Page 21

I could handle Stephen’s kink if he used words of affection and softer touches on occasion. I would gladly humble myself and submit without hesitation if he lavished love on me as that Viking god had with his Bella.
A ding rang twice atop the soft music from overhead, announcing the shibari class was about to start.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I shuffled along behind Stephen, quickly taking my mind from despondency.
Cooler than the lounge, the smaller room where we’d had the presentation the weekend before made my skin pebble. Purely from the temperature, I told myself. It had nothing to do with the citrus scent in the air or the bass voice welcoming us in and inviting us to claim a station for the class.
Stephen sat near the back, and I kneeled beside his chair where he pointed to. I peeked up through my lashes.
Master Cooney filled out his black leathers ten times better than Stephen could ever dream of doing. Thick, muscular thighs, a bulge my mouth began drooling to taste. Rippled abdominal muscles led upward to prominent pectorals, which spread outward into wide shoulders. He was a mountain of a man, every inch of him a magnetic tuning fork to my gaze and body.
The dimpled chin covered in clipped red whiskers, his square jaw, and Grecian nose. Dark eyes staring into mine…
Wetness rushed to my vaginal walls, and I felt instantaneous need. To be touched. To be filled.
Face hot, I lowered my head. I shouldn’t have such wants, such desires for someone other than Stephen. My pulse thrummed in my ears, and my hands trembled where they lay palm up on my thighs.
“Stephen,” Master Cooney called out once the class quieted. “Would you be willing to offer Becky’s assistance again this evening?”
My breath caught.
No, no, no…
I bit my lip as Stephen stood and tugged on my lead rope.
“Of course. My Becky would love nothing more.”
Face flaming and legs trembling, I followed him toward the platform where he unclasped my rope and told me to climb up and assist Master Cooney in showing the class how to be a proper submissive.
Shame flooded through me, but I accepted Master Cooney’s outstretched hand. Electrical currents rushed up my arm and settled in my nipples at his warm clasp around my fingers. He released his hold too soon—not soon enough.
No chair sat awaiting me, so I stood shivering, covering the apex of my thighs with shaking hands, my focus on the floor where it belonged.
“Tonight,” Master Cooney began in his low voice, “I’ll be showing some more complex knots. I’ve made handouts, which you should have found on your chairs.”
Papers rustled, and Master Cooney retrieved a coiled, red rope in my periphery. “Tonight, I’ll be using hemp as I’ll be suspending my lovely assistant.”
I bit back my snort of laughter. Suspend me? I glanced up at the rope overhead attached to a ring fixed in the ceiling. Did he not see the size of my ass and thighs?
He stood before me, his back to the rest of the room. “Becky, look at me.”
I lifted my head without hesitation, and an all-consuming desire for him rushed through me once more at the hunger in his warm eyes.
“May I touch you?” he murmured, his asking permission making my core clench.
I managed to nod.
He smiled as though thoroughly pleased by my consent, the same kindness I’d seen the weekend before in his steady gaze easing my discomfort at being the center of attention. “Your hair looks lovely tonight,” he whispered.
Tears stung my eyes. I had spent a half hour curling my hair in loose loops to caress over my collarbones like Stephen loved. My boyfriend hadn’t mentioned them, but at least he hadn’t given me grief over taking too long to ready myself for the night.
Master Cooney’s gaze dropped to my lips, and mine parted as I quickly inhaled. His smile dissolved, and hunger filled his eyes. His stare sent blood pulsing through my center, and a low moan escaped me.
His brow rose along with a corner of his mouth. “Are you ready, sweetness?”
The same pet name as the weekend before. Wetness hazed my vision as I nodded.
“You remember your safeword?”