Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
I get up to hand it to Kyla and relish the way she watches me move. Her eyes gaze up into mine with just a little flicker of fear in their warm gaze. I guess she knows enough about domination and submission to have an inkling of what might be coming, but maybe not enough to be sure. Not all doms are the same, and I'm going to go easy on her tonight. My sweet little Kyla deserves training wheels for her first time.
If there was a second time, things could be different, but that's not part of this game. It could be part of the next stage if Nash's plans come to fruition, but nobody apart from Nash and I know anything about that discussion. I still think he's crazy. Kyla would never go for something like that. She's all about feeling in control, and living with eight men doesn't exactly lend itself to that kind of control. Between us, there are so many different personalities and needs. We're a mix of impetuous and thoughtful, lively, reserved, funny, and dry-humored.
All of the variables would be too much for her.
It's not exactly every woman's dream to live in an unconventional way, either. I've known the boys for more years than I care to count, but to Kyla, we're all new. How much work would it take for her to feel comfortable around us?
We have to let her make the decision. No pressure.
That's if the rest of them agree.
"I'll see you at eight," she says softly, narrowing her eyes slightly as if she's squinting to read what might be written on my face.
Can she tell that I'm already thinking about how I can make her want us for more than this arrangement? Does she know the deviant thoughts that are running through my mind?
I watch her as she retreats, the soft fabric of her sweater dress clinging to curves that I've been dreaming about since she walked through the door. Her knee-length boots make me think about the bare skin of her thighs, soft skin that would color pink with even the softest tap of my hand.
How much can she take? the dark voice whispers in my head. How far can I go?
A shiver passes down my spine, imagining how it will feel to order Kyla to her knees. I fantasize about forcing her mouth open with my fingers, so it's wide enough to receive my cock. Will she enjoy handing control over to me?
I think she will.
Kinks are a funny thing. Women who take control in everyday life often like to cede control in the bedroom. Men who are forced to be dominant in everyday life often like to find dominant women to have sex with.
The way we like to have sex can be very revealing about us.
I've always wondered why I get such a kick out of being in charge. I think maybe it stems back to never feeling like I had control of my life when I was a child. Or maybe I'm just a kinky fucker for absolutely no reason.
Without paying a small fortune in therapy bills, I guess I'll never know for sure.
The day drags past as I try to focus on my clients and their requests. I ink the face of a child onto his father's chest and an outline of a roaring lion onto the back of a huge man who arrived wearing a leather vest. That one will need to be completed in stages because, despite looking like he could crush a man's skull with his bare hands, he had a very low tolerance for pain. My favorite tattoo was inked onto the ankle and calf of a young woman. She'd released her first novel and wanted to remember the feeling. The design I created for her was an open book with swallows rising from the pages. She cried when she got to see it for the first time, and Kyla came to give her a hug. The way they sank into each other's embrace so naturally shows me how genuine Kyla's warmth and empathy is.
When Kyla leaves, she steps into my workstation to tell me she's going.
"I'll see you later," I say, fixing her with a look that I fill with dominance. Instinctively she takes a step back, and her gaze lowers to the floor, and it's like she's telling me that she's going to be a good girl for me.
Getting ready for the evening is easy. This isn't about wining, dining, and romance, although I'd love to make dinner for Kyla another time. It's about setting the scene for what's to come. It's pointless to wear more than just a pair of gray sweatpants because undressing isn't exciting to me. Watching Kyla undress is something else entirely. When she rings the bell, I inhale a long breath and force it out through my nostrils.