“What are you afraid of?” I ask gently.

She shrugs and looks down, but I catch her chin with the tip of my finger and tilt her head back up.

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t like losing control,” she whispers. “I have to have control of my business, my financial life, my health, everything, Matt.”

“Okay.” I nod and push my fingers through her soft, short, dark hair. “What about when we had sex before? Did you hate giving up the control of that to me?”

“No,” she answers, and I grin.

Jackpot.

“There are different kinds of Doms, Nic. Some Doms want a full-time sub. Some even have slaves.”

She gasps and covers her mouth, her eyes wide in terror.

“Not that kind of slave, little one. Everything is always consensual and sane.”

“So these women voluntarily allow someone to call them a slave?” Her brow is pursed in a frown, and she’s suddenly overcome her fear, and curiosity has set in.

“Not just women,” I reply and laugh when her jaw drops again. Oh, it’s going to be so fun introducing her to my world.

“Wow, I had no idea.”

“When you were at the erotic ball with your friend, was that the first time you’d been anywhere like that?”

“Yeah, she dragged me,” she replies.

“I’m sorry, baby.” I kiss her forehead and nuzzle her nose with mine. “If I’d known, I would have done things a little differently. I thought you were just shy.”

“I didn’t want you to do anything differently.” She frowns.

“So you enjoyed yourself?”

She nods and then bites her lip before saying, “I’m no one’s slave, Matt. Voluntarily or otherwise.”

“I’m not a slave master, Nic. That doesn’t interest me at all. As I was saying, some Doms are into the slave thing. Some are happy with a submissive in the bedroom, and ask that their sub obeys their rules out of the bedroom as well, especially in a club atmosphere.”

“What are the rules?” she asks.

“Good question,” I reply with a smile. “They vary with the couple, based on their desires and hard limits.”

She swallows and then nods. “Okay.”

“But then there are other Doms who are perfectly happy to be sexually dominant but have a normal vanilla relationship outside of the bedroom.” I grin down at her. “That’s the category I fall into. The restraints are my kink. I love that you’re a business owner and a strong-willed woman. But behind closed doors, I would like to pursue a relationship like the one you tasted a few weeks ago.”

I sit back and wait while she processes this information, chewing on her bottom lip. “So, you won’t try to tell me how to run my shop?”

“Why would I do that?” I ask with a raised brow. “The only thing I know about cupcakes is that they’re delicious.”

“You won’t choose my clothes for me?”

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s too much, in my opinion, but it works very well for other couples.”

She nods again, deep in thought.

“It’s a lot of information.” It’s not a question, and she blinks a few times before meeting my gaze.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “It is. Why no safe word?”

“In clubs, safe words are mandatory, so if we ever go to one together, your word will be ‘red.’ The second you say ‘red,’ everything stops, no questions asked. But, honestly, the way I feel about safe words is, you shouldn’t need one with me. It’s my job to learn what you can handle and what you can’t, and I’m a firm believer in ‘no means no.’”

“I beg to differ,” she interjects with a laugh.

I laugh with her and pinch her round ass, then smooth it with the flat of my hand. “Sassy girl.”

“I don’t have a problem saying ‘no.’”

“So I’ve learned, and I’m glad. It’s imperative that you always communicate with me. I’ll always be watching you for signs of any distress, but I can’t read your mind, so you have to be honest.”

“I can do that. Okay, another question.”

“Anything,” I reply and yawn.

“I can ask tomorrow. You’re so tired.” She rests her palm on my cheek.

I turn my face and press a kiss to her cool hand, enjoying her touch. “I’m okay, let’s get this all talked out so we can move on.”

“I noticed some girls called their Doms sir or master. Do you want me to call you that?” Her eyes say, Never in a million years, dude.

I offer her a smile and shake my head. “I’m not your father, and I won’t insist that you address me as sir or master. I’m Matt or any other sexy-as-hell nickname you might come up with for me. But if we do go to the club, you should know that I’m known as Master Matt there.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a master in Shibari, and I’ve achieved Master Dom status within the club. So the subs address me as such.” She frowns, but I reassure her with, “It’s just the protocol, Nic. It’s respectful.”

“Will I have to kneel?”

“If we’re at the club, yes, but I don’t expect you to kneel when we’re alone.”

She exhales deeply and then turns tired eyes to me. “Is that it?”

I chuckle and drag my knuckles down her cheek. “Honestly, I’m shocked that we’re having this conversation so soon.”

“I was just curious,” she responds with wide eyes, but I stop her before she gets the wrong idea.

“I’m happy, Nic. I was going to suggest that we pursue this, but I thought I’d have to be a bit more persuasive.”

“Well, I am curious, and I do like you, Matt. But I need to be clear with you, this is new to me, and I’m not okay with being told how to live my life.”

“That’s fair.” I nod. “And this also needs to be said: I don’t share, Nic. Ever. I won’t let other Doms touch you. They may watch”—her eyes widen at that—“but they’ll never touch you.”

“I don’t share either,” she whispers.

“Good, then we’re on the same page.”

I stand with her in my arms. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“Wow, that was quick,” she replies sarcastically.

“We are both exhausted, baby. I’d like to curl up around you and sleep for about eight hours and then wake up and bury myself inside you for another eight.”