Dominant Desires

SAMPLE - Chapter Three

"I need to talk to someone about this first, like my friend Natalie—"

He shakes his head, dismissively. "You can't tell anyone about this arrangement. This is highly confidential."

A soft whimper leaves me, vulnerability hitting me hard. As he turns around I inhale a long and anxious breath, before I silently follow Mr. Edwards back into his suite.

Resting on the living room table are the papers, the papers that will define whether not I chose to stay or leave. Instead of sitting he remains standing, holding his glass of wine, keeping his gaze intently on my every move. I sit on the couch and cross my legs, placing my glass onto the table.

"Can I ask you a few questions first?"

He sits beside me and makes himself comfortable. "Of course. Anything. But please, expect complete honesty. You may or may not like what you hear."

"You're a Dominant. What does that mean?"

He takes a quick sip of his wine. "It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me. Mind, body, and soul."

"Surrender?" I chew on my bottom lip. "What is a Submissive?"

"A Submissive is a person who makes a conscious choice to give up some, or all, control of her life to another person. To allow someone else to control your body and behavior within the preset limits in which are agreed upon by both parties."

"That sounds a lot like a slave."

"No. Submission is not only about rough, kinky sex, and chains and whips, although those things can and do play a part. It is much deeper than that. It comes from the heart. I know that might be difficult for you to understand, but submission is a choice. It will be a wonderful gift to me as your Dominant."

"Noted."

"You will do whatever I require of you, of course within the boundaries we've agreed upon. You'll serve me in whatever manner I wish, for my pleasure and my own comfort. When you behave, I will reward you. If you disobey me, I will punish you. That needs to be clear. Are you still with me, Ms. Pierce?"

I nod, swallowing hard. "Yes."

"Serving can also take many other forms too, such as cleaning, cooking, taking care of my house or running errands. You'll accompany me on outings as well. I don't consider my Subs my slaves. You need to wrap your head around that."

"How many women has there been?" I question, and his jaw tightens. "Just curious."

"Fourteen."

The moment I stand, a look of concern crosses his features.

"I don't know, Mr. Edwards. I haven't even heard anything regarding your rules yet. I'm getting light headed from overthinking, or maybe it's just the wine."

"Christ," He breathes, joining me across the room. "I figured this would be easy for you, considering your line of work, that is."

"Sorry to disappoint," I argue, forcing a laugh. "I'm under-qualified for this, really, I am—"

"That may be true, Sasha," he says, searching my eyes with heated passion. "Although, I'm always up for a challenge."

My nerves instantly kick in. "Maybe," I reply.

"You look exhausted. Sleep on it." He holds out his hand to me, and it takes me a few agonizing seconds before I accept. "You'll sleep in the guest room."

"Oh?"

"I chose to not share a bed with my Subs." We reach the door, and his guarded eyes meet mine. "Good night, Ms. Pierce. I look forward to seeing you in the morning."

Turning away, he appears to be distracted.

Pushing open the bathroom door, I strip off my clothes. The water trails down my body, my muscles finally relaxing from how tense I've become. I try desperately to let my mind go blank, so I don't have to think about this deal I'm being offered, but it's impossible.

Turning off the lights in the guest room, crawling sleepily into bed, I'm left pondering about the other end of this.

Thirty thousand dollars. It's worth it. I'll have the money.

But most of all, I'll have him.

~

Waking up to a gentle breeze against my skin, there's a blinding light shining in through an opened window. Slowly opening the door, I peak my head through the doorway.

There's a dull silence.

After making my way down the hall, I realize Mr. Edwards is nowhere to be found.

Standing only inches away from the master bedroom, I finally gather the courage to knock on the door, and there's no answer.

Since the door is slightly cracked, I open it further, and the sound of running water is heard. Without thinking it through, I find myself peaking inside the bathroom.

My gaze locks on the shower, the thin wall of glass allowing a blurry outlining of his body. His ass appears firm, and I can almost see the tone of muscle in his arms and back, while his hand runs through his hair. He is perfection.

God-like.

"Good morning, Ms. Pierce." His voice unexpectedly echoes, bringing me back to reality. "Did you sleep well?"

Embarrassment strikes me hard as I tuck a strand of hair nervously behind my ear.

"Yes, very well," I stammer.

The water stops running.

"I'm happy to hear that. Would you mind handing me that towel?"

Standing close, I hand him the towel and look away just in time, before he has the chance to step into my view.

The moment I look back to him, my heart races. The water drips softly down his hair. With his broad shoulders, solid chest, and toned abdomen, my knees feel like they are moments away from buckling.

My gaze travels down further, and I lay my eyes above the towel wrapped around his waist, enhancing the curve at his hips.

And it slips. "Oh, God."

"Not quite. Just me."

I'm rushing out of the bathroom before I know it, waiting patiently on the couch as the minutes pass by.

"For God's sake, Richard." Jaxon sounds outraged as he enters the room. "This was an utter waste of my time. It was your job to inform me about this yesterday the moment you had an official statement regarding the changed date. I'm done with this."

With that, he ends the call.

"Is everything all right?"

Jaxon Edwards has on a pair of nice, black dress pants along with a collared, dark blue, button up long sleeve shirt.

"It appears I won't be staying in New York after all. You need to decide by five o'clock. Today."

He slips his arms through his suit jacket, shrugging it on.

"Where is it, Mr. Edwards?"

"Where you left it."

Right.

My gaze meets the binding contract resting lifelessly on the table. I blink at him, unsure what to say. My hands are fidgeting on my lap, my palms are clammy, and all the color drains from my face. Thirty thousand dollars, I remind myself.

Who knew that such tiny, black words typed out on a piece of paper could have such a drastic impact on my life.

Jaxon Edwards sits beside me, and finally, I begin to read.