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“I don’t think I will.”
“You will,” he said, nodding. “I can smell your arousal—spicy and sweet and the dress you have on does nothing to disguise your stiffened nipples. You will because you are intrigued and sense what could be between us. You will because I told you to put it on, and you disobeyed. Let this be a small object lesson in the consequences for willful behavior.”
She turned her back on him. He was almost ready to beat her to the door to ensure she didn’t escape. He was restrained when she reached for the knob to lock it.
“No, malenkaya. The door remains unlocked.”
“Someone could walk in…”
“They could, and they would see you naked and waiting for your Dom’s instructions. Take your clothes off, fold them up and place them in the middle of my desk so even when we have left anyone coming in will know you paid a price for your disobedience. Strip. I won’t tell you again.”
“Wha—what would you do?”
“I would send you home. I chose you because I thought your courage and boldness matched my own. Once you wear my collar, I would spank you until you convinced me the disobedience would not happen again.”
She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly as her hand reached for one of the spaghetti straps that held up the ecru bohemian lace dress and slipped it over her shoulder.
CHAPTER 6
VIKTOR
Maybe someday he would share with her how he too had been holding his breath. He had kept his word. He hadn’t lied to her. He would have sent her home only so he could fall back, regroup, and figure out how to claim her. He believed in the lifestyle. He believed in consent in everything but this one woman. There was something about her that called forth a long-suppressed need to control and dominate—not just a situation or a scene or a sexual encounter, but this woman. One woman. How the hell had he gotten himself into this?
What was it about Emerson Ravenel that made him want to take her home and never let her leave him? It didn’t really matter, and the question was more intellectual than anything else. From the moment he’d seen her at the gala, he’d known she was meant to be his and his alone. Fitz had once told him when the right woman came along, nothing and nobody would be able to stop him from claiming her. Damn. The Scotsman was right.
“Now, malenkaya, either take off your clothes and place them on my desk, or I will have you taken home.”
“You don’t have to be such a hard ass. This is all new to me. I didn’t even know what the letters stood for until I googled it.”
“Then you should understand that D is for Dominant, and s is for submissive. In case you’re unsure, I am the former; you are the latter.”
Sighing, Emerson dropped the dress, letting it puddle at her feet. Neither the serviceable bra nor the cotton hipster panties were acceptable. Viktor shuddered with revulsion. Once she had signed the contract, he would have new lingerie bought and sent to her.
When she’d placed the clothing on his desk, he picked up the bra and panties, walked back around to his desk drawer, opened it and pulled out a pair of scissors, with which he cut the offensive underwear into shreds.
“Hey! You can’t do that,” she protested.
Viktor tossed the disgusting material into his trash bin. He’d made sure that anyone emptying would know that they once belonged to a woman and would surmise it was the same woman whose dress was neatly folded on his desk. He managed to choke down a chuckle when Emerson realized what he’d done and how he’d done it.
“I just did.” He circled his finger as he picked up his scotch with the other hand and came back to lean against the front of his desk. It was comfortable, but he’d taken a stance that was sure to show the state of his arousal. “Slowly. Turn around. Let me see you.”
She hesitated. “I don’t know that I signed up for this.”
“Yes, you do. Obey me. Let me teach you. Give yourself over to me, malenkaya.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“Malenkaya? It is a Russian term of endearment. It means little one. Turn around, Emerson.”
Taking a deep breath, she turned so he could look at her. God, but she was built for fucking. A beautiful, true hourglass figure; a nicely rounded ass; strong, shapely legs, and when she turned around, she couldn’t decide whether to try and cover her generous breasts or her neatly-trimmed pubic area. She tried to cover both and failed miserably.
“Remove your hands, Emerson. Your body is mine to enjoy however I see fit. Have you always trimmed your pubic hair like that?”
“No, and it hurt like hell.”
He chuckled. “You will get used to it. I’m glad you didn’t remove all of it. I haven’t decided how I’d like it to be presented to me, but these…” he said, coming up to cup her breasts, enjoying the heavy weight of them and how pert and proud her nipples were. He flicked the nipples. “… These are gorgeous. They are really calling out for some kind of jewelry. I can’t decide if it should be permanent or situational only.”
“Viktor, please,” she said quietly.
