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He arches an eyebrow.
“You called me Raven. But I don’t have dark hair.”
“But there’s a darkness in you that yearns to be let out.
I begin to speak, but he holds up his hand. “Don’t bother denying it, when we both know it’s true.”
I swallow past the knot of emotion in my throat. How is it possible that this almost-stranger sees me when everyone else in my life sees what I portray for the outside world?
I hear a sound of distress emerge from my throat. He does, too.
He cups my cheek and somehow, his touch is soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay to let go. You’re safe with me. I’ll never judge you, I promise. I want you to be true to yourself. To your emotions. To what you feel inside. To what you want to be. To explore what you feel. Your feelings. Your desires. Your deepest darkest needs. They all matter to me.”
A bead of sweat runs down his temple. It’s cold in the car but I feel like a million flames are trying to burst out of my skin. “I... I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. You liked it when I carried you out of there.”
I shake my head.
“You loved it when I spanked you.”
“No, no, no.” I squeeze my eyes shut.
“You craved more of my touch when I massaged your arse. And knowing everyone was watching us only turned you on further. Your feelings of humiliation pushed you further in the direction of an orgasm.
“Oh, my god!” I slap my hands over my ears. “Stop, please.”
When he does, I’m surprised enough to open my eyes and look at him and instantly realize, it’s a mistake. There’s empathy in his gaze, and understanding, and below it all, a thick, heavy lust coats his features. A need which touches a hidden part of me.
He sits straight, his military bearing hard, uncompromising. Precise, like the edge of a scalpel knife. He could cut me and hurt me, and damn him, but I’d enjoy the pain.
He reaches for me slowly, like I’m an animal who could bolt at any time, and when I don’t flinch away, he cups my cheek. “You can trust me. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whisper. To be honest, I don’t understand where these words are coming from, or what exactly I mean by them.
But he does, for he nods. “I promise, I’ll never do anything you don’t want. You have the power in this relationship.”
“Doesn’t seem that way from where I’m sitting.”
“You think I have the power because I have the money that you need, but you forget that you have something I need, too.”
“Sure, you need to get married, so your father confirms you as the CEO of the company and you secure your inheritance.”
“Not only.” His lips curve, and his smile is a little sad. “I need you because you remind me of possibilities. You give me hope that there’s more to life than what I’ve lived so far. You make me believe in everything that is good and beautiful; you're an antidote to what I've seen as a Marine.”
I laugh self-consciously. “You’re making me out to be something I'm not.”
“I have no doubt that you’re submissive.”
I swallow. It’s one thing for me to realize that for myself. But hearing it from him makes me feel exposed. Like I have nowhere to hide. I’ve never been this seen as with this man.
His gaze intensifies. “You give me a reason to focus my attention, something I am grateful for. And if you choose me to bring out your submissiveness, then it’s an honor I will never take lightly. You hold the power...to say no. I have the prerogative to test your limits, so you learn more about yourself, but the final say in whether you want me to dominate you or not is up to you.”
I clear my throat. “Am… I... Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
“Do you expect me to believe that you don’t?”
Answer a question with a question. Typical. Also, damn him. How does he know I’m aware of what he’s alluding to? I look out of the window. “It’s a fact, I’m curious about the BDSM lifestyle. Enough to watch porn featuring role play.” It was one way to feel less lonely when you didn’t have friends or boyfriends. “But I never thought I’d have a chance to experiment with the lifestyle.”
