Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“My friend, Charlotte, oh, wait, you know her.” A small laugh, another flush. “I mean, obviously you know her. She’s the one who first brought me to The Enclave. Anyway, it’s Jim’s birthday on Sunday, and I volunteered to bake. I haven’t made eclairs in forever so this is my practice run. They came out pretty, which is a good thing. But the real proof is in the pudding, or rather, the custard.”
Mason lifted an éclair from the plate and took a large bite. The pastry was light and airy, the custard rich and creamy, the semi-sweet ganache the perfect complement. “Wow,” he enthused. “This is fucking awesome, Hannah. I could totally serve these in my restaurant. Do you need a job?”
She laughed, clearly pleased. “I’m glad you approve.” She lifted an éclair and took a bite, her eyes fluttering shut with sensual pleasure. “Oh, yeah,” she breathed. “They are pretty awesome, if I say so myself.” She licked a bit of chocolate off her full lower lip. Mason bit back a groan of pure lust.
Focus, he silently ordered himself. You have a job to do.
He took a second, fortifying bite of the confection, wiped his mouth with his napkin and plunged in. “I owe you an apology, Hannah. I let you down. What happened was one hundred percent my fault. There’s no cleaning it up, but I want you to know I’m really sorry. Sorry I didn’t pay enough attention to your cues, sorry I pushed you too far, sorry I let you go without insisting we talk things through.”
Hannah dropped her gaze, suddenly going very still.
Mason held his breath. He wanted to say more. He wanted to explain himself, excuse himself, demand that she say something—anything—to let him know where he stood. But he held himself in check, waiting.
Finally, she looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, too. I’ve given it a lot of thought these past couple of weeks. I was complicit in what happened. I was trying to be something I’m not. I understand that now.”
The fault line that had cracked along his heart when she’d bolted from his room widened at the sad finality of her words. But his stubborn mind refused to accept what she said.
“You’re a courageous, sexy submissive, Hannah. One botched scene doesn’t negate that. You have real potential as an erotic slave. We just need—”
“No, Mason,” she interrupted, her tone quiet but firm. “It’s not a matter of tweaking my training or whatever. The experience was amazing, and I’m grateful for all of it. Even my fuckup at the end,” she added with a rueful smile. “It really clarified some things for me. After a lifetime of subjugating my true sexual nature, I got so caught up in the romance and fantasy of it all that I forgot to listen to my gut.”
She placed a light hand on his arm. He resisted the urge to pull it to his lips.
“I’m not slave material, Mason. I don’t want a Master.” She managed a small laugh. “I’m way too bossy to be a 24/7 sub.”
Mason chuckled in spite of himself. “Actually, most subs are bossy. It makes their genuine submission all the sweeter.”
Instead of replying, she lifted her mug and sipped her tea.
Mason finished the éclair and reached for another. Then he pulled his hand back. “Sorry. Is it okay to take a second?”
“Sure. You know they’re best the day of, and I can’t possibly eat all of these myself.” She smiled again, this time with the dimples. “Though I was prepared to give it a try.”
Mason smiled back reflexively, but his mind was in turmoil. He wanted to tell her she was totally wrong about not being so-called slave material. He’d been so used to working with the eager trainees who were desperate to please and to submit. He’d approached things all wrong with Hannah. He’d moved too fast. He needed another chance. But he sensed she wasn’t yet ready to hear all this. And he didn’t want to risk upsetting her to the point that she asked him to leave.
“Here’s the thing,” he ventured. “I didn’t just come here to apologize. I came because I can’t get you out of my head. I’m in the kitchen and I turn around to ask you to taste the mustard glaze for the pork tenderloin so you can tell me what’s missing, but you’re not there. I pass by the dungeon and see a trainee bound to the spanking bench and remember how sexy and perfect you were during that session. I lie down in my bed at night, recalling that brief but wonderful moment when you curled up against me and I held you close.”
He was probably saying too much, but he kept going. “I remember that very first night, when you flew from that flogging. I knew right then that there was something special about you.” His cock stiffened at the memory.