Light Switch (5 page)

We said little until we were in front of my building. There, we stopped, both looking at the pavement and lingering, our unsaid goodbyes keeping our feet planted. This was where we usually parted ways with something quick and casual. For some reason, that didn’t come and we didn’t move.

Finally, he spoke as he shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, um, do you want to come by tonight? Grab a movie, maybe a couple of drinks?”

I smiled. “I’d love to, but I’ve got plans tonight.”

Our eyes met.

Yes
, I wondered if he could see in my eyes,
those kinds of plans
.

He offered a shy smile. “Oh, okay, well, maybe another night.”

“Let me know when you’re free. I’m usually around.”

“Will do.”

We were both quiet for a moment, avoiding each other’s eyes.

He shifted his weight again. “Well, I guess I’d better let you go.”

“Okay,” I said. “I, um, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

He cocked his head. “Wednesday?”

“Poker night?”

“Right, right, of course.” He laughed, his cheeks darkening. “How could I forget? I’ll see you then, if not sooner.” And a little
more
color emphasized his
fuck, did I really just say that?
grimace.

I pretended not to notice. “Sounds good.”

The grimace turned to another shy smile. “Okay, well, have a good night.” He cringed. “A good day. Have a good day.”

I laughed. “You too.”

With murmured goodbyes, we went our separate ways. As I walked into my building, I smiled to myself. He may not have been watching last night, but I had no doubt he would be tonight.

When Scott arrived at a little past seven, I wore the blue satin robe as he’d ordered. I closed the front door behind him while he looked me up and down.

He stroked his chin as deep concentration lined his brow. “Just as I figured. It looks even better on you than it did on the hanger.”

“So you approve?”

The corner of his mouth curled up as he looked at me through his lashes. “Oh, yes, I approve.”

I smiled. We hadn’t yet moved back into dominant/submissive mode, but his approval or lack thereof still controlled the tightness of the knot in my stomach.

“Wine?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Red or white?”

“Red, of course.”

In the kitchen, I poured one glass. As I handed it to him, he cocked his head.

“You’re not having any?”

“Not tonight, no.”

He swirled his glass and grinned. “A lot of people are inclined to drink when they’re nervous. Yourself included.”

“You’re assuming I’m nervous.”

“I’m not assuming.” Without taking a drink, he set the glass down. “I know you are.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Aside from the fact that you’re venturing onto the kind of unfamiliar ground that would make any sane person nervous?” He raised an eyebrow. “And you have no idea what I have planned for tonight?”

I swallowed. “Yes, aside from that.”

“Your arms are folded so tight, you’re digging your fingers into your upper arms.” He gestured at me. “You don’t want to do that too long, or you’re going to leave marks. And the only one who’s allowed to leave marks tonight is me.”

I looked down. He was right. I uncrossed my arms and rested my hands on the counter.

“Very observant,” I said.

He smiled. “I have to be in tune to you. I need to know if you’re nervous, uncomfortable, upset. That’s part of being a Dom.”

“Is it?”

“Absolutely. I can’t be a mind reader, but I have no business asking you to submit to me if I can’t pick up enough on how you’re doing to keep you from freaking out.”

I swallowed again, this time with more effort. “Is that something that happens a lot?”

“Not with my subs, it doesn’t.” He paused. “I mean, it can, and it has, but I owe it to my subs—
all
of my subs—to do everything I can to keep things from getting to that point.”

“Good to know.”

He picked up the glass and swirled the wine again, watching the untouched red liquid for a moment before looking at me. “So, I know you’re nervous, but are you still comfortable with this?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “It’s new, but it’s not making me uncomfortable. I trust you.”

Scott smiled. “Good. Well, with that in mind”—he gestured down the hall with his glass—“shall we?”

I said nothing, just nodded and started toward the bedroom. In the mirror in the hallway, I caught him looking at my legs. The robe fell just far enough down the backs of my thighs to skirt the very limits of modesty, leaving little to the imagination. I didn’t say a word, though. I just smiled to myself and kept walking.

I closed the bedroom door behind him, and as I did, he said, “I assume you’re still okay with the window shade being up?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the window. Matt’s lights were off. Maybe he was there, maybe he wasn’t. If he was, all he had to do was look.

I turned back to Scott. “The shade’s fine.”

There was a question in his eyes, in the way they flicked toward the window and back to me, but he didn’t give voice to it. Instead, he sipped his wine and set the glass on the nightstand. He unbuttoned his left sleeve and rolled it to his elbow. Once it was neatly in place and he was apparently satisfied with it, he moved to the right. With both sleeves rolled, he reached for his wine again.

He watched me over the rim of the glass as he took another sip. The glass clinked on the nightstand again, and when Scott looked up, his expression had shifted. His lips formed a tight, thin line, and his eyes narrowed just enough to make my heart jump. From friend to Sir in seconds.

I held my breath, waiting for his command.

“You remember your safe words?” His tone was flat, devoid of the warm friendliness with which he’d spoken earlier.

“Yes.”

He arched his eyebrow.

“Yes, Sir,” I corrected.

“Tell me what they are.”

“Red if I want to stop completely,” I said. “Yellow if I want to slow down, Sir.”

A single nod told me he was pleased with my answer. Looking me up and down, he walked toward me. Then past me. Around me. Goose bumps rose beneath the thin layer of satin. I wanted to shy away from his scrutiny. I wanted to seek out his approval. I could do nothing but stay still and silent.

He walked around me again. Behind me, he stopped.

“Untie the belt.”

With unsteady hands, I obeyed. When the knot was undone, I let the loose ends of the belt drop to my sides. The front of the robe fell open, and cool air met the ribbon of exposed skin.

A single fingertip trailed down the center of my spine until it hooked on the back of the belt. Slowly, he pulled it back. Satin hissed across satin as the twin ends rose beside my hips before slipping out of the loops. The robe fell further apart. If Matt looked now, he’d be able to see the thin strips of black lace that passed for my bra and panties. My mouth watered.
Look, Matt, please look
.

Scott’s voice brought me back to the present. “Tonight, I’m controlling everything you see, everything you feel.”

“You control the horizontal and the vertical?” The joke was out before I realized I was speaking, and when Scott cleared his throat, a chill ran right through me. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

He was quiet for a long, nerve-wracking moment. Panic coiled itself around my spine. I wanted to apologize again, but his silence didn’t invite me to speak.

Finally, he went on. “I’m controlling all of your senses tonight. Starting with your sight.” There was movement behind me, and a second later, he lowered the blue satin belt over my eyes. He wrapped it around and tied it snugly. Flecks of light still peeked through the bottom of it, but I was, for all intents and purposes, blind.

“Is that too tight?” he asked.

“No, Sir.”

“Face me.”

I did. For the longest time, he was still and silent. I waited. I was not permitted to move or speak, to seek him out or draw away from him, so I simply waited.

Warm, gentle contact with my cheek made me jump and suck in a breath. His hand didn’t move.

“Did I startle you?” he asked.

I hesitated.

“Answer me quickly and truthfully, Kristen. Did I startle you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Am I making you nervous?”

I released a breath. “No, Sir.”

“You’ve given up your sight to me.” His fingers traced the edge of my jaw before continuing down the side of my neck. “Do you trust me not to take advantage of that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His thumb extended across the front of my throat, a gesture that would have doubled my pulse had it been anyone else. I swallowed hard, the subtle ripple against his hand making me even more aware of his gentle hold on my neck.

“
I won’t choke you
,” he’d said last night. “
I might put a hand on your throat to restrain you, if you’re comfortable with that, but anything that cuts off blood or air flow? No way
.”

Even without those words seared in my memory, I knew he wouldn’t tighten his grasp. There would be no more pressure than was needed to let me know his hand was there. It was a touch, not a threat.

In a low, gentle voice, he said, “Do you trust me not to harm you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I said without a second thought.

“Good. I demand respect and submission, not fear. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

His hand moved down until his fingertips paused at the hollow of my throat. They followed the ridges of my collarbone, hooking on my robe and pushing it aside until it slid off my shoulder and partway down my arm. Then he did the same to the other side, and I held my breath as he my robe fell into a pool of cool, discarded fabric around my bare feet.

I shivered. The room was warm, but the exposure created a chill beneath my skin. Thrilling, but unnerving.

“Take everything else off.”

I did so without question. My panties landed on top of my robe. A second later, my bra. Between the cool air touching my skin and the exhilaration flooding my veins within, my nipples hardened almost instantly. Being naked in front of Scott was… hot. Unnerving. Thrilling.

“Unbutton my shirt,” he said.

I raised my hand and reached for his shirt, then realized I didn’t know how close he was. I didn’t think he’d like me pawing at him until I found a seam to guide me to the buttons, so I withdrew my hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I—” I hesitated, drawing an unsteady breath. I wasn’t sure if I should ask. If I’d be out of line.

“Kristen?”

Well, if I’m going to push boundaries and make mistakes, might as well do it now while he’s still patient
. “Will you guide my hands, Sir?”

He said nothing. His fingers closed around my wrists, and warm relief rushed through me when he laid my hands on his lapels.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered. I started on the first button.

Without my sight, this simple task took on a whole different sensory dimension. The almost imperceptible hiss of my fingers across fabric. The near silent
pop
when a particularly stubborn button finally cooperated. The slow, steady rhythm of his quiet breathing, a rhythm I caught myself mirroring.

As I untucked his shirt from his jeans, I wondered if he was hard like he’d been last night when I’d done this very thing. There wasn’t quite enough space under my blindfold to sneak a look, and though it was tempting, I dared not brush my hand over the front of his jeans.

When he told me to, I pushed his shirt over his shoulders just as he’d done with my robe, and my fingers encountered hot skin. No T-shirt underneath this time, no other layer of fabric to keep me from touching him. Imagining his bare torso in front of me, I tried—not very successfully—to breathe. In my mind’s eye, I saw the tattoos running down his sides. I couldn’t remember exactly what each character looked like, but I filled in the memory as best I could, curling my fingers into loose fists as I fought the temptation to touch him.

“Take a step back,” he ordered. When I did, he followed and repeated the order. We kept moving like this—my steps at his command—until my calf bumped my bed.

“Sit, then swing your legs up on to the bed.”

I did, feeling around to make sure I wasn’t too close to the edge.

He ran his fingers through my hair, his hand stopping at the back of my neck. “Lie back.” He kept his hand there as I obeyed his order, the gentle support guiding me down until my head landed softly on the pillow, assuring me I would neither fall nor hit anything. The comforter was cool against my skin, softly emphasizing I was naked from head to toe.

“I’m going to move away from you for a minute,” he said. “I’m not leaving you, and I won’t leave the room, but I’ll be out of your reach. Are you okay with that?”

I gave him my affirmative, and his hand slipped out from under my neck. Though his footsteps were nearly silent and my vision was still obscured by blue satin, I had no trouble following his movements. Around the foot of the bed. To the other side of the bed. The mattress accommodating weight as he joined me on the bed.

Then he was beside me. Lying on his side, I guessed. Hot skin brushed my arm and denim brushed my bare thigh, the contradiction of flesh and fabric emphasizing that he was still partly dressed, but partly
un
dressed as well. His abs, his shoulders, and his tattoos, they were all uncovered beside me, visible to anyone not blinded as I was. I wanted to beg him to restore my sight, if only so I could see his body.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Because we’re going to be like this for a while.” He shifted slightly. “Now, a lot of people think kink is all about pain. And pain is fun, but it’s not the only sensation we can play with. It can be ticklish.” He trailed a barely there fingertip up my side, laughing softly when I squirmed. “It can be hot or cold.” He blew a cool breath across my nipple. “Or, it can be nothing at all.” He broke all contact and went completely quiet.

Long seconds ticked by.

He was so still and silent, I didn’t even think he was breathing.

More seconds. More heartbeats. More silence.

At last, he let out a breath, the rush of air warming my skin. In the same moment, I released the breath I’d been holding the whole time, having waited for his implicit permission to exhale.