"See."

"But you weren't naked."

"Close. I don't have underwear on." Smiling, I stuck out my tongue tip, touching my upper lip. Then I laughed. "You should see the look on your face."

"That's because the idea of you sitting there without panties has given me an instant hard-on."

"Mmm." My smile widened. "Back on track, though. We can make love without you doing S and m. I know it."

"You do?" He sat back a little. "And you think after all I've done to you that I'll be satisfied with only making love?" His voice trailed off.

"Yes?" I squeaked. Was he saying what I thought he was? That he couldn't do this? Again, tears threatened. I was fragile as butterfly in a hurricane. Another word, the wrong one, and I would cry.

Slowly, he shook his head.

"Oh." I coughed, desperate to hold back those tears. My hand trembled under his.

The coffee cup in front of him was empty. One last gesture. I wanted to do this. To wash it. Then perhaps it would be best if he went. I'd be sad, but I could bear this.

"Let me wash your cup." Washing the dishes for him had become a symbol to me, of submission. I looked at him. "Let me? I need to do this."

His eyes shone. "No."

"Please?" This time tears welled in my eyes. I moved to reach for the cup but he restrained my hand under his.

"Shh. It's going to be okay. No, I won't be satisfied with only making love. Not after having you as my slave. Jodie, you should know how much I liked that-making you my slave. If we were together, I would want that again." His eyes did those small movements as if he were double-checking my expression. His next question ground out harshly. "Would you accept that?"

I couldn't look away. Was this him saying yes? Me, again, at his feet, not having a say in what he did to me? "I would die to have that again. But..." I inhaled. I had to take a stand. "Not always."

"No. Not always. Come here."

He'd changed his mind? Riveted by the possibilities, by the excruciating future that seemed almost here, I froze for an instant.

Shaking, I rose and went around the table to stand before him. He smoothed his hands around my back, then down to my thighs and up the sides, slowly raising the dress until he could look beneath at my mons.

"You are indeed naked. Pretty." He cupped my pussy and I gasped at the heat of his palm. "I remember you sitting on Damien at the party. That was so sexy." He paused and studied my face. "The alternative to me hurting you is of course you submitting to me utterly when we're at home and in private. If I want you to lick my shoes or kiss them, or to again sit on the floor at the table while I eat, will you?"

Hell. Why did that arouse me? My clit had instantly perked up. "Yes," I said, hoarsely. "I will. To me, I'm not sure how to explain it, but..." I stared at him pleadingly. "It's my way of loving you."

"I realize that." He sucked in a long shuddering breath, his fingers clamped onto my hip hard, and I heard the sound of his shoe scraping on the timber deck. His eyes were stone.

Whatever he was about to say, must be difficult for him to say. I waited, patient, yet churning up inside with tension.

"I'm not into the word love, Jodie, but you are the only woman for me. Always have been. Always will be. But, I have to ask this. Jodie, you'll trust me?"

"Yes." God, yes.

"Okay. I've done my penance. I see your point in that. I want to do small painful things to you that can't escalate into anything dangerous. I am going to trust you to safeword though. Say red if you need to. Okay? But only for pain. No safeword for anything else."

Small and painful. He was back. I didn't bother to ask what he would do. "Red." The word had come out husky and had barely squeezed out my throat. I swallowed. "Yes."

"Good. Excellent. First task." He grinned. "Unzip me and then sit on my cock."

There was nothing before me except his eyes pinning me to the spot and that damn smile. Fuck. Bastard.

I didn't want to fail at the first hurdle. I curled my toes, thinking fast. No safeword for this? What about people out here? Someone might see us. My neighbors couldn't, though. Only, perhaps, someone out on a boat. And they'd need a telescope. Unless someone was on the beach below, but even then...

Trust me.

I took a step closer, then I bent over and unbuttoned and slowly unzipped him. I freed his erect cock from his underwear until it stood up where I could see it clearly. The idea of him fucking me outdoors...I was instantly damp. He pushed the table away so there was more space.

"Straddle me. I want to feel your pussy on me. I want to see you, Jodie, in daylight as I penetrate you. Wait, first, wet me with your mouth."

I was already wet enough between my legs, but, he wanted my mouth.

"Yes, Sir." As I lowered myself and knelt, he took my hair, and guided me.

Face turned upward by his hand, I could do nothing as he fingered my lips. "And from now on it's Sir when we are in private."

"Yes, Sir."

Then I let him push my mouth onto his cock. My saliva wet him all along his length and I curled my tongue around him as I went down and came up. I tasted him for the first time in days. The pressure between my legs made me squeeze my thighs together and wriggle my ass. His hand fumbled and slid beneath the bodice of my dress, and over my breast. His finger and thumb clamped onto my nipple. Uh. I choked on his cock. The zing of the hurt elevated me into another level of excitement. The sadism said mine like nothing else.

I'd never worked out why, maybe never would, but I loved that. The multiple tiny pains, his hand in my hair, the sharp ache at my nipple as he tugged and twisted, the dig of his fingers at my hip-all these said I was wanted, taken.

The chair creaked as he shifted and lifted my head away. As my mouth left his erection, a string of saliva wet my chin. I blinked up at him.

"Now sit on me," he growled.

God, yes. I wanted this too. I didn't care who saw. I could feel him sliding into me. Mind fogged by desire, I stumbled to my feet, and lifted my dress while he observed my every move.

It was awkward to get my leg on the other side of him but once I had, my legs were far apart and split. My lower lips pulled wide. With his hand at my hip, I directed myself until my entrance poised above, with his tip nudging my center. Down. At the exquisite sensation of his cock entering me, I let my head fall forward.

"Go slow," he said, his words husky.

Ah. With my hands braced on his shoulders, I moved down a little, slipping on the wetness from my body. Instinct took me. Without need for thought, my hips rose and fell, sliding me up and down his shaft in tiny distances. I groaned and my breathing hastened.

"More." His hand on my hip clawed into my skin and forced me downward. His cock went farther, farther, until I was seated fully. "Stay still."

"Unh." His pants cloth brushed the back of my thighs. The hard metal zip pressed cold and sharp into my labia. If his balls weren't inside me, they were close. So deep. I fell forward, and nestled my head into the angle of his neck with my hands curled on his chest.

"Good girl," he whispered. "Now, let's discuss business."

"What?" I asked, incredulous, stunned. I could barely put one thought in front of another with him in me.

"Yes, wait. Accommodate me. You'll get used to it." Then he bit and suckled on my neck as if to make it all even more impossible.

But he was right, eventually my thinking processes returned, even if every minute or so I would feel my vagina clamp down on his dick and a shudder possess me.

"Ready to talk?" he asked.

"Mmm. Guess so," I murmured into his skin. I sniffed him and nibbled. His body shook under me as he laughed.

"Good. Now, Jodie. Stop nibbling, by the way." I did. "Say something if you disagree. This is mutual agreement. We are going to live in your house."

I grunted and smelled him some more.

"I will be your Master but no heavy S and m until we sort things out. No impact play at all. No needles, nothing like that. No biting. And that's going to be hard not to do. Your ass..." He groaned and I couldn't help smiling. "Pinching though, nipple clamps, are good. Okay?"

"'Kay." I nodded, my forehead sliding on his muscle. God. He felt good inside me.

"You can work locally, I think you said that. Negotiable. Except no tours out of town."

I grunted again. My mind vaguely remembered how I hated tours.

"Documentary shelved. Nothing will go public. We don't need the money."

We? Oh thank God for that. Happy dance. I licked him and tasted just Him.

"Fuck, you feel good sweetheart." He thrust up at me, once. "Got all that?"

I wrapped my arms about his shoulders and did my own languid up and down movement, and yes, his cock poked at some wonderful places inside. My eyes rolled back.

"Stop that," he grumbled, and he grabbed my hair with both hands and tilted my head. "Look at me Jodie."

I opened my eyes. Inches away, his stared into mine.

"Tell me, Jodie. Who owns you? Are you mine? Because I think you are. I think you're fucking mine."

I swam inside the world of his eyes. "Yes," I croaked. "I am yours, Sir."

"Of course you are." He shook my head a little and lowered his voice to the level of a wolf prowling in the darkness. "Now, kiss me, then you can go do my dishes. And when you have done that, return and we will finish this."

That small statement thrummed into me. "Thank you, Sir." I met his lips with mine, and we softly kissed. The possession-his hands in my hair, his cock inside me, and his mouth on me-this unraveled my universe and bound me irrevocably to him.

And I...I was precisely where I belonged.

The End.

About the Author.

Cari Silverwood writes the way the world should be-dangerous and sexy with bullets piercing the darkness and lovers wrenched close by ropes. When you need escape, when you need that rough lover to bring you to your knees, here you will find stories to singe your fingers. The taste of adventure, the tang of BDSM, the burn of fantasy run wild. Brace yourselves, if you dare to read.

To join my mailing list and receive notice of future releases, go here:.

http://www.carisilverwood.net/about-me.html.

TAKE YOUR PLEASURE.

JASMINE HAYNES.

Natalie Beaumonde's life turns upside down the day she walks in on her boyfriend, Van, playing submissive to a beautiful dominatrix. Not only has she been betrayed, but Natalie loses her belief in herself as a desirable woman. And when she starts making mistakes at work, her career being the one thing she's always excelled at, she's in danger of losing her self-worth and her job, too.

Lincoln Masters isn't like most bosses. Instead of issuing a reprimand, he decides his sexy executive assistant needs a good spanking, something he's been dying to deliver for almost a year. And afterward, he hatches a plan to help Natalie rebuild her self-confidence and show her wandering man the error of his ways: become the sexy dominatrix her boyfriend is looking for. Being a Master himself, Lincoln's the perfect dom to help her execute the delectable punishment.

Lincoln's terms for helping her? He wants a piece of Natalie, too. Suddenly, Natalie finds herself developing a growing fascination with her boss and all the exciting, deliciously naughty things he can do for her. When Van's punishment is complete, can she go back to being just Mr. Masters' assistant?

"Spankings, sparks, and sinfully salacious love scenes round out Take Your Pleasure. This novel is definitely a keeper on my bookshelf!"

-Romance Junkies.

Dedication.

For all their help and support, to Jenn Cummings, Terri Schaefer, Kathy Coatney, Rita Hogan, Pam Fryer, and Maryam Salim.

Chapter One.

Lincoln Masters was the epitome of his surname, the master of his domain.

"Miss Beaumonde, in my office, now."

Striding by her desk, he crooked his finger. Natalie had no choice but to follow, her stomach sinking. Usually she was Natalie to him. The Miss Beaumonde didn't bode well.

She stood before his massive desk ready for her dressing down. Mr. Masters didn't suffer stupidity, sloppiness, or negligence in his employees. She was guilty of all three. All because of a man.

On the opposite side of his desk, his back to her, he closed his blinds on the magnificent view of Alcatraz and the early afternoon sun sparkling on the bay waters. It was unusually warm, even for a summer day in San Francisco, and there wasn't a puff of fog on the horizon.