The towel slipped from her body and heat once more surrounded her, but it was him. He was above her, on her, and he kneed her legs apart, and seconds later, he was in her. The familiar sweet stretch of him pushing inside made her lift her hips in a desperate attempt to draw him deeper.

He was slow and tender, and shattered any lingering misguided impression she had about domination. Fast or slow. Hard or gentle. He would take what he wanted in any way he wanted. And she would let him, because she knew there was only freedom to be found in placing herself into his keeping.

His hands slid to her face and the blindfold fell from her eyes. She saw her own desire reflected in his gaze. And as he drove them both toward an encompassing climax, she saw something deeper. It was her strength that made him strong, and his command that made her complete.

* * *

Daniel looked to his right at Julie as they drove to the assisted living facility later that day. She had her head back on the headrest, eyes closed, and her fingers played a staccato beat against the doorframe. At her feet was the flower arrangement she insisted on putting together. Wildflowers. He smiled at the thought of her remembering his grandmother’s favorite.

“What are you thinking over there, all relaxed and smiley?” he asked.

She lazily peeked through one eye at him. “I’m willing to bet you have a fairly good idea.”

They had already talked about their morning. She indicated her enjoyment of sensation play, and even more so, he believed she had a breakthrough of sorts, though she hadn’t said it in so many words.

He dropped a hand to her thigh and squeezed. “Stroke my ego and tell me anyway.”

“How about I stroke something else?”

Damn, but she was always throwing him off guard by saying things like that. Two could play at that, though. He put his hand back on the steering wheel. “That would be an excellent idea.”

She smiled in assumed victory and turned toward him.

“Unzip your jeans, kitten.”

“What?” she asked, sinking back into her seat.

“You suggested stroking something and I’m agreeing. Unzip your jeans.”

“I meant—”

“I’m well aware of what you meant. Now unzip the jeans or the shirt goes next.” He was pushing, he knew, playing in such a new way for her. Outside the safe confines of his house, would she still be willing to bend to him?

He kept his eyes on the road, allowing her space to make her decision. Seconds later, he was rewarded with the sound of a zipper being pulled down.

“Good job, kitten. Now slip a hand inside your panties and tell me if you’re wet.”

Again he waited.

“Yes, sir. I’m wet.”

“Excellent. Now I want you to stroke yourself. You have until the next stoplight to reach orgasm.”

She sucked in a breath. “Honesty, right?”

“Always,” he said, pleased she felt comfortable enough to be truthful with him.

“I tried once, with an old boyfriend, and couldn’t do it. By myself, I’m fine, but with someone watching?”

He was willing to bet the old boyfriend did nothing more than to sit, watch, and jerk off. What Julie needed was someone with a bit more authority.

“I appreciate your honesty, kitten, but the truth is, that old boyfriend isn’t here. I am. And you’re going to fuck yourself with your fingers, in my car, with me watching, and you’re going to orgasm before we get to the next stoplight.”

He turned his head slightly to watch. First she looked out the windows. He pressed down on the accelerator and when she turned her gaze to him, he gave her a sly grin.

“Close your eyes. No one’s watching.”

She looked out the window again, but closed her eyes before he could say anything else.

“Now slip your hand between your legs and feel how wet you are for me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she obeyed.

“That’s it. Pretend it’s me. Those are my fingers parting you, slipping into you.”

Her body was still tense, almost as if she was fighting herself.

“Except my fingers are bigger than yours, so you need to use two. I’m pumping them into you, going deeper each time, giving your clit a little stroke right before entering.”

Her knees fell to the sides as she worked her fingers in and out.

“That’s it. Feel how deep I’m going. Harder.”

Before long, she was writhing in her seat, making little moans. He was so hard, he wondered why he thought having her masturbate in his car was a good idea. She rocked her hips into her hand and let out a whimper of release right as he stopped at a red light.

He smiled at her self-satisfied grin. “Good job, kitten. I knew you could do it. Now give me your hand.”

“I’m sorry, sir. What?”

“Your right hand. That orgasm was mine and I want to taste it.”

He took her offered hand and sucked one finger at a time. By the time he finished, she was shifting in her seat again and his erection was so painful he almost had her go with her original stroking plan.

Instead, he pressed a kiss into her palm and enjoyed her flushed face. “I wonder sometimes . . .”

“About?”

“How you denied for so long what you so desperately need.”

She took his hand from where it rested on her thigh, and drew light circles on it. “Maybe I was just waiting for the right man.”

At her words, something inside his chest grew tight. He found that he couldn’t speak, so instead he simply squeezed her hand and hoped she somehow knew what her spoken words did to him.

* * *

“Is that someone with you, Daniel?” his grandmother asked, peeking around his shoulder. Daniel had only visited the facility once before and that had been when he and Tessa were making their final decision. He was anxious to see how his grandmother was settling in.

“Hello, Mrs. Covington,” Julie said, and stepped to his side.

“I know you, young lady.”

He was shocked she remembered. Her dementia had been growing steadily worse, especially her short-term memory. Though she had good days, there were times she appeared to reside solely in the past.

“Yes, ma’am, at the floral shop. You were looking for something for your great-granddaughter. I’m Julie.”

“That’s right, you said pink roses instead of wildflowers. You were right, though I never did understand why people are so taken with roses. Compared to wildflowers, they’re just plain.” She turned to Daniel. “Come on inside, don’t stand there in the hallway.”

“Speaking of wildflowers.” Julie stepped inside while he held the door. “I brought you these as a housewarming gift.”

His grandmother took the flowers with a wistful smile. “How beautiful. My husband used to bring me wildflowers. It was all he could afford when we first went out. To this day I’d rather have wildflowers than all the roses in the world.”

Daniel caught Julie’s gaze and mouthed a “thank you” to her. She had been the one to insist he stop at her shop so she could put something together. It’d touched him at the time, but at that moment, as he watched his grandmother, flowers clutched tightly in her hands, lead Julie into the small kitchen for coffee, the tightness in his chest grew.

He followed the ladies, but his grandmother shooed him out.

“I know you want to inspect every inch of my new home to make sure no one left a hair out of place. You go do that while I talk with your Julie.”

His Julie. He really shouldn’t think of her like that yet; it was much too soon. But all he had to do was remember her sighing into his touch, bending to his will, and the look of amazement that covered her face when she discovered something new, and he knew it was a lost cause. He was already thinking of her as his.

He walked around the apartment, making sure everything was in place as he had requested. The locks and alarms, call buttons and phones. He checked them all. But he kept one eye on the couple in the kitchen. They were sipping coffee and talking intensely about something.

“Everything looks good, Grandma,” he said, walking into the kitchen. “What are you two ladies discussing?”

“We’re talking about men. You in specific.”

Julie raised an eyebrow at him. “Stories of your childhood. How you used to torment your sister.”

He placed his hand on his heart and sat down at the table. “Me?”

“He was awful. Just awful,” his grandmother said. “But just when I thought they’d be enemies forever, they’d crawl under the table and he’d read to her.”

“Shel Silverstein,” he whispered. “I remember that.”

“The poems, yes.” His grandmother’s forehead wrinkled. “Wish I remembered where those books got to.”

“I have a set I can bring you,” Julie said.

“Oh, no, dear. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

His grandmother lightly patted Julie’s arm. “You’re such a fine lady. Now, Daniel, you treat her right.”

“He does, Mrs. Covington, I promise.” Julie’s face was the tiniest bit flushed. Her breathing just a bit hitched.

“He better. You let me know if he doesn’t.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Julie said, and then turned the conversation to the upcoming spring season, suggesting a few flowers she thought would work well in a patio garden.

While she talked about it, Daniel had the most vivid picture of Julie working in his garden naked. He decided he was particularly ready for spring to come as well.

* * *

“The next group meeting is the weekend after next,” he said hours later, when they were back at his house, lounging on the couch. “Will you go with me?”

“Can I wear a red bracelet?”

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest in happiness. He’d wondered if she would want to turn in her white for red, but thought it best it was her idea. He circled her wrist with his fingers. “If you show up with me, wearing a red bracelet, everyone will assume you’re my submissive. Will that bother you?”

She leaned back and he could tell she was thinking through her response. He was glad she took time to ensure her answer was honest and didn’t spout off what she thought he wanted to hear.

“No, it won’t bother me,” she finally said. “I’m realizing I am a submissive, so it makes sense I’d wear red. And I’m not interested in being with anyone other than you, so I don’t mind if people assume I’m yours.”

His Julie, his grandmother’s words came back to him. But now he added his own: his kitten. “I do enjoy your rational side.”

Her eyes grew dark. “I’m sure if given enough time, you’d enjoy all my sides.”

“Trust me,” he whispered. “I plan to.”

She sank deeper into his arms. “Can I think out loud for a bit?”

“Of course.”

“Sasha said she thinks Peter wants to collar her. I guess I’m just worried for some reason. She’s never had a collar before.”

He ran a finger along her neck, unable to stop himself from picturing her wearing his collar. “For me, it signifies the bond between Dominant and submissive. When I have a collared submissive, it represents my commitment to her, and hers to me. I would hope it holds the same meaning for Peter and Sasha.”

She was silent. He imagined she was thinking about Sasha. As far as he knew, Peter had never collared anyone before. His own thoughts were so focused on Peter and Sasha, her next question surprised him.

“How many submissives have you collared?”

His finger dropped from her neck. “Three.”

“Is that a lot?”

“I was too young when I collared the first. Didn’t know enough to know what I didn’t know. I waited a few years before the second. We were together the longest, but she moved away. Job promotion.” He paused, remembering her words that she couldn’t pass up the opportunity. It wasn’t until later he realized it was for the best. “The third wanted something more permanent than I was willing to offer. We went our separate ways two years ago.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a yes or no to my question.”

“I’m not sure there is a yes or no to your question.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “Some Doms have more, some less. Some have more than one.”

“Would you? Have more than one?”

“No.” He gave her hair a tug. “That wouldn’t work for me. When a submissive wears my collar, I want all my attention and care dedicated to her. I’ve never been one to share my affections.”

“Yet you haven’t collared anyone in two years.”