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eyes squeezed shut, her mouth slightly agape, her breasts heaving. Jamison caught peripheral movement and realized the driver was leaning out the window, taking a picture with his phone. Not that a cell would capture anything at the distance and in the relative darkness. It wasn’t Ivone’s face the driver wanted a picture of, he was sure, and it thrilled Jamison that he had the real thing. That Ivone was his . He couldn’t even withdraw that thought, because he realized it was exactly what he felt. He had shown a complete stranger that he owned this woman and that she had accepted him, trusted him with her pleasure. The predicted honks had him sliding back to his seat and starting up the vehicle. Ivone didn’t move or say anything for the remainder of the journey.
    He pulled up in front of his home, right at the top of the circular drive. John had the front door open by the time Jamison made it around to help Ivone down. He left the wand in her and denied her the coat, although he threw it over his arm. Time to establish his boundaries and push hers further. He guided her up the wide steps and past John, into the foyer, pressing her down to kneel at his feet.
    “Thank you, John. Put some water in the master bedroom please, and then go to bed.” He passed John Ivone’s coat.
    “Yes, Mr. Landry. And breakfast?”
    “Let’s try for eight, but organize something that can wait until nine if necessary.”
    “Certainly.”
    Jamison watched his only live-in “servant” tuck the coat into the hall closet and then make his dignified way down the hall. John had been with him for years, since before his father died. John knew him inside and out and totally accepted him, which was more than Jamison could say about his father. That man had been impossible to please and never thought Jamison would amount to anything. The old man had left everything to Jamison by virtue of his gender alone, assuming that he would take care of his sister. That was the only accurate assumption Landry Senior had ever made about his son. Perhaps because of that, if not in spite of it, Jamison had built his father’s financial empire into something much greater than the old man had been capable of. It was too bad that he hadn’t been able to work on himself to become less dark, a more approachable sort. Maybe if his mother had lived past his birth, if he hadn’t killed her in gaining his own life, things would have been different.
    John hadn’t ignored Ivone. Jamison hoped she knew that. He wasn’t being ignorant by not introducing them either. It was simply that he wasn’t certain where this was going. He had never brought a woman home and put her into immediate submission before. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he had brought one home. His playroom was sadly underutilized. He had seen John’s surprise, although the old Brit was too well trained to let it show very much. He would introduce them at breakfast tomorrow unless Ivone asked to leave before then. He knew he was testing her, and couldn’t make himself slow down. It was like he wanted to get any issues out of the way so they could move forward. He was doing everything he could think of that might push her away, and desperately hoping nothing would do so. Putting Ivone into submission just as she entered his house was symbolic, spontaneous, and very important to him, even if he hadn’t planned it. No wonder John had been surprised. Jamison had surprised himself! He bent to pull Ivone to her feet. Her expression was neutral but those mismatched eyes flashed at him for a moment. He recognized a temper, a fierce spirit behind all that submission. He had really wanted a compliant woman, he mused, so if Ivone challenged him, it would be a battle of wills, unless it was a reasonable challenge of course. If there was such a thing in a D/s relationship. Of course there was. Jamison knew the protocol, although he found he had stepped outside of it tonight and that was