had drained him.
She needs me.
She doesn’t need a tired subbie who can’t make it up the stairs to get cleaned up. Get it in gear.
It took all his remaining strength to get to the kitchen and pour himself a shot of whiskey, then haul his ass up to the second floor. He watched the tub fill up, sipping on the smooth liquor.
Nathan flinched and cursed as he settled into the tub. A quick flick of his wrists and the running water was turned off, leaving him in silence.
He laid his head back and felt the cold ceramic bite into the back of his neck.
Jennifer.
Nathan mouthed the words as he took a deep drink.
Definitely a Jen. She was right, the name fits her much better.
Danielle was a nice name, a fluffy name, but Jen had some strength behind it. A tough lady who took no guff from anyone. She’d held her ground even when the creep had been armed and out of control.
He’d seen lesser men break and run when confronted with the same situation despite all the academy training. The fear had to be dealt with, wrestled to the ground to do what was right and what was necessary.
You either had it in you or you didn’t.
And his Jen definitely had.
She broke his nose.
It wasn’t hard for his imagination to kick in, seeing her standing her ground against one of the street punks he’d dealt with over the years.
Jen balanced her weight on the balls of her feet, keeping out of range of the crowbar. The idiot continued to yell and wave the steel bar around.
The rest of the staff were either behind the desk or dealing with one of their own who was injured.
Sirens in the distance signaled the end of the confrontation and the beginning of a long, protracted negotiation as the police would urge him to drop the weapon and come on out while he worked the system to get as much as he could for each hostage.
She wouldn’t let him do that.
His attention flashed to the window, to the parking lot for a second.
A second too long.
Jen stepped inside the danger arc and smashed her fist into his face, hard enough to make him drop the crowbar.
The injured idiot cupped his face in both hands, shocked at the way the tables had turned on him.
She hit him again, and he dropped to the ground as the police cars skidded into the parking lot and descended on the clinic.
Nathan grinned at the imaginary scenario, feeling himself growing hard at the fantasy.
That’s my strong woman, taking no guff from anyone.
My Mistress.
The asshole had probably been surprised to find she had a spine when it came to defending herself and her friends, the street fighter coming out.
She wouldn’t sit back and absorb anything you tossed at her, because she was a woman and expected to take it.
No wonder she was a Domme.
Nathan knew that side of her. The strong female who loved her job and loved dominating him. The woman who loved and accepted his gift for what it was—an expression of his trust.
You didn’t let just anyone take control of you, put yourself at their mercy.
The first session with Kate had terrified him in a way, the naked truth that he enjoyed submitting to a woman suddenly in his face and he had nowhere to hide.
She’d dominated him, and he’d loved it.
But everything had changed when Jen took over. From the first day she’d shown up at his door with that pink backpack and sly smile to pluck the leather collar from his hands and order him down on his knees, he’d known she would be the only one for him.
She just—
An image flared in his mind’s eye of Jen standing there in his favorite outfit, her black leather and lace corset. The tall black nylons running off the garter to hide in matching tall boots that clung to her legs like a second skin. The tiny thong hiding just enough to let his imagination run wild.
He shuddered as a flash of heat ran down his spine, digging into his balls with heavy claws of arousal. All reasonable thinking slid away, replaced by the lust and arousal he had after every session.
With Jen.
I