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I liked my coffee, but I wasn’t a connoisseur of it. My fancy coffee used to be my daily Starbucks latte, and I’d quit my Starbucks habit months ago. I couldn’t justify spending that much on a daily cup of coffee when I could send it to my mother instead.
I searched the station for an instruction manual, the minutes ticking down and sweat collecting on my forehead as I came up empty. I hated not knowing how to do something, hated not being immediately perfect at whatever task was set before me.
“If you had your phone, you could Google the instructions,” I muttered. For about thirty seconds, I was tempted to go back upstairs and silently sneak my phone out of my purse, still sitting in the hallway outside Mr. Steele’s office.
Instead, terrified of breaking his machine and another rule, I returned to his office to admit my failure. Mr. Steele was still at his desk, staring at his computer screen. I hesitated just inside the door, unsure if I should kneel on the cushion, before finally deciding not to and raising my hand.
I was certain he would leave me standing there, my hand raised like a little kid in school, but to my surprise, he immediately said, “What is it, Charlotte?
“I don’t know how to work your espresso machine and couldn’t find an instruction manual. I’m sorry, sir.”
I cringed inwardly, hating how incompetent I looked and certain he would be annoyed with me. To my surprise, he stood and joined me at the door. “I’ll show you how to use it.”
With his hand at the small of my back doing weird things to my insides, he guided me back to the pantry and the coffee station. I watched carefully, taking obsessive notes in my head, as he made his espresso. It was, thankfully, easier than it looked, and I tried to memorize each step in my head.
Mr. Steele set the espresso cup on the station without taking a sip, his dark eyes studying me. I squirmed under his gaze and flushed with shame when he said, “No fidgeting, Charlotte.”
I forced my body to be still as Mr. Steele continued to stare at me. Finally, he said, “Tell me why you’re upset.”
I blinked at him before saying, “I’m not upset, Mr. Steele.”
He sighed and stepped closer until his big body nearly brushed mine. He pressed one finger under my chin, tipping my face up to his, and a hot tremor of excitement went through me at just that simple touch.
“I would prefer if you didn’t lie to me, Charlotte. Especially during a play session. Honesty and clear communication are needed to make this… partnership work.”
“I’m upset because I couldn’t figure out how to work the espresso machine. I had to ask you how to use it, and I failed at the task you gave me.”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “How does it make you feel to know that I consider you asking me for instructions to be a success rather than a failure of your task?”
“Why would you think that?” I asked with honest confusion.
“Not knowing how to do something or asking questions isn’t a sign of failure,” he said. “My preference is for you to ask me if you need help or guidance, rather than muddle through it and potentially break a rather…” his slight grin turned my insides to mush, “pricey espresso machine.”
“I hate looking incompetent,” I admitted.
“That’s fair. Over the next few weeks, we’ll work on helping you realize that learning something new does not equal incompetence. Are you agreeable to that?”
“Yes, Mr. Steele,” I said.
That slight grin grew, revealing a faint dimple in his right cheek and laugh lines around his eyes. “That’s my good girl.”
My pussy gushed at the approval in his voice, and mild alarm washed over me. I’d craved and sought praise from others my entire life, sure, but I’d never had this intense of a reaction. I’d gathered my courage and asked a previous boyfriend to call me a good girl in bed, but while he’d been willing, it hadn’t made me feel this way. Maybe because there’d always been a sense of falseness to it. A knowledge that while he was fine with this bedroom game, that’s all it was to him… a game. In actuality, he didn’t want or need me to be his good girl.
But with Mr. Steele… I barely knew him, but I instinctively knew he craved my obedience as much as I yearned to give it.
Mr. Steele applied more pressure under my chin, tilting my head higher, his dark eyes focused on my mouth. More heat erupted in my core, and I parted my lips, hoping he’d take the hint. Earlier today, I’d been sick to my stomach at the idea of being intimate with a stranger. Now, I was nearly desperate for just one kiss.
To my delight, Mr. Steele didn’t disappoint. He bent his head, and I closed my eyes as his firm lips brushed against mine in a soft caress I felt down to my toes. He kissed me repeatedly with those same soft movements until I made a low sound of impatience and flicked my tongue out to lick his bottom lip.
Immediately, his arm slid around my waist, and I gasped when he pulled me against his hard body. I clutched at his arms, clinging to him as he angled his head and took the kiss deeper. He explored my mouth with soft licks and nips, his tongue brushing against mine.
I moaned into his mouth, my brain already short-circuiting and my body trembling. I’d never once been kissed like this, and I wasn’t prepared for the aching need spreading through my body.
Mr. Steele’s big hand slipped under my shirt, and I cried out when he cupped my naked breast. My nipple was a hard pearl against his palm, and I arched into his touch, needing more.
“Please,” I moaned. “Mr. Steele, please.”
His fingers plucked at my nipple, and pleasure shot straight to my core. I rocked my hips against him, parting my thighs eagerly when Mr. Steele nudged them with his own. He pressed his thigh against my pussy, and I fought and won against the urge to hike my skirt around my waist so there was only the thin fabric of his pants between my pussy and his warm skin.
