Page 53 of Mine

“To answer your question, yes,” he said. “I am a Dom. And I’m not just saying that. I’ve been in the kink community for the last five years, and I’ve learned from the best. When I’m not playing music, I’m building sex furniture.”

“Sexfurniture?” I echoed, bewildered.

“Yes. With my…” he trailed off and hummed. “She’s sort of my adoptive mom. That’s the best way to describe her. But it’s not weird that we build sex furniture together.”

“Interesting,” I chuckled. “Well, she sounds fun.”

“She is,” he said, his tone softening. “I just want you to know that I’m not just some twenty-year-old telling you I know how to be a Dom. I have the classes and experience to back it up.”

I studied him, and he seemed to mean it. I’d gotten pretty good at spotting bullshit over the years, and his words were genuine. “Do you have other submissives?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Not currently. I do occasionally play with others if I’m in the mood for it, but typically in public settings. I also don’t usually mix penetrative sex and kink.”

“Really?” I asked curiously. “Why?”

“Most of the time, my focus is on my submissive’s pleasure. I like making people come. I like giving them orgasms. It satisfies me.” He smiled. “I think you made me realize that it’s fun to mix the two, though.”

I couldn’t help it, I bit my bottom lip. “I think you ruined me. I bought a lot of sex toys online today.”

His eyes brightened. “Really?”

“Yes,” I sighed.

“If you need recommendations, let me know,” he said lightly.

“I will…” I trailed off and then took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.This is a bad idea. Bad, bad idea. But—“Salt?”

“Yes?”

“Will you dominate me?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I’d be honored to. I’ve been thinking about you non-stop since Saturday morning.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” I admitted.

“Did you learn more about safe words?”

I nodded. “Yes. Red means stop. Yellow means slow. Green is go.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his deliciously deep voice making me shiver. “Find a place to set your phone down so I can still see you.”

“Okay.” I took my phone to my dresser and balanced it on top, using a bottle of perfume to help prop it up. Now, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I grimaced, folding them together in front of me.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes.” I bit the inside of my mouth hard, my nerves rattling.

“Pepper. Look at me.”

I did look at him.

“Good.” Even through the phone, his gaze was unnerving. “I want you to undo the tie on your pants. The big ribbon.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

I was wearing high waisted pants with a fabric sash I’d tied into a bow. I undid the knot and gave it a tug.

“Good. Turn around.”

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