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An Excerpt From: What She Wants

Copyright © CRIS ANSON, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Omigod, Delia! How did you get your black eye?”

The blonde responded, “I didn’t say ‘Yes Master’ fast enough.”

Gales of laughter followed that retort, and Kurt realized he’d heard that comment more than once in the past ten minutes.

That was enough to piss him off.

Slapping his untasted beer back down on the bar, he slid off his seat and in two long strides stood behind her. “Then perhaps you need a new Master.”

All sound in the group ceased. The blonde swiveled her head, her tresses swaying like a shampoo commercial. Their eyes locked. He all but fell into her wide blue ones.

And he knew he was in trouble.

* * * * *

Delia turned to glare at the man who had intruded on her reunion with folks she’d only met online, but one look at him—in a dove-gray dress shirt with sleeves rolled up, no tie, and tailored black slacks— made her think, Uh-oh, I’m in trouble here.

About six feet of hunkalicious man stared back at her, all thunder and storm swirling in amber eyes that all but immobilized her. His mouth was a thin line of disapproval and his black brows echoed the line and the sentiment. Even the nose, slightly askew, probably from a badly healed fracture, added to the air of danger surrounding him.

Hair as black as the devil’s heart scraped back into a short ponytail except for a wayward swath down his forehead could not soften the severity of his gaze, yet Delia felt only electricity zinging between them. It was an uncomfortable feeling, a cross between a butterfly pinned to a specimen board and a ripe peach waiting to be sucked.

Then his expression softened as his gaze took in the bright reddish-purple of her bruise. He lifted a long-fingered hand to her face but did not touch her. “A slave of your beauty and delicacy should be treated with reverence. May I show you how a true Master treats his property?”

Delia’s tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth. This hunk was calling her a beauty? Calling her delicate? Ye gods, was he a real-life Dom? Sure, Delia had read all about D/s relationships. Heck, BDSM was an erotic romance author’s stock in trade. But actually be a slave? She was in waaaay over her head here.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know the first thing about the Master/slave bond, do you.”

It didn’t sound like a question, because Delia was sure he already knew the answer.

“You are an erotic romance…reader? Writer?”

“She’s a published author,” Judith chimed in. “Her first book just came out and you can buy it this weekend at the book fair. Her name is Delia Barnes. And you’re right, she’s unfamiliar with that lifestyle.”

If Delia had held a gun in her hands, Judith’s lifeblood would be flowing out of her belly right about now. She flashed a silent warning to her critique partner, who blithely ignored her as she smiled up at him from her five-foot-nothing height.

“And you are…?”

The man had the temerity to bow like an eighteenth century courtier. “Master Kurt, at your service.”

“Well, Master Kurt, are you staying at this hotel?” Judith’s question. Delia vowed to add poison to Judith’s next pomegranate martini.

“I am.”

“Then perhaps you’ll find a few minutes to explain some basics to Delia here.”

Master Kurt turned to Delia. “It would be my pleasure.” His gaze skittered past her and his eyes gave some kind of signal, but Delia would be damned if she’d turn around and check out what he was doing.

“Delia Barnes.” His deep voice purring her name stroked her down to her toes. She couldn’t deny that his voice, his stare, his commanding presence had already started the cream flowing between her legs. She’d need more than a snorkel, she’d need full scuba gear if he kept that up.

“Delia, I am going to give you your first lesson in being a proper slave.” Gently placing his long fingers on her shoulders, he turned her around then leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, “See that booth at the very end of the bar? A friend of mine has reserved it for us. Go to the booth and slide in opposite him, facing me. Then, and this is important, Delia, you must obey me when I ask you to do this.”

His palm cradled her cheek as he turned her head toward him. Their lips almost met. ”Do you understand?”

“Yes.” It came out no more than a whisper, for his warm breath on her skin was like a lover’s caress that weakened her knees.

“This is what I am asking you to do. Once you sit down, you will reach under your skirt and slip off your panties. No, do not stiffen your shoulders when your Master speaks to you. A slave obeys her Master for the sheer pleasure of pleasing him. Do you understand that?”

Delia swallowed hard and nodded. Her throat was too clogged to speak even in a whisper. Was she actually going to obey this stranger?

He looked way younger than she. But…why not? She’d been widowed four years, and now that her son was a college junior, she’d vowed to make time for herself, her own pleasures. And, heck, cougars were in vogue now, both in romance novels and in real life. She could do this, follow his orders.

For now, anyway. It wasn’t like he’d asked her to jump into his roadster and visit his private, secluded dungeon. There were dozens of people around and her friends would stand by to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Hell, they were already encouraging her with their eyes and their smiles.

She made a move to go when he added, “Once you remove your panties, fold them up and place them in the center of the booth where my friend can see them. I’ll join you soon.”