Page 196 of Key of Kink

I settled my hands on his knees. “My first Dom was called Simon.”

“You had a Dom?

I laughed. “Did you think I suddenly decided one day that I was a Dom and that was that?” I smiled. “We hadn’t been together for very long when Simon told me I didn’t have to know what I was yet. So we talked about submission. Then I tried it.”

“Let me guess. You didn’t like it.”

“It wasn’t a case of not liking it, more that realising being dominant settled me.” I sighed. “I learned so much with him.” Then I paused. “Simon believed that if you’re going to guide someone through an experience, you should understand it from the other side.”

Quinn’s gaze sharpened. “He topped you.”

“Yes.”

“Because he thought you needed to know what it felt like.”

“Yes.”

Quinn absorbed that quietly. “And did it help?”

“Immensely.”

His mouth curved. “So theoretically…”

I sighed. “Quinn.”

He gave me an innocent glance that didn’t fool me for an instant. “What?”

“You’re thinking about this far too enthusiastically.”

He grinned. “Of course I am.” Then he leaned forwards. “You trust me, right?”

The question landed with surprising force. Trusting Quinn had somehow become instinctive.

“Yes.” I didn’t break eye contact. “And that’s not something I say lightly.”

Quinn’s expression softened for a moment, the humour giving way to something warmer. “Good.” Then his eyes twinkled. “Because I’m having a thought.”

“That’s rarely reassuring.”

He laughed, then pulled his T-shirt over his head in one fluid motion and tossed it onto the floor.

My heartbeat kicked up a notch.

Before I could comment, he shifted closer, his thighs sliding over mine until the distance between us disappeared. Quinn’s hand came up to rest at the back of my neck, and he brushed his thumb along my jaw.

“You know what I like about you?” His voice was low and sensual.

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“You listen.” He leaned in, his lips finding mine in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, no urgency in it at all. When he drew back, his forehead rested against mine. I drank in the silence, the scent of him, the warmth of his hand.

Then he drew back and gave me a searching glance.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured. “Not because I asked.” A small smile touched his mouth. “But because you want it too.”

For a moment I didn’t answer.

Quinn watched me quietly, his hand still resting at the back of my neck, warm and steady. There was no pressure in his touch, no expectation.