Dark Desire by Lauren Smith (an ebook reader txt) 📗

crossed a line before, never had she wanted to. She was tired of being the good girl, tired of playing it safe. The hint of danger and the thrill of dark passion in Emery’s eyes was an escape, one she needed more than her next breath.

“I’ll give you anything. Name it and it’s yours. I came here knowing what to expect.” She threw a glance around the room, eyes touching briefly on the spanking bench before settling back on him.

He chuckled and brushed the pad of one thumb over her lips. “That’s a dangerous offer.” His hand dropped to her neck, his fingers curling around her throat, the touch a warning, but he didn’t hurt her.

“What if I demand you strip completely and I tie you to a St. Andrews cross and fuck you senseless? Or if I require you to walk through the main room and accept any intimate touch another dom wishes to give you? Would you agree to that? There are a thousand things I could ask of you that would not just push your limits but break them. You were spooked at the sight of one little bench, and that tells me everything I need to know. You may have studied domination and submission, but you haven’t lived it. The importance of this particular lifestyle is that one must always be safe, sane and consensual. Your offer shows no consideration for any of those, and half the doms outside would do things you might not consent to. You have natural submissive tendencies. It’s clear from the way you responded to my commands, but we aren’t in a vanilla sex world, Sophie. While this life demands trust, it is a dark world, full of fire, passion, loss of control. Are you truly ready for that?” The bite to his tone made her arousal sharp; her womb clenched in eagerness, even as she felt a cold sweat dew on her body as trepidation set in.

Sophie breathed deeply. He’d warned her, hadn’t just accepted her blanket offer. Trust. Even as scary as what he’d mentioned sounded, she also longed for a taste of that forbidden passion. She was hungry for it. But she needed to trust him in return.

“Would you really do those things?” She glanced away then forced her eyes back. He was watching her, the way a hawk at the tallest branches of a tree might survey a rabbit in the field below. Yet he was close, so incredibly close to her he could have kissed her.

With a sigh, Emery shook his head. “Absolutely, unless of course that fell within your hard limits. I’m not a saint, and I have only the semblance of being a gentleman, but I would respect your safe word. Sharing my bed would push you right to the edge of your limits. Lucky for you, I’m in no mood to bed a woman who inherently denies her submissive nature.”

“You think I’m a real submissive?” Sophie could hear the shock in her own voice. Was she truly? More importantly, could she trust him to keep his word and respect her safe word if she needed to use it?

“You are submissive. To the right man, you are. When I held you in my arms and commanded you to focus only on me, you did it without hesitation, without question. You submitted to me and it was a beautiful thing to behold. You’re too strong for most, but you still crave submission. Being a sub doesn’t mean you’re weak. It only means you need to surrender. Many weak people crave power, crave to hurt others, to take control, but they are still inherently weak individuals.”

Sophie knew that was the truth. She had met killers and murderers—pathetic examples of humanity. They were too weak to stand up for themselves when it mattered, and the resulting loss of power or control turned them toward paths of violent retribution on innocents. Such behavior was more common than it should be.

A sudden thought struck her. “What if…I let you teach me how to surrender?”

Curiosity flitted shadowlike in his eyes, but his wariness was stronger.

“I’m not sure I come out on top in this bargain. You might prove to be too much trouble.” Emery moved over to the spanking bench and sat down on the edge, seemingly unbothered by its real purpose. Sophie’s face heated with a treacherous blush.

It should have surprised her how much she did want to please him. He seemed an intricate puzzle and knowing her behavior was a partial key; she couldn’t help but wonder what doing his bidding would unlock.

He leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankles, and looked at her. She was still on her knees, hands clenched together, fingers knotted. Sophie studied him, traced the perfectly tailored suit that clung to his body like a second skin. He was every inch the rich recluse she’d heard him to be.

People spoke of him in sad whispers, their eyes full of pity. But when Sophie met Emery’s gaze, she couldn’t pity him. Sympathize? Yes. Pity? No. His expression of domination demanded obedience, respect, and not one second had passed where he’d let that expression falter, except when he’d stared at the picture from his past. Only then had she seen the other Emery, the one trapped in childhood memories. The one she had to save. For that was clear. Part of this man before her needed to be saved.

“I’m not sure bedding you is worth my tale of woe.” His tone sounded almost taunting, rather like he was reciting Shakespeare. He was mocking her!

Embarrassment flooded her face with heat, but her pride was pricked. Without a second thought she slipped off one shoe and threw it at him.

Thunk! It bounced off the solid wall of his muscular chest and dropped to the floor. He didn’t move an inch except to drop his eyes to the shoe, and then raise his gaze again. She could feel it passing over her body as he did so.

“You