Enamored Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘Marc voice.’ Even though she was joking, she visibly relaxed and closed her eyes as he washed her breasts and gently cleansed the makeup from her face.
    She always wore quite a bit of black eyeliner, and seeing her with bare eyes was a new experience for him. It made her look softer.
    He washed her hair, using the comb that came with his hair clipper kit to detangle it. When she was finally clean, she was practically asleep.
    “Are you feeling more relaxed now?”
    “Yeah, I think I am.”
    “Good. You can step out of the tub.” He wrapped her in a large, fluffy white bath towel, and she remained motionless as he squeezed the water from her hair and combed it again.
    “Go lie on the bed,” he said. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll join you.”
    “Marc?” She looked up at him, her blue eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I’ve never been the sub before.”
    “I know. But you have all week to practice.”
    A single tear fell down her cheek and he took her face in his hand, wiping it away with his thumb. “Are you okay? Do you need to safeword? You can still change your mind. I’m not going to—fuck—rape you, or anything. Anything we do, I need to know you’re all right with it.”
    “I’m not changing my mind, Marc,” she said, shaking her head. “I just feel very . . . out of my element.”
    “That you are,” he agreed. “Go lie down, I’ll be there soon.”
    He watched as she hugged the towel around herself like a blanket and walked out of the bathroom, into his bedroom.
    Lauren was going to be in his bed, naked. His to do with as he pleased.
    Hell. In the memo line on that check to Roman, he really should have written the words thank you .

    L auren could hear the sound of the tub draining and the shower turning on when she left the master bathroom. She’d been in Marc’s bedroom before, usually after a long night of partying. She’d fall asleep on his couch and end up with her shoes off, on top of his covers with a throw blanket on top of her, his version of tucking a friend in, she supposed. He probably had done the same exact thing for Trevor or Roman before. In his own home, he’d go and crash in one of the guest rooms.
    But she’d never been in Marc’s bedroom, under the covers, waiting for him to tie her up, whip her, and fuck her, as he had so eloquently stated earlier. She’d given her consent, and she planned to follow through.
    It’s not like she’d never been whipped before, because any implement she used on a sub she tried out on herself first, either by asking another Dom to give her a lick so she could see how it felt, or striking her own thighs with differing levels of intensity so she could carefully control her submissive’s experience.
    But a couple of practice strokes, with the mind-set of this is what I will do as the Domme was completely different from submitting physically and mentally to her dear friend. This was the same guy who’d held her hair when she’d gotten seasick on the cruise they took to the Bahamas. And now here she was . . . in his bed. Waiting for him.
    Having him bathe her had been an arousing experience. In her mind, she kept drifting into imagining that he was servicing her, that she was still the Domme, but once he started speaking in that low, hypnotic voice of his, naming her body parts, claiming them as his own, something shifted.
    She’d felt his dominance, and it turned her on as much as it frightened her.
    What if there really was a part of her, deep down, that could be happy as a submissive? What did that mean for the rest of her life, for her identity as Mistress Lauren?
    Being in control at all times was the one thing that made her feel comfortable in situations—any situation. Not just at WhipperSnapper. In regular clothes, which for her tended toward denim and tank tops, she’d walk down the streets of New York City and know that she could handle anything if she had to. If someone bumped into her by