He lifted his head. “You have a very active mind, little fluff. Tonight I’m going to find out what it takes to turn your brain off.”

“You…what?” Her brain was who she was. She tried to sit up.

He chuckled and flattened her, reinforcing the movement with a look that promised bad things if she didn’t stay put. When she stopped struggling, he buckled a cuff on her left wrist and clipped the D ring to the side of the table beside her thigh. Then he did the same for the other wrist.

Well, this kind of bondage wasn’t too bad. She had a lot of freedom still, and her legs were free.

He started unhooking her corset.

“What are you doing?”

His face held amused exasperation. “Abby, how many submissives have you noticed wearing clothing during a scene?”

“Um. One.”

A smile flickered over his lips. “And that was because…?”

“The Domme wanted to cut his shirt off with her whip.”

When her corset fell open, he pulled it from under her and tossed it on a chair. The air cooled her damp skin and tightened her nipples.

He removed her skirt, and thank goodness she’d indulged in buying sexy underwear. The corner of his mouth lifted as he ran a finger across the lace of her dark-red, cheeky panties. “Nice. Lace and red both look good on you.” The compliment delighted her, but when he started to pull the pantie off, she instinctively closed her legs.

He administered a sharp slap to the front of her thigh.

“Ow!” The spot burned. The realization that he wouldn’t let her get away with anything sent a quiver of vulnerability through her…and woke excitement in her belly.

He continued stripping her as if he hadn’t done anything unusual. Does he smack women every day? The pantie landed on top of her corset. When he rested his wide palm on her bare stomach in the same way another man might take her hand, the casualness of his touch shook her.

“Abby, I’ve indulged you up to now because you’re new. You said you’d done some reading about BDSM?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you know, intellectually, at least, how to behave.”

His sharp gaze sliced a pathway through her thoughts. “Yes, sir.”

“Do so. I warn you, if you start watching other scenes, I’ll increase the intensity here.” He picked up a strap, letting the end trail over her stomach. “We Doms are rather competitive, you know.”

Intensity? That didn’t sound good at all. Yet she was aroused. Her skin felt so sandblasted that each brush of the leather set her nerves to firing.

Xavier secured the strap below her breasts, pinning her to the table. “Can you breathe?”

She couldn’t sit up. Couldn’t escape. “I…I don’t…” Like a flooding river, anxiety roared in her head.

“Take a slow breath.” His smooth voice broke through the noise and panic. “Another.” As he stroked a warm hand up and down her arm, her heart slowed. Her mind turned back on.

Why in the world had she gone off like that? She’d watched bondage scenes with no uneasiness. But this was more frightening than being restrained. Xavier had neatly plucked control from her without her seeing it coming.

With Nathan she’d always backed off before he’d got to this point. Because…because a small part of her worried that if she angered him, he’d leave her restrained—or worse, would do something she didn’t want.

Xavier had sneaked up on her. He was the most self-confident man she’d ever met, like how he simply waited for her to get comfortable. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t risk her safety even if he lost his temper—which she doubted happened during a scene. This Dom was all about control and responsibility.

“Ready?”

Sucking in a breath, as if she were preparing for an injection, she nodded.

He picked up another strap. “Remember your safe word is red. You tell me if the restraints are uncomfortable or if you get too anxious with them. Do you understand, Abby?”

His voice reverberated down to the inner person deep inside her. “Yes, my liege.”

“Very pretty.” His light kiss was a reward.

But her nervousness rose again. Maybe she trusted him—mostly. But to give him all the control? She never let that happen—especially with sex. Yet her defenses were slipping out of her grasp, as if he’d rolled over in bed, taking her sheets with him and leaving her exposed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Never looking away from her face, he fastened another strap, this one above her breasts. The pressure tightened the skin and made her breasts mountain up between the straps. “I see this is frightening to you, Abby. Can you trust me to give you what you need?”

“Need? I’m not sure we have the same definition of the word.”

Appreciation of her response lit his eyes. “Submissives and Dominants often disagree over what a sub needs, even when viewing the same problem.” Leaning on his forearm, he fondled her breasts almost absentmindedly. His gentle plucking of her nipples fired sizzles of heat downward until her labia and clitoris tingled.

Another strap went across her pelvis. “For example.” His big hand flattened over where her ugly stomach pooched out. “You look at yourself and think you need to lose weight.”

Exactly. This was why she needed to stay in clothing. Her lips tightened.

“I see you and think you should accept the beauty of your body and stop searching for flaws.” His voice held an inescapable firmness. He leaned down, hands curving on each side of her waist as he nuzzled her belly. “Mmm. All this softness is incredibly seductive, Abigail.”

His words might not have convinced her, but his heavy-lidded look of pleasure and the way his hands lingered and stroked provided confirmation. Besides, he was my liege. He didn’t need to hand out pretty compliments to seduce. Any unattached submissive in the club would—and did—beg to be with him.

Had he called her Abigail? She frowned. “My name is Abby.”

“But Abigail is correct, is it not? It’s on the forms.” He put a cuff around her left ankle and clipped it to the lower corner of the table. After pulling her legs wide apart, he restrained the right leg.

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever I want.” He held her gaze with his.

The table seemed to drop a foot, leaving her stomach behind.

Smiling slightly, he set his palm over her pussy, and the heat and pressure against her clitoris shivered through her. “Although I won’t use my mouth or cock down here, I intend to use my fingers—and other things—on you, Abigail. Is that a problem?”

“Other things?” She stared. “No matter what people in high office might believe, that’s still a type of sex.”

His chuckle was like dark chocolate for the ears. “Yes, it is.” He brushed over her outer labia and held up his fingers to display the glistening wetness. “Again, is this a problem for you? Or are you a virgin?”

When she glared at him, he swatted her thigh. Harder.

Her skin stung, and she couldn’t move to rub the burning. Don’t glare at the Dom, moron.

After shaking his head in a reprimand, he waited.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. The light pain seemed to drain from her leg to her core, which had started to throb with need.

“I daresay you’ll learn manners eventually.” His hand returned to lie against her pussy, right where she was the wettest. “Now answer my questions. Politely.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Which I’m sure you knew. “I hadn’t thought about touching. Sexually.” She hadn’t planned to do anything, and now here she was, naked, strapped down, and being openly stimulated. Wasn’t this wrong? Didn’t she love Nathan?

How could someone else excite her?

But Nathan hadn’t wanted her. She was free to act as she pleased. In fact, he’d probably found someone else already. The realization made her feel lonely even as her anger rose.

Xavier’s gaze grew more intent. “That’s an excessive amount of thinking for a simple question.”

Sex is never simple. “Touching and…things…aren’t a problem.”

“Very good.” Now that she’d told him he could touch her, the jerk moved his hand away. How perverse was that?

Her attempt to rein in her glare probably exploded brain cells throughout her skull.

His lips pressed together, and he was obviously trying not to laugh. “Abby, you’re truly a delight.” With one finger, he guided a lock of hair behind her ear. “Now, I could blindfold you to keep you in the present, but you’ll be more comfortable if you can see me.”

She nodded even though he wasn’t asking permission—merely telling her what would happen. Undoubtedly this was his version of negotiation. After all, he’d seen her limits list. She began to think she should have marked no to a whole lot more items.

Which way did most submissives choose—to try or to refuse the majority of the options? Wouldn’t that be a great subject to research? She’d theorize that submissive traits would lead people to—

Xavier made a warning sound.

She blinked and realized he was staring at her. Uh-oh.

“You are something, pet,” he murmured. He stroked a finger across her lower lip, down her chin, the slow progress of his warm fingertip excruciatingly sensual. After circling the hollow of her neck, he kissed her there, his lips velvety, before his finger trailed along the highest strap. Her breasts, already compressed, tightened further, and her nipples throbbed as if demanding he detour to attend to them.

His touch slid between her breasts, circled the left, then spiraled inward to the nipple.

Oh please, touch me.

He plucked the peak gently, and the sensation felt like light bursting through stained glass, brightening everything in her body. The next pull was harder, making her labia throb as well. When he pinched and held without releasing, the pain lit something deep inside her, sparking a disconcerting sensation of pleasure.

Her thoughts wavered as her need to escape conflicted with the desire to arch into his grasp.

Smiling, he released her nipple, and blood flowed back in with a rush. “These will be a beautiful, deep red when I finish,” he said, not looking up. His finger circled the areola.

Her clitoris tingled and burned, but she didn’t want him to…to touch her. Not there. Except she really, really did want him to. No. Yes. Gritting her teeth, she looked away from him, trying to distract herself. She was supposed to be doing research, after all, not letting some…person…play with her. What kind of a slut was she anyway?

Across the room, the Dom scrubbed the equipment while the Domme dispensed water and hugs to the blanket-wrapped submissives. How did two Dominants decide who was in—

“You’re deliberately diverting yourself,” Xavier stated. It wasn’t a question.

Her gaze shot up.

“I thought you became sidetracked by the activities around you—that you needed to discipline yourself—but that’s not it. You mentally escaped from here, much as someone would run away on foot. Why?”

“I… The scene over there was interesting.”

His black brows drew together, and his eyes hardened. “No. You looked over there to distract yourself. You performed the same maneuver with Seth.” He leaned a hip on the table, completely at ease, conversing with her while she was naked, legs open for everyone to see her genital area. “I don’t think there’s any question you’re submissive, Abigail, and that you’re aroused. Does arousal make you so uncomfortable you need to escape?”

As a flush flooded her face, she pulled and twisted, wanting free of the straps. Who was he to question her about her feelings?

He cupped her breast, using his thumb to idly toy with the nipple. Her back started to arch, and she stiffened. No. The feeling of need was…wrong. Her responses weren’t under her control—her body was short-circuiting her thoughts.

“Are you afraid of being aroused?”

“Of course not.” Fear wouldn’t be the right word. Uncomfortable…definitely.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze intent. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, and her eyes closed at the rush of sensation. When he stopped, she struggled to pull herself together, to—

“It’s the loss of control that bothers you,” he murmured. “Not the arousal, especially, but it destroys your ability to stay in your head. To think.” He leaned down to stroke her face. “Little fluff, don’t you realize that’s what being submissive is all about? Giving up control so you don’t have to think or worry? For the time we are together in this scene, thinking is my job.”