Stunned and thoroughly seduced, Kathryn hugged the far right lane as she drove home, barely breaking the speed limit. Her hijacked thoughts swayed back and forth to the tantalizing temptations of the past hour.
It dawned on her there was little evidence of their encounter. The bottle of water she was still nursing. The ghost of his touch on her body. And a note he’d slipped in her purse. The little square had the hotel logo at the top, with his phone number scribbled across it and two little words:
Kitten Tamer
I think he means kitten trainer.
The bashful smile previously pasted on her face widened.
His low, dark, raspy commands echoed in her thoughts. Under his spell, she’d obeyed.
Willingly.
Easily.
Without hesitation.
On all fours, she’d crawled across his lap and waited, painfully patient as her willpower yielded and her pleasure bloomed. All from him. His power. His control. His touch. Enslaved by his unconditional hold on her hot and bothered hoo-ha, and all without actual, bona-fide sex.
Her pussy was putty in his hands.
He seriously needs those babies insured, she thought as her mind drifted back to their time together . . .
* * *
He’d started slow—agonizingly slow—skating one lazy finger in a sensual trail up the back of her thigh. That same sexy finger she’d wanted to swallow whole. The way he worked it teased her with a taste of things to come, sending her straight past the cobwebs of a rarely tapped corner of her mind prominently labeled downright dirty.
He’d insisted she stay still while he worked. The sweet torture forced her hands to fist the comforter. Her breaths became choppy, erratic. On the verge of losing all control, she squirmed, aching for more of him. He had total control, and she handed it to him, a man who knew how to take that power and bend it to satisfy her deepest yearnings.
He could be anyone. Is that turning me on?
Her uncontrollable whimpers grew louder.
Definitely a turn-on.
Feathering her skirt hem across her skin, he’d lifted it up, finally resting it across her back, exposing her butt. The cool air against her hot skin had been a relief, pushing a sigh from her throat. Her panting had become so heavy and fast, she felt dizzy and dropped her head.
“Breathe,” he commanded in his deep voice.
No sooner had her inhale released than she felt the sting of his hand.
He’d slapped her ass.
Hard.
Her cry sliced across the room, so loud and unexpected, she’d tried holding it back. But the next smack drew out a throaty scream from her. It subsided as his hand rested across the fleshiest part of her ass, holding her skin . . . then caressing it before sliding across to the other cheek.
His other hand had wrapped around her throat, softly stroking her after each slap. His thumb brushed across the fullness of her bottom lip.
“More, kitten?” he’d asked, his voice raspy.
What he asked hadn’t been a real question. Or rhetorical. He’d said it more as if they both knew. She’d been thirsting to death on a desert island, and her body wanted to plunge into the deep end of this clear blue pool.
“Please,” she’d begged before sucking the thumb he’d pressed into her mouth.
As he delivered fierce smacks across her other cheek, her moaning sounded as if his thumb were covered in decadent dark chocolate.
Ready, she arched her back to receive another smack, and he’d dropped it so swiftly, a shudder cascaded from her dizzy head to her curling toes.
Much too soon, he pulled his thumb from her mouth and draped her skirt back over her stinging buttocks. Her head dropped as she struggled to keep herself up on all fours.
Without warning, he’d moved her to her back on the bed. Before she could ask, she’d been covered by the blanket again. With a tender kiss, it was over.
Half-panicked, she’d asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he’d insisted, taking her hand and brushing his hot lips against her fingers. “You’re perfect. And I’m human. It’s time to stop. You have all you need to think things over.”
With another kiss, both her breath and his deflated at the bittersweet judgment call.
* * *
How she’d gotten home, Kathryn couldn’t say, but before she knew it, her car pulled into the garage at the back of her condo. Killing the engine, she did out of habit. Aimlessly sitting there was out of necessity. Preoccupied, she continued in a weak attempt to process it all.
The lurid spanking session had left her . . . addicted.
He’s right. A BDSM dime bag was just the taste I needed to think things through.
She resigned herself to the only conclusion. I’m a sub.
And he was a god, a nameless, faceless stranger who lifted her sky high by commanding her to her knees. She’d give anything to feel the smack of his big, hot palm against her needy backside again.
What’s a good cooling-off period before I call?
He said call or text anytime.
Is that an hour? A day? More than a day?
Do I ask about his day?
Is this “dating”?
Tearing herself from the eternal treadmill of wandering thoughts, she finally got out of the car with a mental note to text Paco in the morning. Maybe there were books she could read, something like Ground Rules for Doms and subs, or Delving into BDSM for Dummies.
Deep in her thoughts, she walked on autopilot into the condo. Without thinking, she entered the dark but familiar hallway, dropping her purse and keys on the counter. She kicked off the mistake of a shoe buy and relaxed her feet on the cool tile of the floor.
My notebook. All her interviews had pages of chicken scratch and doodles, until she transferred her notes to her laptop. The six-by-nine, dollar-store notebook had at least two hours’ worth of work waiting for her.
But it was safely tucked away in the pocket of the driver’s-side door of her car. And her feet were insistently steered in the direction of the bathroom.
It can definitely wait. There’s no way I’m tackling work tonight. First things first.
She needed a shower, if for no other reason than to tango with the detachable showerhead and finish the job started by her ringmaster. Stepping farther inside, she flipped on the lights.
Then froze.
Her home was a disaster. Sofa cushions and pillows were scattered across the floor. Every drawer of her desk had been pulled out and flipped upside down. A disaster zone that could only mean one thing.
I’ve been robbed.
Distressed, she whirled around to grab the phone from her purse. A moment later, she felt it. For the second time that night, someone landed a blow on her body, but this time to her skull, knocking her to the floor.
Curled up and clutching her head, she slumped on the tile, overcome by confusion for a few seconds before she was swallowed by darkness.