Page 218 of Wait for Him

I spread them wide. Her scent hits my nose and pulls a grunt of pleasure out of me. Fuck, I'm getting impatient. I've never experienced anything like this in my life.

"You may look. Am I wet?"

My eyes drop and she’s glistening. It’s taking every ounce of my self control to behave and not caveman her right fucking here.

"Yes, ma'am." My voice actually shakes.

Her smile goes smug as she runs her long middle finger between her slick folds and slides it into my mouth. I close my lips around her finger and I have to clench my fists to keep from coming.

"And how do I taste?"

"Fucking heavenly, ma'am."

"Hmm. Such a good boy." She strokes my cheek with the same finger before giving the leash a short tug. "On your feet."

I stand, pitching the biggest tent of my life. Then she rises, pulls her dress over her head, and stands naked in front of the entire club.

“Shit, Rose.” Not only is her body ripped, she’s gotten tattoos. Black ink lines her abs. There is a phoenix bird under her breast bone. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” I run my fingers along the lines of her stomach.

For some reason, I feel emotional seeing this version of her. This strength she found both physically and emotionally.

She must sense the change in my head because she gives the leash a sharp tug. “We’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted with each other’s bodies. Let's take a tour." She takes up the leash and walks, me attached right behind her.

I follow her through the club while she gives me the tour, and I don't know which part is fucking with my head more: the fact that I'm walking behind a naked Rose on a leash, or the fact that every few feet somebody greets her like she's royalty.

"Good evening, Madame."

"Madame."

"Beautiful night, Madame."

By the second floor, I'm amused. By the third, I'm horny enough to chew through drywall. By the fourth, I've also become ridiculously proud again because every room we walk through gives me another piece of what she built.

"How long have you owned this place?"

"Years."

"Years?"

She looks over her shoulder. "You keep repeating things I've already answered."

"Because you keep saying insane shit very casually."

That gets a smile.

"Nobody else uses this room. It’s mine," she says as the door closes behind us. "I'm really glad it's you standing in it with me, Jackson."

She turns to face me and reaches for the collar around my throat. The buckle releases and I watch her remove the collar, but instead of setting it aside, she keeps it in her hands.

And now she's nervous again. I see it in the way she's rubbing her thumb over the leather, the way she takes a breath and doesn't immediately start talking. My excitement settles enough for me to pay attention.

"I've never been a switch," she says. "I've always needed complete and utter control. You know why."

She looks down at the collar, still rubbing her thumb across the leather.

"The ultimate show of trust for a Domme is handing control to her submissive. For me, after everything I've survived, it's..." She exhales and tries again. "It's a lot."

Yeah. I can see that.