Page 11 of Going Deep (Odyssey #3)

M ichael held Ginger’s hand firmly in his as they reached the third floor and reminded himself to keep to the plan.

The small bit of domination he’d subjected her to in the bar had been meant both to test her natural instincts for submission and to excite her, and had succeeded at both—all too well.

She’d followed his directions with an eagerness tinged with nerves that had his inner wolf howling, and he’d given serious thought to ditching the plan in favor of fucking her right there in the bar.

She might have let him. Her pussy had practically flooded his hand, soft and wet and ready. But it would’ve been breaking the rules—no play on the first floor—and she wasn’t ready for such a public display. So he’d stick to the plan.

He wove his way through the crowd in the wide hallway, nodding in response to the greetings sent his way. He reached the last room at the end of the hall and, flipping the sign on the door from RESERVED to IN USE , stepped inside.

He closed the door, watching her face carefully. It didn’t lock—none of the doors did, for safety reasons—but no one would enter. The curtains over the viewing window were already drawn—this time, this first time, he wanted her all to himself.

Eyes wide, she looked around the room.

Unlike most of the third-floor rooms, this one didn’t have a specific theme.

It held the simplest of equipment: a spanking bench, a bondage table, a St .

Andrew’s cross. There was a straight-backed, armless chair, perfect for administering an over the knee spanking, and a comfortable sofa in black leather for post-scene relaxing—or fucking.

A door at one end led to a closet that held a basic first aid kit, a fire extinguisher—as per city code—half a dozen floor pillows, and a stack of warm, fluffy blankets.

The door at the other end led to a full bath with a shower.

The walls were painted gray, the floor was polished concrete, and the entire space was about fifteen feet by twenty feet.

Large enough to work for most types of play, small enough to be intimate.

Michael stood quietly, waiting for Ginger to return her attention to him. He could tell she was nervous in the slight tremble of her hands, the tense set of her shoulders. Her tongue came out to wet her lips, something he was learning signaled a rise in her anxiety level.

Maybe giving her too much time to think was the wrong idea.

He reached out to take her hand again, absorbing the small jerk she gave at his touch. She turned to face him, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips again. “ I’m nervous.”

He imagined that little pink tongue licking over the head of his dick and smiled. “ I know.”

“Of course, you do,” she said with a sigh, and he chuckled.

“Let’s sit for a minute,” he said and tugged her over to the sofa. He sat at one end and drew her down to sit on his knee. “ Comfortable ?”

“Not really.” She wiggled, frowning. “ I feel like I’m going to fall.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you.”

She looked at him dubiously, but the wiggling stopped, so he moved on. “ Tell me about your anxiety.”

Her frown deepened. “ What do you mean?”

“I mean, what happens when you get anxious? What do I need to look for?”

“Oh.” Her expression cleared. “ I guess it looks like panic? I’m not sure. I’ve never thought about how it looks from the outside.”

He tried a different approach. “ What does it feel like?”

“Like I can’t breathe, can’t think. My heart races. But I can usually pull it back before it gets that far.”

“How do you pull it back?”

“Deep breathing, visualization.” She looked uncomfortable. “ A couple of other techniques. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“All right.” He pondered that for a moment. “ Can I trust you to safeword if that happens?”

“Can’t I just use yellow?” she asked, wiggling on his knee again. “ I mean, if I can pull it back, do we have to stop?”

“I don’t have any experience playing with someone with anxiety, and I’m inclined to err on the side of caution.”

She didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “ I understand.”

“But,” he decided, “we can pick an anxiety-specific safeword, and evaluate from there.”

Her eyes lit at the suggestion. “ How about blue? To stick with the color theme.”

“Blue works,” he decided. “ Can I trust you to use it?”

She nodded firmly. “ Yes . Yes , Sir . I promise.”

He suppressed a smile. He half expected her to cross her heart, hope to die. “ Good . And the others?

“Green is go, yellow is pause, red is stop.”

“Excellent. Since you’re very new to all this, I’m going to be checking in with you frequently.”

Her head bobbed. “ Okay . That’s good.”

“Also, since you’ll be restrained, I will not leave this room. You will never be out of my sight. Clear ?”

“I’ll be restrained?” she echoed, then blinked. “ I mean, clear, Sir .”

“Good girl. Stand up.”

He remained seated while she rose to stand in front of him. Her hands gave a small twitch and then stilled, hanging loosely at her sides as she waited for further instruction.

He kept his gaze steady and lifted his hands to her hips. “ Normally , I would have you remove your own clothes,” he told her. “ But this time, I’d like to do the honors. And it will please me, Ginger , if you stand perfectly still until I tell you to move.”

“Yes, Sir ,” she whispered, eagerness and nerves making the words all but vibrate.

He grasped the tab of the zipper of her skirt, and keeping his eyes on hers, raised it the two inches to the waistband. It resisted briefly and then gave way, and her skirt fell open and away.

The shirt, no longer held in place by the skirt, fell to just below her hips, the hem wrinkled from having been tucked in. He set the skirt carefully aside, still watching her face, and raised his hands to the buttons on her shirt.

One by one, he pushed the small discs through their holes, taking his time.

The backs of his fingers brushed against her sternum, her upper abdomen, her belly as he worked his way down.

She shivered, the muscles jumping under her skin, but she kept still.

Her eyes were locked onto his, her breathing coming in short, shallow pants that might have given him pause if he hadn’t seen the arousal in her face, her eyes.

He reached the last button and parted the edges of the shirt, pushing them aside so the length of her torso was framed by the white cotton, and finally dropping his eyes from hers, looked his fill.

Her breasts were full, fuller than he’d expected, with heavy lower curves and pinkish-brown nipples already drawn tight with arousal.

The skin there was paler than that on her arms and legs, and he could see the tan line inches above the swell of her breasts.

Her entire torso was milk-pale, unused to seeing the sun.

His gaze trailed downward, over the sleek plane of her abdomen, the gentle curve of her lower belly. Her mound was freshly shaved, her pussy bare, and he could see the sheen of moisture on her labia.

He shifted to look lower, at the trembling muscles of her thighs, her rounded calves. He nearly grinned as he realized she still wore her shoes, the fuck-me pumps with the ankle strap. It was a hell of a look, and he was tempted to leave them. But he wanted her in ankle cuffs.

“Let’s get these off,” he murmured and, crouching, reached for the strap over her left ankle.

Her hand landed on his shoulder, and his head came up. “ Don’t move,” he snapped.

She jerked and her hand dropped back to her side. Confusion and worry clouded her eyes, and he knew she was thinking about maintaining her balance while he removed her shoes. But he said nothing, wanting to see if she would follow directions without an explanation.

He returned to his task, unbuckling the strap and grasping the heel of the shoe in one hand and her calf in the other.

“ Lift out,” he told her, and after a slight hesitation she did, her body shaking slightly as she struggled for balance.

As soon as her heel cleared the shoe he let go of it, grabbing her opposite thigh to hold her steady, and she stepped out.

He moved to the other shoe without looking up, repeating the process. This time she moved easier, relaxing when she realized he wouldn’t let her fall. He smiled, pleased. Trusting him with this one small thing was a step toward trusting him with much, much more.

He ran his hands up her smooth, strong legs, deliberately scraping the rough edge of his hands over sensitive skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

He continued up, sliding around the tops of her thighs to her hips, to the cool, firm curves of her buttocks.

He glided his palms over her in circles, her skin warming quickly under his hands. Sensitizing it for what was to come.

Leaving the enticing curves of her ass, he brought his hands around to her belly under the hem of the shirt. He lingered there for a moment, enjoying the soft curves and smooth skin, before sliding up to cup her breasts.

She inhaled sharply, her body giving an involuntary jerk. He looked up at her face, noted that her lips were parted, her cheeks charmingly flushed. “ Stay still,” he reminded her, his tone low and firm. He felt her quiver slightly under his hands as she fought to obey. To please him.

And he was pleased.

He shifted his gaze from her face to her breasts.

Round , with sweet nipples that were tightening and darkening even as he watched.

His olive skin provided such a contrast to her milk-pale skin, hard and dark where she was soft and pale.

The plump lower curves fit his palms perfectly, heavy and firm under the softness.

He couldn’t help the low growl that rumbled in his throat, darkly pleased when she quivered in response. “ How sensitive are your nipples, Ginger ?”

“Not…not very,” she replied, her voice husky with arousal.

“Hmm.” He flicked his thumbs over them once, twice, smiling when her breathing hitched and they tightened even further. “ Are you sure about that?”