15.1

“You loved it when I spanked you.”
“No, no, no.” I squeeze my eyes shut.
“You craved more of my touch when I massaged your arse. And knowing everyone was watching us only turned you on further. Your feelings of humiliation pushed you further in the direction of an orgasm.
“Oh, my god!” I slap my hands over my ears. “Stop, please.”
When he does, I’m surprised enough to open my eyes and look at him and instantly realize, it’s a mistake. There’s empathy in his gaze, and understanding, and below it all, a thick, heavy lust coats his features. A need which touches a hidden part of me.

He sits straight, his military bearing hard, uncompromising. Precise, like the edge of a scalpel knife. He could cut me and hurt me, and damn him, but I’d enjoy the pain.
He reaches for me slowly, like I’m an animal who could bolt at any time, and when I don’t flinch away, he cups my cheek. “You can trust me. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I whisper. To be honest, I don’t understand where these words are coming from, or what exactly I mean by them.

But he does, for he nods. “I promise, I’ll never do anything you don’t want. You have the power in this relationship.”
“Doesn’t seem that way from where I’m sitting.”
“You think I have the power because I have the money that you need, but you forget that you have something I need, too.”
“Sure, you need to get married, so your father confirms you as the CEO of the company and you secure your inheritance.”

“Not only.” His lips curve, and his smile is a little sad. “I need you because you remind me of possibilities. You give me hope that there’s more to life than what I’ve lived so far. You make me believe in everything that is good and beautiful; you're an antidote to what I've seen as a Marine.”

I laugh self-consciously. “You’re making me out to be something I'm not.”
“I have no doubt that you’re submissive.”

I swallow. It’s one thing for me to realize that for myself. But hearing it from him makes me feel exposed. Like I have nowhere to hide. I’ve never been this seen as with this man.
His gaze intensifies. “You give me a reason to focus my attention, something I am grateful for. And if you choose me to bring out your submissiveness, then it’s an honor I will never take lightly. You hold the power...to say no. I have the prerogative to test your limits, so you learn more about yourself, but the final say in whether you want me to dominate you or not is up to you.”

I clear my throat. “Am… I... Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
“Do you expect me to believe that you don’t?”

Answer a question with a question. Typical. Also, damn him. How does he know I’m aware of what he’s alluding to? I look out of the window. “It’s a fact, I’m curious about the BDSM lifestyle. Enough to watch porn featuring role play.” It was one way to feel less lonely when you didn’t have friends or boyfriends. “But I never thought I’d have a chance to experiment with the lifestyle.”

“But you wanted to.”

He’s right again. How annoying. I turn and scowl at him. “Doesn’t mean you can drive me to wherever it is you have in mind.”
“Hmm.” He taps a blunt fingernail against the steering wheel. He might as well have placed it against my engorged clit. One touch and I’d explode. I squeeze my thighs together. His shoulder muscles flex, and I’m sure he noticed my action, but he doesn’t draw attention to it. “I am going to drive you out of here because it’s an unsafe neighborhood. I’ll also never mention this conversation again, if that’s what you want.”

I could ask him why I should believe him, but I know instinctively. If I asked, he’d never again bring up this possible exploration of a part of me I’ve been curious about. I could set it as aside as a brush with a lifestyle which intrigued me, but which wasn’t for me or... I could indicate I was a willing partner in understanding what it means to be a submissive.

“Would it”—I clear my throat—“would it include whips and chains?”
There’s surprise on his face, then he chuckles. “Not unless that’s what you want. And if we both agree that it's in your best interest.”
“My best interest?”
“Always, Obsidian.”
“So you think marrying me is in my best interest?”
“I think you’re too good for me. But I’m selfish enough to want you for myself.”
“Oh.” My heart flutters.
"I also think you’re a brat who needs to be spanked.”
I gape at him. "Did you call me a brat?"
"You trying to deny what you said back there wasn’t designed to get me angry enough to punish you?”

The hard edge of his voice sends another spurt of liquid heat through my veins.
When I don’t reply, he nods. “That’s what I thought.”
I glance away, then back at him. "Is now when you tell me you’re the one who’s going to bring me in line?"
"I’d certainly enjoy doing it."
I look between his eyes. His gaze is an expanse of blue, which is so bright it could consume me.
"I still don’t know you."
"You know me better today that you did yesterday."
"What are you saying?"
"Have you given more thought to my proposal?"

Of course, he answers my question with another of his own. This man… His arrogance should piss me off, and it does, but his assertiveness is also a turn on. "You always sound so sure of yourself,” I murmur. Mainly because I don’t want to answer his question. If I tell him I’ve been considering his proposal, then he’ll probe for an answer, and I’ll have to reveal I'm no closer to making a decision. I don’t want to appear as being indecisive, in contrast to his self-assuredness.

Something in his eyes fades. "I’ve learned I may not always be right." He scowls through the windshield. His shoulders are locked. The tendons of his neck stand out in relief. Is he referring to a mistake he made in his past?

"Quincy—" I begin, but he cuts me off.
"Do you want me to make a decision for you? Is that it?"
"What do you mean?" I ignore the excitement that ripples under my skin at the notion of him deciding for me.
"You give me the impression that you want to agree, but your ego is stopping you, so let me spell it out for you, Obsidian." He turns to me. "You don’t have a choice but to go through with this."
"I… don’t?"
"You need the money."

Of course I do. And I'm not getting it anywhere else. It’s not like I'm going to win the lottery overnight and tell him I'm not marrying him. More to the point, I don’t want to tell him I'm not marrying him, because I find him hot, and way too attractive, and I know sex with him will blow my mind. And because I feel safe with him. It's my instincts, something deep inside me which says, this man… will never leave me wanting for anything.
He continues, "Also, you didn’t answer my earlier question.”

“Wh-which question?”

“The one I know you remember. Maybe you want me to find out for myself?”
I begin to shake my head. I should shake my head. But something inside me... Perhaps that darkness he recognizes… Or that brattiness he referred to… Or it could be the need to find out if I'm as submissive as he says I am coaxes me to part my thighs.

Without taking his gaze off mine, he reaches over, slides his hand under my skirt and cups my sex. The confidence in his act pushes the breath from my lungs. Thank God, I didn’t wear my jeans. It’s only my panties separating my pussy from his touch.

"If you want me to stop, you only have to say so. If you don’t want this, you can leave the car, and I won’t stop you,” he snaps.

But do I open my mouth to say no? Of course not. Instead, I squeeze my thighs together, trapping his hand.