He shifted his weight and pulled out slowly. The loss created an emptiness that extended further than just her core. As he swung his legs over, he helped her up so they sat side-by-side.
She frowned, realizing he’d sat beside her, not at her feet.
Without permission, he curled his fingers around her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry. I intended this as a simple way to pass time, nothing more.” She squeezed his hand with her free one and tugged free. “I think you might have more kink than either of us suspected, but, Ben, you’re not a slave.”
His gaze stayed on her face. “And?”
“And for anything other than a…well, a non-involved one-time-only, I confine myself to experienced slaves who know what it’s all about.”
“Warning understood. What if I want another…non-involved…time?”
She rose, instinctively needing to be higher than him, to influence him to listen. He needed to hear her now. She set her hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. When she cupped his jaw, the rigidity of his muscles confirmed her worries. She should be whipped for forgetting how easily newbies could think the bond created during a D/s scene meant…more.
She knew better. Early in her Domme days, she’d made the mistake of thinking a submissive was equivalent to a slave. But although both types might give up control, a slave wanted to surrender…everything. As a Mistress, she wanted it all.
Being unable to meet her needs had hurt those submissives—and hurting them had damaged her as well. She wouldn’t do that again.
“I’m sorry, Ben, but another time wouldn’t be wise.” Feeling his flinch, she had to force herself to stay the course. She pulled him to his feet. “There’s a bathroom across the hall.”
“Got it.” His eyes showed his unhappiness as he grabbed his jeans.
Silently, Anne rose and dressed. How could she have been so foolish? She’d wounded this amazing man in a way she’d never intended.
He was gone within ten minutes. She gave him a “nice” kiss at the front door, one that permitted her lips but held none of “her,” and she could see he knew the difference.
Didn’t like the difference.
She didn’t like the difference either. She headed back up the stairs, feeling weariness tugging at her as if she were still wearing the heavy weapons belt and body armor. In trying not to wound him…she’d still hurt him. She felt as if she’d kicked a puppy.
But, what was the alternative? She didn’t do relationships—not “emotional” ones, anyway. Long and long ago, she’d learned that she wasn’t the type of person who did well with the love stuff. It was even more risky than friendships.
As she moved toward the bed, she realized she smelled of sex and a faint hint of Ben’s woodsy soap. Turning, she went into her huge master bath, stripped, and flicked on the rain shower.
The water poured down over her, but nothing could wash away her feeling of guilt.
Nonetheless, no matter how awful she felt now, the greater crime would be allowing Z’s man to fall for someone who couldn’t return the emotion.
Chapter Five
That weekend, Ben sat at his desk in the Shadowlands entry…and planned.
Anne hadn’t been in last night…but she was here now. He had a chance.
In that one afternoon with him, Anne had gone from a warm, willing woman to one wearing more armor over her emotions than a soldier wore to protect his guts.
Okay, he understood the slave versus submissive stuff to a degree. But…she’d sure seemed to be enjoying herself while they were interacting. And fuck knew, he had. Then she’d totally shut down.
His best guess was that her exhaustion—and the exhilaration of Sophia’s birth—had lowered her defenses, and she’d let him get too close. Over the past years, he’d watched her with her slaves, and she’d always been in control. Always reserved. Emotions always guarded.
Just as Z had said.
Hell, when she’d come in tonight, unfortunately with a crowd of other members, she’d smiled at him politely. As if he didn’t know what she felt like beneath him, how she tasted, how her coolness hid passion and…sweetness.
Yeah, Ben wanted the woman—and the Mistress—beneath those barriers. He’d seen her, held her, made love to her.
He’d analyzed his target. Studied that fucking armor of hers, evaluated her strength and her reserves, considered her possible choices for action. Unfortunately, he’d have to operate on her terrain, the Shadowlands. But he had a tentative plan for tonight, initiating movement and making a personal reconnaissance.