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I look at the table, down at my plate, and then up at him, unsure if what he’s got in store for me could possibly be better than this.
He laughs. “The staff will package this all up and it will be in the fridge for you anytime you want.”
I set my plate on the table with a small sigh and stand, taking his hand. As soon as I do, I know I've made the right choice. His warm, strong hand sends shivers through my body, and I have to work to breathe. I can’t believe I was just wondering if some silly food would be better than this man’s touch—even if he did just say the most terrifyingly lovely things to me and will probably say more. Expect me to say some back.
I certainly have things I’d like to say. About how he makes me feel sexy and in charge. About how much I love teaching him new things about life and sex and exercise. About how I can't close my eyes without seeing the look on his face when I do something that surprises him.
This man is addicting as hell. I’m fully and completely gone for him.
And that’s a problem.
But it’s a problem for later.
Because right now, this strong, handsome man, who just admitted to having some kind of feelings for me, is leading me by the hand through his giant, beachfront mansion and down a hallway I haven't explored yet.
Chapter Eleven
Ben
Ishouldn’t feel nervous opening this door, but I do. The feelings rise in my chest as we head down the hallway. They form a boulder in my throat as my hand touches down on the knob.
I go through the usual steps to overcome strong feelings.
Identify it, give it a name—it’s fear.
Acknowledge that I'm feeling it and why—I’m scared to show this woman this side of myself because I don’t know how she’s going to react. Usually when I’m bringing women to a place like this, it’s with an agreement in place about what’s going to happen. This time, it feels more like baring my soul. I have no idea if bringing her here will result in a scene or her running for the hills, but I have to do it.
Okay, all that’s left is to express the feeling in a healthy way and move on.
With a deep, relaxing sigh, I pause with the door open a crack and turn to her. “I’m nervous to bring you down here. And that’s not something I'm used to feeling.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “I’m excited.”
I smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I hope you feel the same way once we’re inside.”
“Are you about to show me the dungeon where you hide all the dead bodies?”
“Dungeon, yes. Dead bodies, no.”
Her eyes narrow again, this time to little slits and she cocks her head to the side. “Prisoners?”
I shake my head and laugh softly. “I want you to know right now that my bringing you here doesn’t mean that I expect anything from you.”
“Liar,” she correctly calls me out as she pushes past me and opens the door wide herself.
With a deep breath, I step in behind her and flip on the light.
“Holy shit, Ben. This is…”
I wait behind her with bated breath, unable to decide if she’s about to proclaim the room incredible, or incredibly terrifying.
I’m quite proud of it myself, if for no other reason than the sheer amount of work it took to put together. There’s no next-day delivery on an island like this. Each and every toy, bench, and bondage component came over as my own luggage at some point over the last nine years. It’s not a fully-stocked dungeon by any means, but I’ve managed to make myself a nice little play space down here in the windowless room I’d put on the building plans specifically for this purpose.
Not that I’ve gotten much use out of it.
I won’t say that I’m a hardcore practitioner of BDSM. I don’t have any interest in full-time D/s or M/s relationships. I simply enjoy the feeling of control in a controlled environment. Nothing calms me down quite as much as a silent, bowed submissive, awaiting my every order. Placing their trust in me to give them what they need.
Or, at least nothing used to calm me down as much. If the amount of sleep I’ve gotten in the last week is any indication, whatever spell this woman has me under might have greater medicinal effects.
