down on my cock, so wet and tight and—

I come with a groan that echoes off the shower walls, my cock jerking in my hand as my release rushes hot and thick between my fingers. I brace myself on the cool shower wall and ride out the waves of my orgasm, feeling lonely now that reality has swept in to banish Fantasy Hailey to the far reaches of my imagination.

But it’s for the best.

That Hailey isn’t real, at least not yet. And if tonight’s aborted Lesson One is anything to judge by, it might be a damned long time until she’s ready for me to tie her up, let alone for her to beg me to break her with pleasure.

And then there’s the matter of the other man in her life, this mystery dick fungus in human form who incited her curiosity about submission in the first place.

Thinking about him makes me start itching beneath the skin all over again, banishing the soothing effects of the bourbon and steamy shower.

I dry off with rough swipes of the towel across my sensitized skin, jaw clenched tight at the unwelcome image of Hailey kneeling at this mystery douche nozzle’s feet. It enrages and devastates in equal measure.

If only I’d been honest with her. If only I’d confessed how much I wanted to control her pleasure, this might never have happened. We might never have separated or lost an entire year of the life we should be living together. She might be waiting for me in bed right now, smelling like honeysuckle and mint from the ointment she rubbed on a sore shoulder after her shower, ready to make love or play games or just snuggle and talk through our day until we’re both tired enough to go to sleep.

I miss her voice in the darkness as much as I miss her body close to mine. I miss waking up with her knees in my back because she could never stay on her side of the bed. I miss the way she would laugh in her sleep and how happy it made me to know my girl was that content—so free and easy that even her dreams were sweet.

As I tug on a pair of boxer briefs and stretch out on top of the covers, my chest feels like a volcano exploded near my heart. I feel cratered, blown open, as pain-filled and vulnerable as I did when Hailey and I first split and I wasn’t sure how I was going to survive losing her.

Our lessons haven’t even started, and they’re already ripping open old wounds. If I had any sense of self-preservation at all, I would end this now—call Hailey and tell her it’s clearly not working out and that we should go back to being business partners who communicate through our accountant and forget this crazy coincidence ever happened.

But it did happen.

Out of all the hundreds of thousands of people in the greater Portland area, a personal ad brought me back to the only woman I’ve ever loved. It can’t be just a coincidence. It means something. It means that Hailey and I belong together—we just need to work a little harder to make it to happily ever after.

I’m not afraid of hard work. I’m not afraid of failure, either. The only thing worse than failing to win Hailey back would be to never get in the ring to fight for her in the first place. If I fail, I fail, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life wondering “what if.”

I’m going to leave it all on the ice, all at her feet, all laid bare for this woman who still means everything to me, no matter how many months we’ve spent apart.

Finally, after a good hour of tossing and turning, I fall asleep and dream of Hailey smiling up at me in the sunlight, promising that we’re going to make up for all our lost time.