Dominating Amy Read Online Free

wardrobe. The straps and buckles, stockings and cupless bras that peeked from amidst an array of role-play costumes exposed rather than concealed. Amy eyed the assortment of fetish wear, trying and failing to picture herself in even the tamest French maid get-up. Maybe if she found something modest, Mac would calm down a little.
    God, this was such a mistake. Any minute now, Mac would walk out and she’d get home to find him gone forever. Maybe she should call it off, run out to the office and tear up the release paperwork, call her agent and cancel the job. Gripping the top edge of a straight back chair upon which the photographer or his assistant had dropped a short dressing gown for her comfort, she willed her knees to stop shaking. She’d had to remove her wedding ring for the pictures, but the white band around her finger reminded her well enough where her priorities lay. She couldn’t back out. This was the only way she knew to show Mac what she wanted. If she called it off now, she wouldn’t have another chance.
    She dug deep for strength and headed for the costume rack. Mac moved into the opposite corner of the studio.
    She positioned the rack at an angle and edged behind it to unbutton her sweater. The short rack left her shoulders and upper chest visible over the hanger hooks and she could see Mac clearly over the walls of the cubicle dividers. He stared at her, lips drawn in a tight line. Startled by the direct eye contact, she looked away.  The first costume she grabbed was a shimmery mermaid thing. She flipped it over her head and emerged a moment later in a shell bra and an iridescent skirt that didn’t reach her thighs.
     "Which set?" She directed the question to Christophe, who was sorting through camera lenses. He lifted his head and frowned.
    "Costumes are for another shoot. I need you to work with accessories today. Start with the strap-on harnesses."
    Heat suffused her cheeks. This was hell, and she'd chosen it for herself with a ridiculous scheme to win back her husband by appealing to his libido and macho sensibilities instead of just talking to him. Disgusted with herself and avoiding Mac's gaze, she yanked the little green and pink costume over her head, and snatched up a tangle of black leather and steel buckles. A heavy pink dildo, obscenely long and designed specifically for wearing with a harness, dangled from the crotch ring.
    Amy hid behind the costume rack. Buckles and grommets clinked against one another. Her untrained hands made a mess of the interconnected bits of leather. Whole minutes ticked away. The photographer flashed light from different angles, preparing his set. She caught him darting an impatient glance in her direction and frustrated tears pricked the backs of her eyelids.
    “Stupid and impossible,” she mumbled beneath her breath, struggling to disengage her wrist from the snaky leather.
    “Hold still.” Mac, suddenly standing at her elbow, took over. He pulled the harness from her hands and deftly shook it into submission.  “Step in,” he instructed, bending and holding it low so she could slip her feet through the loops.
    She hesitated. He had lowered his head and angled his face away from her. She couldn’t even see the set of his mouth. His tone was too neutral, too flat, for her to pull any meaning from it. He’d made himself deliberately unreadable.
    “You don’t have to stay,” she whispered.
    Mac tensed. “Yes, I do. Step in.” A growl lurked beneath his even words.
    Amy clutched the shoulder of his jacket and stepped into the leather circles he held stretched between his hands. He pulled the harness up roughly, adjusted the length of the leg straps and tightened the waist buckle to fit around her hips. Cold metal nestled below her navel.
    “Fix this.” Mac tapped the bulbous head of the dildo that jutted away from her abdomen. She gripped his shoulder harder but he shrugged free and retreated to a corner of the conference room turned