Free The Master's Exception by Veronica Angel Page B

with a perfect stranger?  “Shit, there’s more than something about him Grace. God, I can’t seem to resist him.” I threw over my shoulder as I went back out to the dining room to check on my tables.

    Every day Spencer ate a meal at the little cafe where I worked. For four days he arrived with the lunch crowd, then on the fifth it was during the dinner hour. I had found myself pining for his arrival, wanting to see his face, and his lean body clad in that predictable suit and burgundy tie. Something about him screamed safety and security in the ever-present chaos of my mind. I couldn’t explain it. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame and I didn’t want to question why. All I knew was I needed to know him, be beside him, something he had was the answer to my needs.

    That night when he arrived, I was ready, waiting for him. Knowing I should be ashamed at my brazen behavior, I slipped him a little paper with my phone number, just in case he was leaving town that evening. Looking up from his meal he met my eyes and smiled a wicked grin, pocketing it and giving me a quick wink. Reaching out as I grabbed his empty plate, he stroked my wrist softly where the angel wing tattoo was. Lightly grasping my wrist so I couldn’t pull away, he traced the line of the scar beneath the design. Obviously, the meaning behind it hadn’t escaped him.

    For some inexplicable reason that only endeared me to him more. Loving that he cared enough to even notice. Feeling tears prick the back of my eyes unexpectedly, I smiled softly at him. “I have no idea why I’m giving that to you. But it feels right.” I told him, not knowing how else to explain my actions. He smiled back slowly, for once managing to look humble and unassuming. Stroking the raised scar on my wrist lightly again, he released it and pocketed the little paper in his suit pocket.

    “Chloe, my angel, it feels right because I understand. I know we’ve only just met but I feel you, your soul. It speaks to me.” A tremor ran down my spine at his chilling words. They should’ve frightened me, but somehow I knew exactly what he meant. Something about him spoke to me too, and not just his gorgeous eyes, face and well-muscled body.  I felt I needed him,  needed to know him, on some deeper level.

    I found myself smiling, the warmth of Spencer’s words spreading slowly throughout my body. Here was a gorgeous man, randomly coming into my life and offering to know me on a deeper level. I needed to let go of the fear, not everyone was out to hurt me. Perhaps he just wanted to enjoy me, maybe he was just as lonely as I was in my little one bedroom apartment with my dead end job as I struggle to achieve my dream at the age of  thirty. Well, from the looks of him, he clearly lived in a more impressive residence, but for some reason none of that seemed to matter but the feeling he gave me inside.

    He called me that night. We talked for hours, the night turning into dawn as we shared and laughed. This man had depth, soul, and an intensity that drew me to him inexplicably that much was true. But he was also a Master. A term I knew little about until I’d researched it online as we spoke over the phone. He was a man who proclaimed to live his sexual life by a strict set of self-imposed rules, only engaging in relationships where the woman bent to his demands, his will. I knew this should bother me, but the more I looked at the photos and blogs, the more aroused I became at the thought.

    Was this something I could participate in? Could I bow on bended knee, obey him unquestioningly, accept his discipline, and indulge his every whim? I found myself eager to try, curious to know if I had it in me, and wondering if this newfound desire for dominance over me sexually was a result of my past or of the emotions this man was eliciting from me.

    When he asked me for a date the second time we spoke on the phone I had no choice but to say yes, even as my heart raced in nervous