The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel Read Online Free Page B

scrutiny was interrupted by the doorbell.   Nervous, I wobbled to the door and peered through the peep hole.   It was Mitch.  
    Shit!   Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!  
    What the hell was he doing here tonight of all nights?   I had waited weeks for that bastard to show up and he chose the worst possible moment to do it.   That was so like him!
    “Mitch,” I said through the door, “I can’t see you tonight.   Could you come over another time?”
    “Why, you cheating on me or something?”
    I rolled my eyes at the closed door.   He was one to talk!   Mitch and I had an arrangement.   His girlfriend was bisexual, which meant she slept with other women—women who weren’t into men, so no X-rated threesomes for Mitch—and in turn meant that he was entitled to see other women as well.   I was one of those other women.   Mitch was gorgeous, the quintessential playboy, the town’s blue-eyed heartbreaker.   Northampton had a shortage of available straight men, and Mitch took full advantage of that.   He even chronicled his sexual exploits in a local newspaper.   I once wondered why he’d bothered to see me at all when he had so many options.
    “You’re a great fuck,” had been his poetic response.
    “No, Mitch, it’s just not…convenient,” I insisted.   “I have an important meeting tonight and I’m getting ready.   Come see me another time.”
    He was silent for a moment, then, “You up for a quickie?   I’ll be in and out in five—”
    “No!”   Damn it!   How come men never know when they’re not wanted?   Are they really that self-absorbed?   Do they all think they’re God’s gift to women or something?   Well, Mitch certainly thought he was.   He wouldn’t see me for weeks, but when he finally deigned to pay me a visit he’d stay for hours, sometimes days, and I often had to sigh and glance at the clock repeatedly before he got the hint.   I hoped I could ditch him as quickly as possible this time.   “I really have no time for this, Mitch,” I hissed.   “Go see someone else tonight.”
    I heard him let out a defeated sigh.   “Look, I was hoping we could talk after we fucked.   Mel dumped me and I’m pretty bummed out about it.”
    Oh.   So his girlfriend finally ditched him, huh?   I wondered why he sounded so devastated with the news.   Didn’t he have literally, like, dozens of women on his beck and call?
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, “but we’ll have to talk about it some other time.   Let’s meet up for coffee tomorrow morning, how’s that?”
    He sighed again.   He was quite the little drama queen when he wanted to be.   “Fine.   I’ll call you.”
    Phew!   That was easy!   I was home free.   I had time to make some finishing touches on my appearance before I left for my tryst.   I was brushing my hair when the phone rang.
    “My driver will be there to collect you in precisely five minutes,” said a sexy baritone with a velvety English accent.   The rich, seductive lilt in his voice made me warm and tingly all over.   It amazed me what this man could do to me by simply talking.
    “Your driver?   I thought you wanted me to walk up to your place.”
    “What made you think that?”
    “You gave me a card with your home address and told me to meet you there.”
    A confused silence met my ears.   “Well, you won’t have to.   My driver is on his way.”
    Huh.   He was forgetful.   Typical writer.   And he had a driver?   Who did he think he was, Donald Trump?   “All right,” I replied.  
    “You’re wearing everything you found in the bag?”
    “Yes.”
    “Any problems with the items?”
    “I had a difficult time putting on the dress.   It’s very tight.”
    “It’s supposed to be tight.   It’s to accentuate that gorgeous body of yours.   I can’t wait to see you in it.”  
    I shivered at his words.
    “When my driver drops you off,” he continued, “use the side door to my house, not the front