Free Pursued by Cynthia Dane Page B

gorgeous, I know.”
    He said it so flippantly that Monica snorted into the back of her hand before giving herself over to overflowing laughter. Her voice echoed in the gardens below, bouncing off the topiaries and rousing a flock of birds into the air. “And what do you know of BDSM, Mr. Warren? I mean, truly…”
    Henry wasn’t laughing. “A lot more than you probably figure I do.”
    Monica stopped guffawing and rested her hands on her stomach. Her pie was still untouched. “Do you practice?”
    “No, I don’t practice.” Henry grabbed the half-empty wine bottle and refilled his glass, then Monica’s, a set look of determination flickering in the growing lantern light. “That’s definitely not the word I would use.”
    “And what word would you use?”
    This time he did not take her hand. Monica didn’t even know what he was doing beneath the table until she felt him touch her knee, his delectably warm palm and fingers curling around her bare skin. Shots of desire, both welcomed and menacing, plotted a wavering course up her skin and straight to her groin. Or maybe those were his fingers, treading dangerously close to her thighs and a warmth she kept to herself.
    She didn’t push him away. Nor did she tell him to stop or change his ways. Deep down Monica wanted him to touch her intimately, to know what her body felt like beneath his touch. God knew it felt good on her end.
    “Rather experienced.”
    Monica concentrated her breathing, a practice she hadn’t had to use since the days she was driven to the edge of orgasm but forbidden from indulging in it until her Dom said it was okay. Deep breathing meant she could stave off her pleasure… it also meant she could keep a level head. “So you tell me now. And here I thought you were bumbling along.”
    “No you didn’t. You never thought that. I told you, Monica, you know who I am. Do I really have to tell you who and what I am?”
    She shook her head, eyes darting between his stern visage and the hand tightening on her thigh. Just a little farther and I won’t be able to resist him anymore. The closer she let this man get to her intimately, the harder it became to deny him. “I know who you are. What surprises me is that you knew me so quickly. How many subs have you had?”
    Henry withdrew his hand and straightened his jacket, probably in lieu of having a tie to adjust. “Trick question. I’ve dallied with submissives, but I’ve never found the one for me.”
    “So you’re shopping around, and somehow think I can fulfill your needs.”
    “I don’t assume anything. All I know is that I am intrigued by you and want to get to know you better.”
    “Until now, I wasn’t sure what you meant by ‘get to know me.’ Now I think I do.”
    “As long as we’re on the same page.”
    “We’re not. As I told you, I’m not really ready for something like that again yet. And you still made the mistake of assuming I was up for patronage. Like a whore.”
    “Then what are those girls? Are they whores?”
    “Excuse you. What they want and what I want are completely different. They aren’t lifestyle submissives like I am. This is a job to them. I’m careful to not hire lifestyle women. They get too attached to their clients and cause a mess for me and them.”
    “That is wise.” Henry removed his hand, clenching it on top of the table. Still, neither of them ate their dessert. “You really do have a good head for business. It must help that you have a lot of experience in this line of living.”
    “If only you knew, Mr. Warren.” That was not an invitation. It is. It truly is. Monica pushed her plate of pie away. “Come. I want to show you something.” She stood up, pushed in her chair, and turned resolutely toward the door.
    He attempted to follow, but the look on his face expressed that he had no idea what her intentions were. “You already gave me such a great tour last time.”
    Monica touched the handle and looked over her shoulder. “Not