When he rolled her nipples between his hard fingers, edgy pain joined the sensual collage, and her body shuddered. Her whole core had become one giant nerve.

“Pretty little Abby. I like seeing your eyes go unfocused.” His voice was a low murmur, a soothing background to the upheaval inside her.

She wanted to say something, only couldn’t escape the hold her body had. Too many things were divorcing her brain from any ability to process. Her insides coiled as the pressure grew higher and higher, but never, ever enough.

Her legs tried to draw together to rub her burning, aching clit. Nothing would move. Her hands fisted as another wave of heat rolled over her. She stared up at him helplessly.

He leaned forward, his gaze trapping her, so dark and direct and pleased that a whimper escaped her.

“That’s a good sound. You’re ready, aren’t you?” He moved his left hand between her legs, and his lubed fingers rubbed her clit with featherlight strokes. Even the lightest friction… She moaned as her core contracted around the vibe tightly that vibrations shook her body. The pressure grew with each slow stroke of his slick fingers, coiling tighter and tighter. Her back arched, holding, holding…

Then his finger firmly pressed on her clit even as he wiggled the vibrator in a circle. Outside sensations and inside ones merged in a glorious rush, knotting and blowing apart. A tidal wave of pleasure broke over her. Her insides convulsed, tightening around the vibrator, and the feeling of being penetrated sent her higher.

Xavier’s fingers slid over her clit, and another breaker hit, shoving her further into the ocean of sensation. Drowning her in it. She gasped for breath and quaked as lingering waves rolled over her.

Her body eased down in shuddery jerks until she could feel her heart and hear herself breathing.

“Very nice,” Xavier said, his low, smoky voice filled with approval. “Go again.” He leaned down and blew.

The gust of air slid first over her pussy, chilling the ointment, and then over her clit, where heat erupted like a volcano. Her body arched up in a terrifying convulsion of pleasure before dropping her back limp to the table.

THE LITTLE FLUFF certainly wasn’t thinking of anything else at the moment.

Pleased, Xavier watched her pant for breath. Sweat-dampened hair clung to her temples, and her face had turned a gorgeous pink. She stared up at him with unfocused gray eyes. He changed gloves again and tugged on the vibrator. She gave a delightful gasp, and her cunt clenched, trying to keep it in.

A shame he couldn’t replace the toy with his cock.

He kept an eye on her expressions as he removed the peppermint, cinnamon, and hot pepper ointments with the various cleaning agents he thought best. Nothing worked perfectly, and she’d still have a residue of heat. Then again, he rather enjoyed knowing a scene would linger, not only in a submissive’s mind but also on her body.

He released the restraints and put her glasses back on. Not that she was seeing much. He gently sat her on the floor at his feet and tucked a blanket around her. She sagged against the table leg as he cleaned the scene area and handed off his bag to a staff member.

After taking a bottled water from the nearest service stand, he lifted her into his arms.

She squeaked and froze.

He grinned. Submissives had the sweetest startle reflexes. “Shhh.” He rubbed his chin on her silky hair. “I’ve got you, Abby. Take a breath.”

Not moving, he waited, willing to stand all night until she relaxed. Until she physically showed him the trust he wanted. The submission he demanded.

Her little body stayed stiff, and he knew her instincts would be screaming that he might let her fall. After an orgasm, she was very vulnerable, very open to emotions. Holding her like this, keeping her both dependent on him and safe, would start building the trust she needed to have in him.

A minute. Two. Her exhausted body melted.

“There we go.” He kissed her hair, pulling her closer. She was so soft. Not light, but she had a nice heft that let him know he held a woman. Someone who wouldn’t break under his weight and his size.

No, don’t go down that path. She was his receptionist, not his submissive. But even as he’d pulled her into the play, she’d involved him just as deeply.

Of course he could tell himself the scene tonight was just a lesson given to a staff member.

He tried not to lie to himself. He’d enjoyed this scene far more than mere instruction would warrant. He wanted to play with her again, to see how much further he could take her. To hear and feel her response when he entered her. When he took her gently. Or roughly.

He settled into one of the oversize leather chairs in the center of the room. The unwritten, occasionally idiotic Dom rules said he should set her on the floor between his feet to reinforce her submission. With a shrug he pleased himself and adjusted her on his lap as comfortably as possible, considering her soft ass rested on his rigid cock.

Her damp skin held the light scents of an almond lotion and lingering cinnamon. Combined with the fragrance of her arousal, it made her smell like a sexual pastry.

No fucking the dessert, Leduc.

Instead he took her lips again, hard and rough, and felt her body sink further into submission.

She was quite a puzzle—wanting to submit yet fighting it.

An experienced Dom often played with submissives whose styles clashed with his. Xavier preferred being on the same wavelength, riding the high of anticipating a submissive’s responses, knowing exactly what to give her to elicit the reactions he wanted.

But this little fluff was a contradiction. Working with her was like searching for a favorite radio station in the mountains. The music between them was perfect…when he managed to get her tuned in.

He hadn’t had this much fun in a very long time. Wasn’t it a shame he couldn’t take her home and keep her?

Chapter Six

On Tuesday Abby nuzzled a furry body, grinning at the scent of puppy breath. “You are so cute,” she told the tiny fuzz ball. Sure, she’d said the same to the others, but she meant it each time. “You’re going to make someone a wonderful pet, and they’ll love you more than you can understand.”

Tippy stared into her eyes, licked her chin, and accepted every word she said.

“So why do you guys get someone to adore you, and I don’t?” If reincarnation existed, next life she’d demand to be a pampered pet. Snuggled and fed. And carried.

Who knew that being carried could be both scary and seductive? She shivered. Xavier had scooped her up like a puppy.

He’d held her in his lap as if he had nothing better to do. And when he’d kissed her, he’d made that approving sound low in his throat, the tone that turned her bones to melted butter.

Okay, getting a little warm here.

She returned the puppy to the wading pool. Tippy squirmed his way between blankets and siblings, earning small complaints, then, legs trailing, dropped into sleep. Wakened from his slumbers, Blackie rose and stumbled through the pile of bodies, trying to find a new place to settle.

That’s me, Abby thought, not able to fit in and blundering around. Bad enough in an academic setting where she mostly belonged, but in Dark Haven? Whew. She kept expecting someone to yell imposter and toss her out the door.

“Sleep tight, my dears.” Abby made herself a pot of tea, got her notebook, and stepped outside to her tiny half of a backyard. Her stepfather had given her the down payment for the duplex as a graduation gift—thank you, Harold—and the money from her renters paid the mortgage.

She set the tray on the small wrought iron table and took a chair. As the breeze whipped her baggy silk pants, she smoothed down her embroidered tunic top. She’d bought the salwar kameez in India and discovered that the soft materials made perfect lounging wear.

After pouring a cup of tea, she leaned back to enjoy the beauty of her yard. When in England, she’d fallen for the cottage gardens and duplicated them as closely as possible here.

Honeysuckle climbed the dark wooden fence that separated her yard from the other half. Morning glories were trellised along the back of the house. Behind the fragrant heritage roses, her hollyhocks had reached waist high. Patches of lavender, rosemary, and sage added the clean scent of herbs to the air. In the beds, zinnias, marigolds, and impatiens made bright splotches of color, and white-flowering geraniums in containers lightened her tiny patio.

At the sight of a few weeds, she stood, then sat again. No, she needed to work on her paper. Nibbling on the eraser, she considered and then wrote out her thoughts about her last weekend. When a physical description of a Domme slipped in, she erased it. She absolutely wouldn’t risk revealing anyone’s identity.

She was already in an ethical gray area. When does observation become invasive? Was it wrong to research dynamics at a football game without getting consent from the thousands of fans? How about a classroom? And what if the subjects were breaking the law or in an urban gang or alternative lifestyle? What if knowing they were being watched would change their interactions?

Not having their consent made her uneasy, but they seemed quite happy playing in front of other people, so would they really care?

She shook her head and concentrated. Would the tiny Dark Haven community be considered a family or a tribe or maybe a feudal society? The club members treated Xavier more like royalty than a father figure. Even the other Dominants deferred to him. He had “councilors” like Simon, and a Dom everyone called the Enforcer.