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Excerpt: Whipped Cream
Celia closed the door and went back down the hall toward her office, the hair on the back of her neck tingling as she walked through the dimly lit corridor. Frowning, she stopped and looked behind her, but she was alone. Shaking her head, she continued to her door and pushed it open, the faux stone swinging easily on well-oiled hinges. Shutting it behind her, she leaned against the seam and closed her eyes, tired from a too-long work day and thankful it was almost over.
She breathed in deeply, her brows drawing together again as a scent she hadn’t experienced in a long time wrapped itself around her and woke a part of her she’d thought was dead.
“Duncan,” she breathed, not daring to open her eyes lest she lose the sensations rippling through her body. The only man who’d ever tapped into the submissive side of her nature, he’d left her when she refused to publicly acknowledge his dominance at the club. It would have been the end of her burgeoning business back then, when switches like her who played both a dominant and submissive depending on the circumstance were frowned on in the community. It was more acceptable now, but she hadn’t seen him in ten years. So what had brought the memories back, she wondered?
“That’s no way to greet your Master, is it? On your knees, sub.”
Celia’s eyes flew open and her whole body tensed. It took a moment to realize she wasn’t hallucinating, but it was definitely him leaning against her desk with those muscular arms crossed over a white t-shirt. His casual jeans and sneakers looked odd considering she’d never seen him in anything but leather before, but those dark, piercing eyes hadn’t changed.
Unfortunately, neither had his ability to tap into the submissive side of her nature. Even as she remained standing, she steadied herself with a hand on the doorknob, fighting the urge to give in to his command.
“Surely you haven’t forgotten me,” he said, pushing off the desk and moving closer with slow, deliberate steps. “Your body hasn’t. I can see you fighting to stay on your feet. What I don’t know is why. We’re in your office, no one can see… what’s the harm in showing your master some respect?”
She shook her head, holding out one hand. “Don’t come any closer. And you’re not my master, not any more. You gave up that position a long time ago when you decided to leave. Why are you here?”
He stepped into her hand, bumping against it with his chest, and she let it drop to her side. Being in the same room with him was dangerous enough. Touching him was the height of foolishness. One more step, and he loomed over her with his full six-foot-four frame, forcing her to look up.
“I’m here to claim what’s mine,” he said, the words practically rumbling out of his throat and vibrating to her core. “Now kneel.”
Celia sank to the ground, her knees shoulder width apart, arms behind her back, breasts thrust forward and eyes on the floor. It required no thought at all – he was right. Her body remembered, and traitor that it was, it wanted to be right where he wanted her.
“Much better,” he said, surprising her when he stepped back. A chair scraped on the floor as he turned it around. “Look at me, Celia.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze as he seated himself in front of her. His expression had softened a little, though he was definitely still in full Dom mode. She didn’t speak but merely raised an eyebrow as she waited. He chuckled, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.
“You’re still the only sub I know who can manage to look condescending from her knees. An admirable trait, though I’d imagine it’s annoyed some of your masters over the years…” He let the comment trail off, clearly more of a question than it sounded.
She stiffened her spine, shaking her head. “I’m a Dominatrix, Duncan. I don’t have a Master.”
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