Free Brat and Master by Sindra van Yssel

moved to her bike. He put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. Getting his own bike, he walked it back down the trail, glancing behind him to make sure Amanda was following. The old man stood in the middle of the clearing, watching them and muttering to himself.
    They returned to the main path single file, and then Amanda got ready to mount her bike again. He put a hand around her waist to stop her. “I want to play with you again,” he said.
    “Oh. I’d like to play with you again too.” She smiled.
    He reached out and tugged on her zipper, returning it to the position it had been in while she was riding. “I like control, Amanda. Lots of it.”
    He locked his gaze with her, daring her to zip it back up. She didn’t touch it. She stood there breathing.
    “Master-and-slave kind of control?” she asked.
     
    FOR A MOMENT Jeremy looked at Amanda like a deer caught in headlights. Finally, he answered . “I don’t know you that well. Let’s go slow.”
    Amanda wasn’t sure what to make of his answer. She had friends who were very happy in intense, 24-7 relationships where they were expected to obey at all times. Her own experience was that after a night or two at the club, the last thing she wanted was anything to do with BDSM. It was great in short, intense bursts, and then she needed to snuggle with her cat. She pressed on. “But that’s where you want to get to, eventually?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t have an eventually. I’m living in the now. And I want to do wicked things to you.”
    Wicked things. That sounded promising. “And if I give you control, what will you do?” She moved closer to him until her chest bumped against his.
    “Maybe it’s time you told me about your limits,” he said.
    He’d dodged the question, but obviously he needed to know. “No scat or water sports or any of that gross stuff. No needles. No marks where my clothes don’t cover. I’m trying to get a new job, and I need to be able to make a good impression. Nothing, um, permanent.”
    “Those are all limits most people have. I want to know who you are.”
    “You want me to tell you what I’m scared of.” Single tails. Fire. Knives.
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t want to tell you.”
    “Tell me one thing.”
    “I don’t want you to use it against me.”
    “You’ll have to trust me.”
    “I don’t really even know you.” Amanda turned her head.
    Jeremy tucked a finger under her chin and turned her back. “One thing, Amanda.”
    She felt unable to resist. But she rejected each thing she thought of in turn. Her heart beat faster. She had to tell him something or run away. She didn’t want to run.
    “I’m afraid of being alone,” she blurted. Which wasn’t the sort of thing she had wanted to say at all.
    Jeremy pulled her in and kissed her hard. The force of it took her breath away. She intertwined her tongue with his and held on.
    He let go at last. “Is that why you went to find someone to play with last night after I left you? Not because you were unsatisfied, but because you hate being alone?”
    “Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t find someone to play with. I curled up in a couch with my friend Callie, and we shared stories and griped to each other for a bit, and then I went home. I don’t even know why I said that, about being alone. I live alone. I’m happy. It’s just when we’re talking about kinky stuff, that’s what I hate. The idea that the person I’m with is going to walk away and just find someone else, as if I’m a replaceable part. I’m afraid of drop.”
    “I see.” His voice was neutral.
    She searched his eyes for meaning until she got it. “That’s totally what I did to you, isn’t it?”
    “Yes. In a way. But at the same time I triggered it by leaving you so quickly, didn’t I? I have no good excuse for that, either. I imagine that what you said to me was a form of self-protection. Telling me I’m replaceable is a way of deadening the pain of being deserted.”
    “Or a