Finding Master Right (7 page)

His brow arched. “You’re still turned on.”

“So are you,” she shot back.

He exhaled a pained sound. “Fuck, you make me crazy.”

“What did I do?”

“You’re always challenging me,” he almost growled.

His Dom side was freakin’ hot. Part of her wanted to tease him, and then run, just to see if he’d chase her. She wanted to test the predator she saw lurking below. The other part of her—the one
not
controlled by her girly bits—remembered one important thing.

“I’m not yours,” she pointed out. And for a moment, she almost wished she was.

Just like that, the magic was gone. He blinked, then sat back, his face full of regret. “I know. We’re supposed to be finding you someone else.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat before picking up the forgotten piece of paper from the floor. Fingers shaking, she ignored his apologetic look and focused on the checklist instead. One thing was clear, she couldn’t let herself get swept away again. Guys like him didn’t hurt for dates. There were submissives all over the world ready to throw themselves at a Dom’s feet, especially one who looked like him.

In situations like this, the too-tall, stubborn screwup would be the one left reeling. She had to remind herself of that. “So, what now?”

With his back straight, face stern, Banner flipped to business mode in a matter of seconds. “I think you have potential to be submissive, and I think you want it, but you’re your own worst enemy when it comes to actually doing it.” He slung his arm across the back of the couch. “Here’s the thing when it comes to getting a Dom: if you come across as too challenging, most will think you’re only playing at it. There are a lot of women calling themselves subs who just want someone to dote on them. Or they want to get tied up once in a while. And that’s fine, if you just want some bedroom kink, but to win over a serious Dom, someone that will push you and tap into your fantasies, you need to show some of your submissiveness.”

She despised the idea of giving someone that right without them having earned it. Before she could protest, he put a hand up to stop her.

“Now, I don’t mean you need to fall at his feet and kiss his boots. But bratting and being rebellious won’t give people the idea that you’re serious.”

“I’m not bratty!” She almost pouted.

He laughed. “No. For the right person, you’d be nothing short of a very good girl.”

Was that better or worse? She scrunched her nose, trying to ignore the way his saying
good girl
went straight inside her.

“With Trev, you put out some strong fuck-you vibes.” Again, he stopped her when she went to protest. “Granted, he wasn’t the right guy for you, but you’ll push almost everyone away doing that. Why are you guarding yourself? What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, looking down at her fingers. “I just don’t know how to be any different.”

“You do for me.” She could hear satisfaction in his voice.

Although her first instinct was to deny it, there was no point. The question was: how did he manage it? The urge to submit to him kept catching her off guard.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, you seem to flip that switch somehow. You sure you want a slave?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. Way to sound desperate. She didn’t even know if he felt anything more toward her than an obligation to save her from her stupidity.

“I’ve had submissives of all kinds over the years. Unfortunately, my needs are pretty specific. It’s just who I am.” He almost seemed sad about it. Banner—a god among men—sad about the way he was born? It was laughable. Then again, naturally good-looking people often didn’t know how lucky they were.

“But, why a slave? Do you just want someone servicing you all the time? Like a free maid that you screw every night?”

His eyes narrowed, and she wanted to kick herself. She’d gone too far. Instinctively, her gaze dropped. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.” He didn’t sound angry, but she didn’t know him well enough to be sure.

Hesitantly, she lifted her eyes.

His silence dared her to say more. “I’m just confused,” she hedged. “
Slavery
is such a yucky word. I don’t understand the dynamic. Why would anyone relatively sane want that?”

His chuckle was humorless. “Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.”

With a sigh, he hung his head back for a moment before answering. She knew that look. She’d been on the receiving end of it before.
Why, oh why, Kate, must you ask so many questions?
Her aunt used to give her that same look.

“As a Dom, there’s nothing more satisfying than having a woman’s absolute trust and adoration. There’s a high that comes with being given that power. As a Master, it’s different. A Dom owns a sub for the time they’re together, or during a scene, or in the bedroom. For a Master,” he paused, as if considering his words carefully. “The girl is mine. Period. No time limit. No off switch. And when a woman agrees to be mine, she’s placing her heart in my hands and trusting that I’ll keep it safe. In return, I provide for her, I protect her, I control her pleasure, but I also give her pain and demand she take it for me.” His eyes darkened, she could almost see the sadism rising in them. “I take a lot, but I give more. There is no stronger bond. Not marriage, not fancy words or vows, not rings or matching tattoos . . . Nothing.”

Words swirled in her mind, causing a torrent of emotions. Being controlled and forced to take pain prickled at her inner feminist.
Protection
,
trust
, and
admiration
sounded perfect, but
owning
and
mastering
weren’t for her. Not only because trusting someone that implicitly seemed dangerous and unhealthy, but also that she just wasn’t into servitude. Fetching slippers, eating off the floor, following orders twenty-four-seven . . . She’d rather die an old spinster with an oversized collection of cat figurines than live at someone’s beck and call.

She sighed. “This is frustrating. Maybe I’m in over my head.”

“No. I think you just need someone to train you.”

She grimaced.

Chuckling, he added, “Someone very patient.”

“What about you?”

His brows shot up. “Me? I told you, I’m looking for a slave.”

“But yesterday you said you’d give me tips. Maybe we take this a step further and you,” the word was difficult to get out, “
train
me. Teach me what Doms want so I don’t keep ruining my chances.” Though, sucking knowledge from him wasn’t fair without offering something in return. “I could pay you,” she added, shrugging. “Or something.”

He scowled at her. “I’m not something that can be bought.”

“Oh.”
Right. Idiot.
She hated when men treated her like a cheap object, and she’d just done that to him.

“No. I mean I wouldn’t take your money. The idea isn’t bad though. I can teach you to submit while introducing you to some of my friends and making sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Her gaze shot to his. “Really? You’d do that?”

“Yes, but you have to listen to me. When we’re together, you’re mine. You try your best, and you learn. You sure you want to do this?”

Was she? He’d take this seriously, she knew that already. Training. Like a dog. It left a nasty taste in her mouth. How could such a cool guy like Banner want that in a woman? But if she had to put up with a bit, in order to experiment with a skilled Dom, then she’d do it.

“Yes, but I have limits.”

“Of course. I do too. That’s what the list is for.”

“You have limits?”

“What? Because I’m a Dom I’m not allowed to have things I don’t want to do?” He tilted his head. “I’m a person first, Kate.”

She gave him a sly look. “Do you get a safeword too?”

“Absolutely not. My safeword is no. There’s no such thing as dubious-consent domming. That’s taking topping from the bottom to the extreme.”

“Huh?”

He sat back and sighed. “‘Topping from the bottom’ is when the sub tries to manipulate the scene or relationship and take control.” Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’ll bet you’d be pretty good at that.”

She scowled.

“I’ll warn you now though. I won’t tolerate it. You try that shit with me and you’ll end up getting punished. If you don’t want to go that far, then we’ll have to end the arrangement.”

Still scowling, she asked, “So it’s your way or the highway?”

He chuckled. “That’s the way this works, pet.”

Mmmm. The way he said “pet” conjured up so many ideas . . .

She pushed those dirty thoughts aside. What was she—a teenage boy?
Focus.

Was it worth it? Submitting to training, submitting to punishment if she wasn’t behaving to his standards? She shuddered, then hated herself for it. That should not be turning her on. She was philosophically opposed to this. A lesson on behaving more submissively, she could tolerate. Punishment and serious training was a stretch.

But, he was hot, and it’d give her experience to work with. Maybe, at the end of this, she’d catch a great guy. She didn’t want to die alone. Her biological clock was ticking. This wasn’t just about sex . . . Okay, it was a lot about sex, but eventually, she wanted a man who was as good in the bedroom as he was in the kitchen and workplace too. Did Doms make good fathers?

One step at a time. She gave her head a shake. “Okay. We’ll give it a try. So, what are you getting from this deal?”

He shrugged. “I’m bored, and you’re interesting.”

She waited for more, but he only stared at her. Was that it? Well, at least he hadn’t said he was doing it so he’d have something to go home and jerk off to. She grimaced. Even if it were true, she was glad he was too classy to say so.

A moment later, his eyes turned heated, as if there was something more he wasn’t telling her. She was beginning to be able to read his body language. When he relaxed, he teased her with his eyes crinkled at the corners. When he snapped into predator mode, his body tensed, his gaze grew sharp. He didn’t look her over like a pervert on the street. Instead, he held eye contact in such a commanding way that it froze her in place without him needing to utter a word. She could tell he was very, very good at what he did. Someday, he’d make a slave girl very happy.

For the next few hours, they talked about everything—their jobs, the checklist, stories from past partners. She was surprised how often he made her laugh, despite the stern look he often wore. He had a quiet humor that popped up at unexpected times.

When it grew late and she started yawning, they made a plan to meet up later in the week to start their training.

After he’d left, she crawled into bed, her body still humming with sexual tension. Her fantasy from earlier came back full force, now including more details about Banner: his smell, the way his arms flexed as he moved, the feel of his mouth on hers. She came loudly to the vision of herself on a leash, Banner holding the other end tightly in his fist.

Chapter 4

Rook stuffed his mouth with cotton candy, his black hair ruffling in the breeze coming from the roller coaster. He looked more relaxed than Banner had seen him in ages. The fair had been a good plan. Maybe mixing candy with rides wasn’t the best idea, but it was a sad state of affairs when a kid’s big brother couldn’t be a bad influence.

And on the subject of bad influences . . . Banner’s mind drifted back to Kate and their deal, and he checked his phone.

Nothing. He was starting to wonder if she was actually going to show up tomorrow. He’d sent a list of his expectations earlier in the week, and she hadn’t responded. Ambrose had insisted he send only one text, but her silence was tying him in knots. Should he make backup plans so he wouldn’t be sitting around alone, like a dork, when she didn’t show?

“You need to find a nice girl and settle down and have a couple of kids,” Rook said. “That would make Mom happy.”

Silence fell between them for a moment. Making their mother happy was a subject Rook brought up a lot. Definitely not something a teenager should be so worried about. Wasn’t he supposed to be working hard to piss her off?

“Rook, it’s not our job to make other people happy. Mom hasn’t gotten over missing Dad yet, and until that happens nothing much will cheer her up. Not counseling and not pills, although they help. She needs to decide she wants to live again, and we can’t force her to feel that way. Not even with a grandchild.”

There were still days when she went to bed with “migraines” and didn’t get up again until the next morning. It was hard on all of them, but on Rook most of all. He had Banner and Meadow, but even siblings old enough to be parents weren’t a substitute for the real thing. At least Meadow lived with them and directed the household staff when need be, but she didn’t understand their little brother. He’d thought about moving the boy in with him, but a teenager living with a bachelor would be a lonely life.

“Besides, I’m not responsible enough to be a father. Girls usually run screaming from me. I won’t be getting married anytime soon.”

“Me neither.”

“You might get married sooner than I do.”

“Not unless they change the law.”

Banner pinched his cheek and Rook swatted him away. “In a few years I’m sure the law will have changed. If it hasn’t we’ll all drive to another state for the wedding.”

His brother was nodding, looking lost in thoughts too serious for a fourteen-year-old.

“Did you tell Mom yet?”

Rook pressed the toe of his Converse sneaker into the dirt. “She’s got enough to bring her down. She doesn’t need to deal with me coming out.”

He put his arm around Rook’s shoulder and squeezed. His brother leaned into him.

“Mom’s mental health isn’t your battle. Staying in the closet to protect her is sweet, but you deserve to be happy and out, if you want to be out.”

“You gave up your dream job to follow in Dad’s footsteps and rot out children’s teeth.” He shrugged. “I’ve had a selfless role model.”

Dreams. The thought brought Banner back to when he’d tried to make a living painting and selling his art. The starving artist thing had been great as he’d traveled through Europe, staying in hostels, but he wasn’t young anymore. Sure, he’d fallen in love with Sweden when he was there, and he’d hated leaving it to come home when his father’s health started waning, but he’d known he couldn’t do it forever.