Bared to Him Read online

  He realised that was what he’d liked best about her. Until this moment, he hadn’t seen it himself.

  The women he’d been with were fake, from their whitened smiles, to their highlighted hair, and their surgically enhanced features, and all of them had their sights set on becoming the future Mrs Dettmer. Lacey—was that her name?—had ordered new furniture for his place in anticipation. A few had gone along with his BDSM predilections, but only with the hope of wearing a ring, not his domination.

  He recalled that Myka had left the club wearing his collar. That thought made his cock tighten.

  Another realisation followed. The moment they’d met and experienced sexual attraction, she hadn’t known who he was.

  Phillip downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp.

  * * * *

  Tuesday sucked.

  Myka downed her first cup of coffee. It didn’t help.

  What had she been thinking, agreeing to go out with a guy for the first time on a Monday night? Oh, right. She had been thinking Phillip Dettmer was a regular guy. She hadn’t been thinking he was a Dom and a billionaire. Or that he’d turn her emotions inside out, leaving her feeling as raw mentally as she was physically.

  Her ass still burned from his plug. Her pussy was still tender from the way he’d fucked her. Her throat was a little sore, her nipples ached, her left buttock had a small bruise from his punishment spanking, and one of the cuffs had chafed the inside of her wrist.

  She’d been up half the night tossing and turning. She’d overslept, was running a half hour—or more—late for work, and now she’d walked into her bathroom to see his collar sitting on the vanity.

  She stared at the strip for at least a minute before picking it up and fastening it in place.

  It brought back a host of memories, despite her midnight resolution to never think of him again. In her mind’s eye, she pictured him kneeling between her legs, saw images of him rolling up his cuffs, affixing her to the spanking bench, forcing her to kneel in public, and securing the collar around her neck before attaching a leash to it. Everything she’d asked for, he’d generously given.

  The orgasms had made her splinter. But the way he’d read her, been ruthlessly uncompromising, and demanded her complete honesty had left her in turmoil. She’d never experienced anything like that with any other man. Having had a taste, she wanted more.

  Why couldn’t she be rich and beautiful, or, better yet, why couldn’t he be a frog, rather than a prince? She would have been attracted to him regardless of his income or accomplishments. The chemistry—she had to believe—had been as real for him as it was for her, otherwise he would have never propositioned her on the elevator.

  She sighed deeply.

  Myka Monroe was a pragmatist. And even Master Phillip had told her not to waste time feeling sorry for herself.

  Last night might have been all she’d ever hoped for, but it was over. There were other Doms out there that she could play with. She’d seen a few at the club, even if Phillip hadn’t introduced her.

  She wanted a Dom. If it wasn’t going to be Phillip Dettmer, it would be someone else.

  Resolved, she removed the collar.

  * * * *

  “Tell me what you need, Sir,” Daniella said.

  “A good night’s sleep,” he reluctantly admitted. What was he, an idiot? Here he was, with a beautiful, dark-haired, perfect submissive, facing him, hanging from a St Andrew’s cross. He held his favourite flogger, and he was thinking about a blonde-haired, blue-eyed neophyte. And he hadn’t stopped since Monday night, three days ago.

  This morning his secretary had brought in a small box, saying it had been dropped off by the receptionist on the twelfth floor. Once he was alone, he’d opened the package. The collar he’d placed around Myka’s throat was nestled in tissue paper, as if it were a gift.

  For the right woman, he supposed, it would be.

  He’d run his thumb over the leather for a moment, remembering it on her, with the leash attached. He recalled the image of her kneeling, looking up at him with trust, fear, and lust.

  Thoughts of certain women typically didn’t stay with him long, which was why the paparazzi labelled him a playboy and a few other less-polite terms. That was when he’d made an appointment with Daniella. He’d work out his need to dominate a sub and forget Myka in the process.

  It hadn’t worked. “I apologise,” he told Daniella.

  “May I be bold, Sir?”

  They’d played together for so long, he figured she would say whatever she wanted.

  “The rumour mill is buzzing with the news you were here with a sub and that she ran out.”

  “People should mind their own business,” he said, jaw tight.

  “Where you’re concerned, Sir?”

  He unfastened Daniella’s wrist before bending to unshackle her ankles. He was nose to chest with her, they were both naked, and he had no discernible physical reaction. An unused pile of condoms were on the counter, as if mocking him.

  “I know you, Sir. You watch your subs intently. So my guess is you didn’t frighten her off with a beating. After all, you spanked her in the bar and she still went to a private room with you.”

  “Do I have any secrets?” He stood.

  “Just one.” She rotated her shoulders beautifully, and that made her breasts rise and fall enticingly.

  But he remained uninterested.

  “Whether or not you’re going to go after her,” Daniella said. “If I have a vote, I say yes. Any woman who can throw you off your game is worth having.”

  “Who said I’m off my game, subbie?”

  She looked at him pointedly, flicking a glance to his crotch. “Someone who knows, Sir.” Without asking permission, she began to dress.

  He moved behind her to tighten her corset, cinching it until her waist was ridiculously small. Usually, even after he’d ejaculated, performing this small act for her aroused him. Tonight it was nothing more than an ending to an unspectacular scene.

  She shimmied her way into a miniskirt, put on her pumps, then leant forward to kiss his forehead. “Good luck, Sir.”

  Once again, he was alone in the playroom.

  He faced a conundrum. He could go home alone, check his email unnecessarily, have a solitary drink before jacking off in the shower. Or he could go after what he wanted.

  Resolved, he packed up his bag, dressed, then headed outside into the cool Denver air. He tossed the leather bag in the back of his SUV before climbing behind the wheel. He turned on the seat warmer and looked at the box in the centre console.

  * * * *

  This was pure craziness.

  Myka lay on the floor of her loft, a yoga mat beneath her, staring at the instructional video playing on the television. No matter how she tried, her body would not do that. She’d enjoyed a few of the stretches, but contorting into that position, lying on her back, grabbing her ankles with her back arched towards the sky was most definitely out of the question, even if it was good for her.

  She had felt stiff for two days after playing with Master Phillip, and if she were going to continue an exploration of BDSM, she wanted to be more resilient, and she desperately needed to relax. She’d barely slept all week, and exhaustion was claiming her normal sunshiny disposition.

  This programme wouldn’t help much. She needed something more basic than the beginner’s DVD.

  The doorbell rang. She frowned. She rarely had visitors drop by unexpectedly, and tonight she’d been planning an early night, a long bath, definitely a large glass of wine, and a hot fantasy while she masturbated with her new nipple clamps and plug-in vibrator.

  Master Phillip had provided plenty of material to fuel her fantasies, and tomorrow she was supposed to have coffee with a Dom to see if there was chemistry. She was trying her best to move on from Master Phillip, but she thought of him hourly, and he was still the source of her sleepless nights. He’d turned her on and made her crave the mind-bending experience of BDSM.

&n
bsp; The doorbell rang a second and third time.

  With a sigh, she muted the television volume and slowly got to her feet. Yoga was supposed to make her more flexible, but so far it had just left her sore. Yes, definitely a night for a hot bath.

  She opened the door and stood there in shock.

  Billionaire Phillip Dettmer stood there, his hair a bit mussed, the top two buttons on his shirt undone.

  “Uh…” Manners deserted her. “What do you want?”

  “Are you going to invite me in?” He smiled.

  “No,” she said.

  “No?”

  He sounded as shocked as she was. Even though she was chatting with other men, eradicating thoughts of him was impossible. She didn’t give a damn that he was one of the richest men on the planet. She had connected with him emotionally, and that was what had mattered most. “You promised to lay bare my innermost secrets.”

  “Go on,” he said, as if they were in his domain, with him being in total charge, rather than him standing outside her door on the third floor of a converted warehouse building.

  “Well, here it is…” She took a breath and looked up at him. Seeing the set of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders, and inhaling the scent of his power nearly undid her. She wanted to be ordered to her knees and craved his domination. But the hurt she’d endured when he sent her away ran deep. It wasn’t just a bruised ego, it was emotional devastation. “I won’t play with you again.”

  “Because…?”

  “Damn you, because it meant too much to me. I can’t be like other women. I can’t separate out my emotions from my reactions to you and your flogger. I can’t give myself over to you totally while we’re in a scene and then go back to my regularly scheduled life.” A lump formed in her throat, and she resolutely pushed away the traitorous thought that playing with him under his rules was better than not having him at all. But what happened when he fell in love, or when she saw a picture of him online with another woman? She reminded herself she couldn’t endure the emotional rollercoaster of being involved with him. “I’m sorry, Mr Dettmer, but you need to go away.”

  She tried to close the door, but he placed his foot in the threshold. He was so much bigger and stronger, there was no way she could force the door closed.

  “I want five minutes of your time.”

  She scowled.

  “If you still want me to go away after that time, I promise you’ll never hear from me again.”

  “You’re used to getting what you want.”

  “Please,” he said, instead of rising to her bait.

  “You can’t sit down, I’m not offering you a drink, I don’t want you to touch me, and I won’t pretend I want to hear anything you have to say.”

  He didn’t pause before saying, “Agreed.”

  Damn him for being so reasonable.

  She stepped back, and he entered, closing the door behind him. He didn’t lock it, and he didn’t attempt to move her deeper into the room.

  “Your five minutes starts now.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. You might not believe this, but Monday night was one of the hottest experiences I’ve ever had.”

  “And…”

  “I tried to scene with one of the club’s subs—”

  “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Damn it, Myka—”

  “You came here,” she interrupted. “Playing with you…” She sighed. She brushed her hair back from her face. “I was going to say it was a mistake, but it wasn’t. I learnt a lot about myself and what I like. I will never again settle for a relationship that’s less than what I want physically. For that, I can thank you.”

  “You’re eating into my five minutes,” he said, taking a step towards her.

  Part of her wondered how long he’d allow her the upper hand. She stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated, when what she really longed to do was fall into his arms.

  “Tell me your pussy isn’t wet.”

  “It is. And so what? I’m a big girl. I went to the adult toy store and bought a fabulous new vibrator.”

  “Tell me you don’t want me.”

  “Again, moot point.” He’d moved in a bit closer, and she tipped back her head to meet his gaze steadily. “I do want you. I just refuse to give in to my baser urges.”

  “Baser urges?”

  “Well, maybe I will give in, just not with you.”

  His brows drew together and his nostrils flared. She didn’t know him well, but she’d never seen him look like that, full of anger and thunder, not even when he’d spanked her. In fact, he’d seemed emotionally controlled when he’d punished her.

  When he took another step towards her, an instinct for self-preservation made her retreat. She wasn’t afraid of him. His anger was too restrained for that. But she’d goaded him, and she’d done it intentionally. “You don’t want me? Fine. I’ve been chatting with three Doms who would like to meet me. In fact, I’m meeting one tomorrow.”

  “No, you are not.”

  She held up her hands, not in surrender, but to keep him away. “Fuck you,” she said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Damn. Every nerve ending was on fire. She wanted him. She wanted not to want him. “I said, fuck you, Phillip Dettmer. You’re used to having whatever you want, whenever you want, and I’m telling you no. I will not be a play toy like the rest of your harem.”

  “Harem?”

  “Do I stutter?” she asked, getting seriously pissed off. “Go scene with your subs at the club, date people with money, but leave me alone. I want a man I can count on.” Despite herself, she took another step back. With him standing so close, she couldn’t breathe, could barely keep her thoughts straight, and, she was withering under his heated glare. “I know with your money you think you are Mr Oh-so-powerful, that your prestige can buy anything, but it can’t buy what you want here. I don’t share,” she told him. “And you don’t get to show up and tell me I can’t date and suck off other men, while you go out and see some, some…” She ran out of energy and space to retreat. The wall behind her brought her up short.

  He grabbed her hands and pinned her wrists to the wall above her head. He held her effortlessly with only one of his big hands. “I asked for five minutes and you granted it. Now you have two choices. Shut the fuck up for the next five minutes, or I’ll gag you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.”

  She knew she could use her safe word, but damn, she wanted him so badly she ached. She could survive five minutes. Couldn’t she?

  “First of all, I didn’t ask you to share.”

  “You went to the club.”

  “And had a limp dick.”

  She blinked. She’d seen his trousers just a moment ago.

  “If you’d have been quiet for thirty seconds, you would have already heard that part.”

  “You don’t have a limp dick now.”

  “You noticed.”

  “It’s damn near shoved up against me.”

  “You were warned.” He clamped a hand over her mouth.

  She struggled to get away, but her efforts were futile. He ensnared her, physically and emotionally.

  “I haven’t thought about anyone but you since Monday night. Letting you go at all was a mistake, one I don’t intend to repeat. I don’t draw wobbly lines. My boundaries are non-negotiable. You don’t share? Well, neither the fuck do I.”

  She raised her brows.

  “I thought I could introduce you to BDSM and let you walk away. I was wrong. You are unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I love your honesty, your sassiness, your desire to please.”

  He released his grip on her mouth.

  When he nodded his permission to speak, she said, “We’re from two different worlds. I’ll never fit in yours and you will certainly never fit in mine.” She tipped her chin back, feeling a bit defiant. Her heart raced. She so desperately wanted something she shou
ldn’t. “I grew up poor. My mother never married my father. She worked her ass off so I could succeed. I pay the rent on her apartment, and I wish I could do more.”

  “You don’t know my beginnings. There was no silver spoon in my childhood. I got lucky with a few innovations and investments.” He shrugged. “I am no different today than when I went to school on a scholarship. And frankly, I like that you’re nothing like the other women in my life. You were attracted to me before you knew who I was, not because of who I am. I’m going to ask you something I’ve never asked another woman.”

  She remained quiet.

  His voice was raw, thick with emotion. “Please, Myka, wear my collar.”

  Her heart stopped completely.

  “That’s all it took to shut you up?” he asked with humour.

  The vulnerability in his tone had undone her. “I—I…” He’d never wanted to collar another woman? And some of the world’s most beautiful women had approached him.

  “Talk to me,” he said with a hint of desperation.

  “Wearing a collar… I don’t really know what that means.”

  “It means different things to different couples. But to me it means we’ll be exclusive unless both of us agree we want to include someone else. And that may never happen, and I’m fine with that. It means you’ll live in my house with me. You can keep your place if you want or you can rent it out or sell it. You can make that decision whenever you want. It means you’ll be my submissive. We can negotiate the rules. But essentially, if you want to keep working, you can. Or you can work for me. I could use your financial aptitude. Frankly, managing my personal life in addition to my businesses can be challenging. Are you still listening?”

  “Keep going.”

  “I have a staff, and you can continue to utilise them. I don’t need someone to do the laundry or cook the meals. I need a lover who is as committed to my pleasure as I am to hers. You will wear a collar always as a reminder of our obligation to one another. When we’re alone, I expect you to be my cock slut.” He paused. “You can take as long as you want to make your decision. As long as the answer is yes.”