Chapter 2 #3
As they left, he regarded his little armful. He pulled her headphones off. “You can open your eyes, Virginia.” Her preferred “Gin” suited her personality, but he liked how her full name rolled off his tongue when he wanted her attention.
She blinked and tipped her head up. Her pupils were dilated in the darkness, turning her eyes a deeper green. Her gaze wandered over his face, then she gave her head a shake and looked around. When she noted the absence of students, she asked, “Are you done with me?”
Not even close. “Thank you for being an excellent assistant.” He kissed her lightly.
Soft body, soft lips, generous spirit. And she had a worried line between her brows again.
“I’m sorry I had to pinch you,” he said.
“It wasn’t a problem.” Her hand flattened on his chest as if to shove him away, but she didn’t. And her next inhalation was deeper. Liked touching him, did she?
“You’re welcome to stay for the bondage part of the class.” He smiled slightly. “Jake and Kallie will be back to help which means you can just watch.”
Her eyes lit up. “Wonderful. I’ve always wanted to”—she caught herself—“to see what it looked like.” Flushing, she jumped down, grabbed her clothes, and started back toward her corner.
“Virginia.”
She pulled on her shirt first, then turned.
He pointed to a picnic table beside the fire pit, but out of the way. “Sit there. The corner is too cold for you.”
Wordlessly, she stared at him, mouth open. “I… Well, thank you.”
As she obeyed, he frowned. He’d been giving her orders; a new one shouldn’t startle her. Surely, she wasn’t surprised that he’d noticed she was chilled.
“They all did well,” Atticus told Kallie later.
Two of the couples were enjoying the more…intimate…finales to their scenes. The third, more inhibited, couple had retreated to their cabin for privacy.
The bondage lesson had gone well. Each new Dom had secured his submissive as instructed, each had been careful to keep the ropes snug, but not overly constrictive. Then Atticus had taught predicament bondage, and the submissives had been whimpering delightfully within five minutes.
“Nice class,” Kallie said. “I love the either-or bondage you came up with. At the same time, I hope Jake never tries it on me.”
Atticus grinned. Tonight’s setup would let the submissive bend to ease the pull on her nipple clamps, but that movement would tighten and drag the rope positioned directly over her clit.
There was nothing like giving a submissive a choice between two evils.
After a couple of minutes, she’d have shed the day’s worries and would be focused totally on the two uncomfortable choices.
Speaking of submissives, one had disappeared. “Where’s our little redhead?”
“Gin?” Kallie nodded toward the two couples. “She didn’t want to be a voyeur.”
“Ah. How did she happen to join us this weekend?”
“She was curious about BDSM. So in return for assisting me with camp chores, she got a chance to watch the lessons.”
“No Dom or boyfriend to bring?”
“From what she said, I think she’s unattached,” Kallie said.
Excellent. It had been a long time since anyone intrigued him as much as the little redhead did.
He’d enjoyed flustering her. He’d like to do more.
To arouse her. To see what it would take before she lost control.
Her lovely drawl said she grew up in the Deep South.
Would she have the inhibitions that came with being raised in the Bible Belt?
Overcoming those would be a fun challenge.
He fucking loved reducing a female to the point where she thought of nothing except what he was doing to her. He asked, “She only wanted to watch? She’s that new?”
“She’d never even met a Dom before. In fact, she thought the BDSM fiction she read was invented to sell books. You can’t get much newer.”
“Mmm.” A newbie. He usually avoided them, but hell, he was an instructor. It would be a shame not to provide some…education. “You mind if I yank her out of her cabin and see if she wants some hands-on participation?”
“Atticus, I don’t want you scaring her.” Kallie frowned before her lips curved into a smile. “But if you can lure her into enjoying BDSM, well, she’d be a great addition to our gang.”
“Far be it from me to deprive you of a new buddy. I’ll see what I can do.”
In her cabin, Gin heard the laughter from the pavilion.
What a weekend. Last night, Jake had taught the new Doms how to dominate their women. And despite hearing him explain exactly how to make a woman submit, she’d still found watching to be incredibly hot. And had longed to be one of the submissives.
Tonight…well, tonight had been even more fascinating. Even more disconcerting.
Atticus had taught the Doms how to choose rope, how to ensure the safety of the submissive, how to turn simple knots into restraints. Then the two experienced Doms had helped the beginners tie their women in different ways.
Gin had found her breath coming faster. Just from watching. The mere idea of giving a man so much control over her was terrifying. And so, so sexy.
Now she’d added in the memories of Atticus touching her.
Every place his fingers had brushed still tingled—her cheek, above her breasts, her neck, her stomach.
His hand had felt huge when he’d flattened it over her belly, and when he’d embraced her, the warmth of his body had sunk right into her bones.
His easy voice had held an underlying steely command. And with each order, her attention had narrowed to a pinpoint focus.
How had he made her obey so quickly?
She chewed on her lip and considered the squareness of his shoulders, the straightness of his back, the way he held his head. Ex-military, she’d bet, and he’d commanded others. He wore authority as easily as his hat.
He was definitely a Dom. And according to those BDSM books, she was certain she’d be considered submissive. He’d surely treated her as if he thought so.
Her response to his confident control didn’t rest too easily in her memory. After she’d planted her butt on the picnic table, she’d obeyed him without thinking. Following his orders had felt good and as natural as…
As if she was a square peg, and after years of being surrounded by round slots, she’d found a square slot. It had her name on it and fit her perfectly. That there was purely worrisome.
She had also noted that the word submissive wasn’t nearly as appealing as dominant.
But Kallie was submissive. Yesterday, bless her heart, she’d gone from obeying Jake to tossing out orders when setting up camp. Anyone calling Kallie a pushover would find her fist in his tummy.
Gin grinned at the thought.
These people certainly lived in an interesting world. But no need to worry herself about the lifestyle. She’d only ventured here to get her questions answered, and she’d achieved her goal.
Now she’d enjoy a quiet evening in a mountain cabin, snuggled down in a warm bed with a new novel. That was romantic enough for her.
She picked up her book—a Civil War romance. In the beginning, the heroine possessed a satisfying personality, but two chapters in, she’d descended into wimpdom. The girl needed a good kick in the posterior or, as the inmates said—to grow a pair.
Poor southern belle. Truly, in the south, females had a tough time acquiring big brass balls.
Mama had emphasized appearance over aptitude, courtesy over competence.
Gin had been able to do flawless makeup, hair, and nails, dress attractively, and graciously hostess a dinner party, all before she reached eleven. And then her father had walked out.
Life had become difficult. In addition to the financial woes, she’d had to tend to Mama, who went through men faster than Sherman burned through Georgia.
But she’d also discovered the rewards of standing on her own two feet. Maybe she lacked big brass balls, but she’d learned independence and acquired courage the size of…oh…marbles.
Unfortunately, her bravery hadn’t survived Atticus. Being studied by that Dom with the steely blue eyes was awfully intimidating. And hot.
Yesterday, Penelope noticed a big brute of an inmate and said, “I’d do him in a heartbeat.” Gin felt the same way about Atticus, and wasn’t that a sorry thing to know about herself?
Pfft. Enough. She turned her gaze back to her reading.
A chapter later, the heroine had rediscovered her backbone, when approaching footsteps caught Gin’s attention. The steps changed to thuds as the person crossed the tiny porch. Her porch.
There was a tap on the door. Before she could answer, Atticus stepped into the cabin.
“What are—” Gin tossed her book aside. “I do believe you’re in the wrong cabin. This one is mine.”
“I know, darlin’,” he said. “I came to find you.” His gaze swept over her, making her all too aware of the lowness of her décolletage. “Gorgeous nightie, pet, but you quit the evening a little early, didn’t you?”
“It seemed appropriate when everyone grew…occupied.”
As he crossed the room, everything about him was cowboy sexy. Those long legs, battered boots, black hat, and bucking-horse belt buckle.
He went down on his haunches beside the bed, putting their eyes at the same level, then took her hand. “Listen, Gin.” He grinned, his white teeth framed by the dark brown beard. “Isn’t that a harsh-sounding word for such a pretty woman?”
Oh, he shouldn’t smile at her. It was too distracting. And he’d called her pretty.
“Gin,” he said again. “You wanted to learn about BDSM. Came all the way here. True?”
Under his penetrating gaze, her chest turned as shivery as if she were inhaling tiny bubbles with each breath.
Stop melting and think. She put a chill into her voice to remind him of proper decorum—which didn’t include cabin visits to a woman in her nightwear.
“It may be true, but I do not believe my interests are your concern.”
An unexpected dimple appeared on his right cheek above his beard. “If you want to freeze me out, that accent of yours ruins the effect. It’s like listening to warm honey.”