He tilts his head. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“Wow.” I can’t help but laugh. “You’re very condescending.”
“Is it condescending if you’re right?”
He pauses for a second, like he’s considering something. “Care to let me prove it to you?”
“I’m not having sex with you,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“I didn’t say anything about sex, but I do intend to make you come.” He takes a step closer, and holds out my hand. “You come with me, and for fifteen minutes, you do exactly as I say. I can show you that you’re kidding yourself when you say that you don’t need this.”
“And this is the part where I go with you and you kill me?” I say sarcastically. But the way he’s looking at me, with that fire from the dance floor, has me leaning forward to give him a better view. The idea of an orgasm with this man is infinitely appealing. It’s been way too long since I’ve been given one that was better than my vibrator. A long damn time.
“If you’re uncomfortable, say ‘Red,’ and everything stops. It’s almost a universally recognized safe word.”
“What’s your name, anyway?”
He doesn’t break the stare. “Matthew Forester.”
I stand up, wanting to be closer eye- level even though he still towers over me. Being close to him triggers a sense memory of that kiss, and I feel like I’m being pulled toward him despite standing still. “Tell me why I should do this, Matthew.”
“What do you have to lose? Be a submissive for fifteen minutes. Even if I’m wrong—which I’m not—you’ll still have an amazing orgasm.”
“You’re awfully confident,” I say, furious at myself for being so breathless.
He leans closer. “I have good reason to be.”
We’re still for a moment, breathing each other’s air, and I’m wracking my brain for any reason why I should say no to this. I’m not coming up with anything, and the way he’s smiling tells me that he knows it. “Fine,” I say. “Fifteen minutes.”
Matthew holds out his hand, inviting me to give him mine. I do, and he wraps my hand in a firm grip. “Understand that when I say that you’re a submissive for the next fifteen minutes, you are, Emma. I’m not a Dom who likes hesitation or partial commitment.”
I smirk at him. “I’ll hold up my end of the bargain if you hold up yours.”
“Deal,” he says, leading me out of the ballroom.
The hallways of the hotel are deserted this late at night, but Matthew still leads me down several hallways until we’re somewhere dark and even more deserted. I have no idea what makes him pick this spot, but I’m suddenly up against the wall, the solid mass of him pressed up against me in a way that tells me he’s just as turned on as when we were dancing.
“Dark hallway,” I say, trying to keep my head. “I’m beginning to think you lied about killing me.”
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t rise to my flirting bait, his face is serious and filled with hunger. “I didn’t give you permission to speak.”
That familiar rage rises up in me and I’m about to kick him when I see just a hint of a smile on his face. “Fifteen minutes, remember?”
Unfortunately, I do. I press my lips together to keep from snapping at him. I made him a promise. If he doesn’t want me to talk, fine. We’re not here to talk anyway.
“Hands above your head.” His tone doesn’t leave any room for argument, and I raise my hands. Matthew catches them, crossing them at the wrists and holding them captive in one hand. He’s strong—I might as well be wearing handcuffs for all that I’d be able to pull away from him, and my heart beats a little bit faster at the thought. He said to say ‘Red’ if I’m uncomfortable, but I’m not yet, even if my body instinctually recognizes danger.
“If we had more than fifteen minutes,” he says softly, “there are lots of things that I could do to show you what this life is about. But right now, it’s simple. Submission isn’t about me holding you down for sex, or about you becoming a doormat. It’s about trust, and offering something to one another. At the most basic level, you offer me power over you in exchange for pleasure, and I offer you freedom from having to make every decision.”
The most basic level, he said. What are the other levels? But now he’s kissing me and I can’t think because I’m once again on fire. Hot arousal rolls through me like a wave, and I moan, unable to help myself. Matthew simply chuckles against my lips and deepens the kiss, as if he knew that I would react this way.
I want more of him. More, more, more is the chant in my brain, and I try to move, to pull him closer, but I can’t. Shock and frustration hit me as I remember that I can’t move my arms. He has them pinned against the wall and all I can do is let him kiss me. My breath goes short in my chest, and I realize that he’s made me wet again. Damn him for being such a good kisser, because that’s all it is. I’m turned on from the kiss, and not from the fact that he’s restricting my movement.