Free Dominating Amy by Emily Ryan-Davis Page B

making her small nipples bead up into hard little buttons. He could order her to tell him, but he made himself give her time to share on her own.
    She cleared her throat. “I have a fantasy,” she said, so low he wasn’t sure he heard her correctly.
    She rocked up to her knees and cupped his erection. A current of shock-sensation charged into his balls. He caught her wrist and held her gaze. “You haven’t answered my question.”
    “But I want you.”
    “You want to distract me and I’m not letting you. Not until you set some boundaries. I refuse to hurt you out of ignorance.”
    “You know what my limits are,” she said. “You know me.”
    Mac inched away and stood, suddenly claustrophobic and nervous. “I don’t know this aspect of you.” He cringed at the edge in his words. Amy’s face fell. “I want to,” he clarified, “but I don’t yet, so you have to tell me.”
    She settled back on her heels and tipped her head back, looking up at him.  Her eyes, the anxious set of her mouth, pleaded with him. “I don’t want to be blindfolded.”
    The dark frightened her. He knew that. He didn’t realize it extended itself to a controlled blindfold situation, though. “What else?”
    “Nothing…dirty.” She squirmed. “No golden showers, or anything like that.”
    “What about handcuffs?”
    “I’d like those.”
    “Anal sex?” He’d never penetrated her there, but asked for safety’s sake. Amy’s flush surprised him.
    “Not yet,” she whispered. She lowered her eyes.
    Mac raised his eyebrows at her response. He’d only asked for sake of thoroughness, and hadn’t expected a midway response. It drove home how little he really knew his wife. Would he be taking advantage of her wishes if he used her submissive desires to quiz her about all the things he never knew, but wondered? The prospect of being let in on her fantasy made him eager as a kid. Every conversation with her could be like Christmas morning. A huge adventure in unwrapping Amy.
    The thrill of a sneak peek prompted him to continue questioning. He racked his memory for situations he thought of as kinky and asked, “Do you want me to gag you?”
    She hesitated. “I don’t think so. Not yet. I need to be able to talk to you.”
    Her words, small and vulnerable, hit him hard. Again. The phantom pain sobered him somewhat, gave him a line to climb up from the quicksand pit of want.
    “Do you think you’re going feel unsafe?” He watched for any truth that might hide behind her lips. She shook her head. He didn’t see any hesitation in her eyes.
    “Do you?” she asked.
    Did he? The question surprised him.
    Mac glanced away, disentangling himself from the power her face held over him. He rubbed his hand over his chest but couldn’t placate the anxious thud of his heart. Did she make him feel unsafe?
    He’d asked the question with the intention of determining whether she felt threatened. It took on a different meaning redirected toward himself . Was he a threat? An unsafe, dangerous element in her life? The earlier thrill of spanking her was not a thrill he’d wanted to experience. He doubted his self-control. In that sense, yeah, he felt unsafe. He was the predator. She, with her fragile wrists and big unsuspecting eyes, would crumple beneath him if he attacked.
    He had to touch her.
    Careful to touch, not attack, he went to his knees on the floor and pulled her from the sofa. Taking her by the thighs, he guided her over to sit astride his lap. The position opened her up to him; the fragrance of her arousal was a drug. “Tell me your fantasy,” he commanded, shifting to brace the small of her back against the edge of the seat behind her.
    She flushed and averted her eyes. She still held onto his shirt. He caught her hand and pulled the cotton from her grasp, discarding it on the floor.
    “Look at me when I’m asking for your attention, Amy.” Her stomach flattened as she exhaled a long breath. Her eyelashes fluttered