The only kind of relationship I want is the kind where naked women trust me with their willing bodies and curious minds. I live for that hazy, disoriented sub-space look in their eyes after a particularly intense scene. The one that tells me they idolize my very existence and will do anything I command. I feel ten feet tall in those moments, like a pure sex god built for doling out pleasure and punishment.

Taking Macey to that place is something I’ve fantasized about, but never thought I’d make a reality. Do I dare go there with the woman who once owned me so completely?

You bet your sweet ass I’m going to. You only live once, right? There’s a saying for this . . . carpe diem or something. Seize the day, I think. Macey is giving me her submission on a silver platter, and what happens behind closed doors will be our business. Hale doesn’t call all the shots, even if he likes to think he does.

Leaning forward with my elbows on the table, I lift my gaze to Macey’s. “What I want, sweetheart is you naked, bound, and spread open before me, your wrists laced together with my rope, your ankles pinned with my spreader bar. Your cunt waiting for me to fill it. You will be used as I see fit. Do you understand?”

Her quick inhalation of breath signals this is an idea she finds appealing, which only excites me more. I have to remind myself to keep detached.

“Will I be gagged?” she asks.

“No.” I smile at her. “You won’t be gagged. I’ll want to hear all the pretty whimpers and cries falling from your mouth.”

“And what about you?” she asks. “Will I be able to touch you? Kiss you?”

My own heart rate spikes despite the calm, cool demeanor I’m struggling to keep in place. “Do you want those things?”

Nodding eagerly, she meets my stare. “I think you know I do.”

“I don’t know you anymore, Macey. You keep forgetting that. You’ve walked back in my life like we can pick up right where we left off, but we’ve both changed.”

She watches me for a few quiet moments, as if she wants to disagree. “You never answered the question.” A smile twitches on her mouth.

“You will touch me when, how, and where I say.” My tone comes out harsher than I intended. Damn, get it together. “And kissing is not something I generally do with my submissives, but given our history, I’ll take it under advisement.”

Fuck, there’s nothing I want more than my mouth on hers. Watching her pretty blue eyes fall closed, feeling the warmth of her tongue sweep against mine . . .

I down the remainder of my wine, then catch her gaze. “We need to cover a few things. How many sexual partners have you had?”

She licks her lips, looking down at her plate. I don’t know why she’s embarrassed to tell me her number. Unless it’s really high . . . or really low . . .

“Macey? Look at me.”

She clears her throat, and her eyes dart up. “Two.”

“That’s it?” Fuck me, that’s not what I was expecting. It makes me want her pussy on my mouth. Right now.

The waitress saunters up and stops next to our table. “Ready to order?”

Hell yeah, I am. Pussy à la carte, please.

Well aware Macey hasn’t absorbed a word of the menu she’s been studying, I glance at her. “May I?”

She nods.

“We’ll have the coconut chicken with avocado and mango salad, please.” It’s one of the best things on their menu. “Rice and beans?” I direct my question toward Macey.

“Sure.”

“An order of each,” I tell the waitress, and we hand over our menus.

“Thank you,” Macey says.

I want to thank her for trusting me, but I don’t. I simply nod. There’s nothing more beautiful than a sub who can feel at ease and confident enough to fully hand me the reins. And something tells me we’re well on our way. It makes the Dominant inside me roar to life.

There’s a delicate dance happening between us. We know each other intimately, yet we don’t. I’ve changed a lot from the man she remembers. I’ve grown harder and more distant with every passing relationship that didn’t measure up to what she and I once shared. And Macey, I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through, having her heart broken by some MILF-chasing douchebag. Starting over in her hometown after living away for many years.

“It’s an interesting scenario . . . you and I . . . our history,” I say.

“How so?” she asks, her fingers delicately fingering the stem of her wineglass.

“Generally my first meeting with a new submissive is more question and answer. I’m working to gain her trust, but with you, I sense I already have that.”

She levels me with those big blue eyes. “You’ve always had it.”

“Back then, you and I . . .” I’m searching for the right words and failing. “Things got pretty heated between us . . .”

“You weren’t the first.”

A wave of possessiveness rushes through me. “I should have been.” There’s no hesitation, but after I say it, I wish I could take it back. I need to hold my cards closer to the chest, so to speak. I’ll give myself away if I’m not careful.

She nods. “In my mind you were.”

“What do you mean?” Now I’m intrigued.

“I was with someone who didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Did you come?”