Page 10 of Going Deep (Odyssey #3)

Turning away from that uncomfortable thought—it felt very weird to be sitting there sans underpants—she opened her eyes. Michael was watching her, his gaze focused, the pages forgotten in his lap. And the nerves, settled only moments before, jumped back to life.

“Nervous?” he asked in a low voice rich with amusement.

“Yes,” she answered honestly and watched his lips curve into a smile.

“Are you always so honest?”

“No,” she confessed. “ But Lola was pretty clear that lying about this stuff would be a very bad idea.”

The amusement in his gaze deepened. “ And she was right.”

Her eyes darted down to the pages, loose in his lap, then back up. “ Are you done reading already?” she asked, then winced. “ Sorry . Am I allowed to ask that?”

“You’re allowed to ask anything you want,” he said. “ And yes, I am. I do, however, have a few questions for you.”

Nerves danced in her belly, a not entirely unpleasant sensation. She’d never been anxious and sexually aroused at the same time before, and it was…different. “ Okay . Did I miss something?”

“You were very thorough,” he assured her. “ I just need to know if you have any injuries or conditions that might impact play?”

She frowned in thought. “ I don’t think so, but I’ve never played, so I don’t really know.”

“Something that might prevent you from holding a certain position, like kneeling or having your arms bound above your head,” he elaborated.

She shook her head. “ Nothing like that.”

“Do you have any chronic conditions, like diabetes, sleep apnea, high blood pressure?”

She started to shake her head, then changed her mind. “ I have generalized anxiety disorder.”

His gaze sharpened. “ With depression?”

“No. Just the anxiety. I take an SSRI for it.”

“SSRI side effects can include sexual dysfunction,” he commented. Casually , like they were talking about the weather. “ Any issues there?”

“Some problems early on,” she admitted, striving to match his tone. Yes , it does look like rain. “ They’ve pretty much gone away.”

“What problems?”

She wanted to squirm—this was all so damn personal —but kept her gaze level. “ Difficulty reaching orgasm. It’s not really a factor anymore.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, his glittering eyes reminding her outrageously of last night. “ Any other medications?”

She was getting uncomfortable, kneeling there in leather while her thighs got wetter. “ Just birth control. An IUD .”

He nodded. “ Let’s talk about sex.”

Hadn’t they been? “ Okay .”

“Do you want to include sex in our scene tonight?”

“Uh… I thought that was the whole point.”

“Pleasure is the point,” he corrected. “ It doesn’t necessarily have to include intercourse.”

Speak for yourself, she thought. “ I’d like my pleasure to include intercourse, please.”

“That’s handy,” he said and gave her that slow, sexy smile. “ So would I . I do have to insist that we use condoms.”

This was officially the weirdest pre-sex conversation she’d ever had. “ So do I .”

“Good. Anything else I should know?”

She shook her head. “ No . Um . No , Sir , I don’t think so.”

“If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to speak up.” Setting her pages on the table next to him, he waved a hand. “ Stand , please.”

Praying her legs would hold her, she pushed to her feet. He bent to pick up the pillow, set it aside, then sat back in his chair.

She shouldn’t have felt more submissive standing in front of him than she had kneeling, but somehow she did.

“I can see you didn’t wear a bra,” he said, once again sounding like he was discussing the weather. “ Did you follow my other instructions?”

“Yes, Sir .”

“Show me.”

Oh, boy . “ Here ? Now ?”

“Here.” His expression was calm, his gaze expectant. “ Now .”

She glanced around. People crowded the bar area, though they were still giving their little corner of the room a wide berth, and more than one pair of eyes was aimed her way.

She inventoried her reaction: a little zing of nerves, a tremor of trepidation, but there was no panic, no fear.

And she could feel her pulse in her pussy.

Okay, then.

She looked down at the skirt. With the zipper undone, her leg was bare nearly to the waist, the narrow opening at the top of the skirt showing the jut of her hipbone. She grasped the zippered edge and, like a curtain being pulled back from a window, lifted it.

His eyes gleamed, holding hers as she lifted the skirt high enough to expose the tops of her thighs, then the bare flesh he sought. He held her gaze a heartbeat longer before dropping down. Her thighs quivered with tension, with excitement as he looked at her.

“Excellent,” he murmured, and before she could release the skirt and let it fall back into place he moved, pressing his hand over her naked pussy.

She gasped, shocked at the sudden intimacy.

He rested his palm over her mound, his fingers sliding between her legs over her labia, slick with her arousal.

And getting slicker by the second.

“You,” he said in a low murmur she had to strain to hear, “are a very good girl.”

While she was grappling with the flood of sensation caused by his hand on her pussy—and the flood of emotions caused by his words—he stood. And he kissed her.

It was gentle, almost sweet, and somehow all the more devastating for it.

“You can let go of your skirt now,” he whispered against her lips.

“Right.” She uncurled her fingers to let the leather fall, disappointed when his hand left her pussy. Then blushed when he grabbed her hand and she felt how wet his fingers were.

His smile was knowing. “ Come with me.”

She trailed behind him as he wove through the crowd once again, keeping her eyes cast demurely down—mostly because she didn’t want to look anyone who might have seen her little show in the eye, but she imagined it looked nicely submissive.

She let herself look around as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

The play areas were full tonight, as were the observation areas, and she tried to take it all in.

There was more than one flogging taking place—it seemed to be a very popular activity.

The spanking bench was occupied by a slender young man who was getting his ass beat with a paddle by a woman in a G -string and thigh-high boots, her bare breasts bouncing with each hard swing.

Some of the areas that had stood empty the night before were filled with new equipment she didn’t recognize, and she tried to make a mental note of the ones she wanted to ask Michael about later.

Then he was pulling her toward the stairs to the third floor, and she thought, oh boy.