Honest

six

How is he here?

“I got out on good behavior. A day early, which is kinda stupid but here I am.”

“I love this outfit,”He whispered, tugging at my crop top. “It's so...revealing.”

I roll my eyes. “Go away, Ray Powell.”

“Oh no, don't be that,” He coos. “I came all this way to see you. I came all this way, to f**k you, and I think I should be rewarded,” He grins.

I look away, sipping on my henessy.

“I'm not interested,” I shoot flatly. He says nothing, and after a minute, I thought he'd actually left.

Instead, I find my body being moved, pulled into strong arms.

“Ah,ah,” He sings in my ear breathily. “You know I hate liars, Doctor Brown.”

He takes the cup from my hand, setting it down. He lures me onto the dance floor, pulling me in his arms.

His hands rest on my lower stomach, his long fingers resting just above my heat.

His lips lay cool on my ear.

I lick my lips, allowing this.

“Why are you interested in me, anyway?” I ask, as he swings my hips against him.

“I'm dominant by definition. And you're...so submissive, the sight of you makes me hard.” He says bluntly.

I almost choke. “I'm not submissive. I don't act like a submissive, at all.”

What song is playing? Why am I entertaining this?

He chuckles deeply, making my belly flutter.

“You say that, because you don't understand submission. You don't have to be a meek, timid little girl to be submissive, that's just an ignorant assumption.”

I swallow. “So what about me is submissive?”

“The mark of a true submissive isn't how she acts. It's how she acts around a dominant. You can tell when someone is worthy of your submission. And you show it."

“How?” My breath hitches as he pulls me closer.

“You obey,” He murmured lowly in my ear, nibbling my lobe. I sigh softly.

“Go sit down,” He suggested, loosing his grip. I turn around in his arms.

“I want to dance some more—”

He narrows his eyes.

I look away. “I'm going to get another drink. I'm thirsty.”

He smirks, humming dubiously, as I stalk away. That bastard. I'm doing it because he suggested it—I'm a little parched is all.

All that submissive s**t is bs, anyway. What am I? Anna from 50 shades?

Although...

Anyway, I'm not weak. I'm not submissive. And I'm drinking because I want to.

I pout, looking out at that criminal Ray Powell. He's talking to another guy. He's hot too.

I read their lips as best I can, but it's hard from this distance, and the lights don't help.

All I get is:

Where is the rest?

The other man says something like, Moving in to... something.

That damned criminal glances at me, and I stare back at him. He quirks a brow, his mouth moving. Soon enough, the other hottie leaves. He stares at me across the club.

His long elegant finger reaches out, crooking, dragging me toward him with invisible strings.

I'm up and moving before I even realize it.

He puts his arms around me.

“You know what else marks a submissive? How cute they get around a dominant. Look at this adorable expression you're making.”

I look away.

“Aw, you're pouting,” He teased, crooking a finger under my chin, directing it toward him. “Are you mad at me, little one?”

Far cry for Doctor Brown isn't it?

“My name is Desiree,” I say more petulantly than I meant to.

He smiles at me, a sly smile, like he knows something I don't.

“I'm going to call you, Little One. You can call me Master.”