“I knew I liked you. Grab yourself a glass.” He jerked his chin toward the cabinet.
He studied her every move. The way the satin clung to her form. The toned legs he couldn’t wait to feel clasped around his waist while he pounded inside her. Fuck, he had it bad.
She was a tiny in stature, but stronger than any woman he’d ever met. And while she carried a heavy burden, she made it appear effortless.
She took the seat beside him at the table. The scent of her soap filled his nostrils, a subtle coconut, and it took everything inside him not to yank her onto his lap and find out if her cunt tasted as sweet as her mouth. He filled her glass first before he shifted so they were facing each other, and her legs were between his thighs. He fucking loved the intimacy. “Nervous about the wedding ceremony?”
“No,” she denied with a small shake of her head.
He cast an arched stare while he ached to run his fingers through her hair again.
He didn’t back down. And she finally blew out her breath and admitted the truth. “Okay, fine. I am a little worried and anxious. It’s just—it’s all happening so fast. And I don’t really know you. I mean, we discussed your family a bit, but I don’t know you other than that marrying me will gain you what I’m assuming is a sizable inheritance.”
Jasper internally winced at the white lie he’d used to get her to agree. He should come clean, but he bet she would run if he did. And he wanted her too badly to allow that to happen. “What would you like to know, lass? Ask away.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-three. My birthday is May fifth. I was born at Kingairloch Manor, my family’s estate on the west coast of Scotland.”
“A Cinco de Mayo birthday. That’s an auspicious day. What’s your favorite color?”
Americans and their need to turn every day into a holiday where drinking was the endgame, as if they needed an excuse to stop working and pour themselves a cold one. He would never understand the obsessive drive to work every bleeding minute of the day instead of enjoying life. “The Campbell plaid. Now you. When’s your birthday? And how old are you, lass?”
“Twenty-six. My birthday is November first. What made you want to move to the United States, and Denver in particular?”
“I love my homeland. Scotland is a place I will always return to. It’s where I wish to be buried. I moved here for several reasons. First, because I wanted to experience more of the world. I chose Denver because my cousins live here. Which meant I had a built-in family unit already established. It’s given my brother and me a chance to expand our business, which has been very profitable. And last, because of my bedroom preferences. I mentioned the other day that I’m a Dominant. My cousin Gabe owns The Eros Pit. It’s a BDSM lifestyle club in downtown Denver. Because of our family relation, I was granted automatic membership when I moved here.” He paused, watching her absorb the information. The lifestyle intrigued her; that much was obvious to him. He shifted in his seat at the painful throbbing in his crotch.
“How did you escape Maddie’s father?”
Freya drank a long sip of whiskey before finally responding. “Like I mentioned earlier, she was two months old when Ian shook her. It took me a month of careful planning to get everything in place. Before he went to work that day, I acted like I was going to the market for groceries so I could make him his favorite meal that evening and have it ready when he returned home. I waited until he left for work so he wouldn’t follow me, which he’d done more than once. And then we left. I had the car packed already with the essentials I planned to take. I put our bags beneath two trash bags stuffed with items I pretended earlier in the week were for a donation to the local thrift store where I frequently shopped. But instead of the market, I drove us to the local bus station. Parked the car in long-term parking. And we boarded a bus headed for Birmingham, Alabama.”
Jesus. She had some strength in her. Most wouldn’t have the fortitude to go to such lengths and planning. He laid a hand over hers on the table. Her fingers were elegant and delicate, and he’d never wanted to protect another this badly in his life.
He vowed. “He will never get near either of you ever again. I promise I will keep you and Maddie safe. You have my word on that. Favorite color?” He steered it away from heavier topics. He wanted the light to return to her eyes and remove all traces of bad memories. Because he also vowed to himself that while they were together, he would replace them with good ones and do his damnedest to erase that sick fuck from her memory.
“Red. What do you mean by the BDSM lifestyle?”
He bit back a grin. Much like the other night when he found her in his dungeon, her interest fueled his lust and desire to see her kneeling naked at his feet, submitting to him body and soul. “It stands for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism. I am a Dominant. What that means is I need to be in control during sexual situations. I enjoy restraining a woman and seeing how often I can make her come. It thrills me to no end to have a woman trust me enough to hand over control and put herself in my hands.”
As he spoke, her eyes rounded, and pupils dilated. Her breath quickened, and he noticed her nipples had hardened into taut points. It took all his control not to lean down and suck one of those buds into his hungry mouth.
“So, then you need a submissive?”
Lust churned in his gut. “Yes, to be fulfilled sexually, I do. Why? Interested?” He studied her like a hawk waiting to catch its prey. He leaned forward slightly, inching closer. Ready and eager to pounce.
Freya lowered her gaze and took a sip of whiskey before returning her gaze to his with a mix of desire and uncertainty illuminating her blue depths. She swallowed and licked her bottom lip. His gaze dropped to her pink tongue, imagining what it would look like on his cock.
Then she cleared her throat and whispered. “Maybe. I don’t really understand what submission means. It’s just that yesterday, when you found me in that room and said those things, it got me thinking about what I like and don’t like.”
He was internally fist-pumping the air. And like a predator funneling its prey into the corner it wanted, he murmured. “During a scene or sex or both, a submissive will hand their control over to the dominant, thereby submitting themselves fully. They use a safeword, so if there’s something the Dominant does that crosses a boundary or hurts, it’s a kill switch and stops everything immediately. And that kill switch gives the submissive the true power. And the Dominant takes care of all the submissive's needs, even ones they may not realize they have. As for me, I’ve made it my mission in life to help draw out every kinky fantasy a submissive has, push her boundaries farther than she imagined, and watch her blossom with orgasms too numerous to count.”
Jasper watched her absorb his explanation, inching even closer. His entire being focused on her every move and expression.
“And is it only during sexual situations that a submissive submits?”
“No. But that is all dependent on what the Dom and submissive determine the parameters of their relationship will be. It could be submission in the bedroom only. There are a lot of women, high-powered businesswomen, who hold executive positions by day, but turn into a submissive in the bedroom at night. Other women choose to be a full-time submissive, even creeping into slave territory, so there are different levels. Communication between a Dominant and submissive is key to determining that relationship to fulfill each person’s needs.” He was rock fucking hard. His dick pulsed with the need to bury itself in her tight heat.