It wasn’t my role to instigate this.

But my experience was, if I wanted to play, I went out and found someone who also wanted to play, so the guesswork of me being in the mood to play was unnecessary.

I didn’t know how that went when your man was your Dom.

But we were going to see.

And how we were going to see was me walking out of the bathroom in a super-tight, plaid pencil skirt that hit me about three inches above the knee, a cap-sleeved white blouse, buttoned all the way up to the throat, my hair pulled up in a sexy-school-marm bun, clear-lensed black-rimmed glasses on my nose, and four-inch, spike-heeled, patent-red pumps on my feet.

I could hear some sort of kitchen apparatus whirring.

Boone had changed from work outfit of cargos, boots, and skintight tee to home outfit of jeans, a more worn skintight tee, and at a guess from experience, bare feet.

He was doing something at the counter, but when he heard the bathroom door open, his head came up, his gaze locked on me, and his body stilled entirely.

I walked efficiently to him, my heels ticking on his wood floors.

He turned only his head to watch as I came to his side.

I stood there and said reprovingly, “Mr. Sadler, we need to talk about your grades.”

Boone stared at me.

I stared back, my heart pounding.

Boone stared at me more.

Okay, shit.

So, answer: not my place to instigate.

Then I was bent over the counter, one of Boone’s hands in my back, the other one going up my skirt.

Oh yeah.

It was a tight fit, but he was clearly determined and managed to get his hand between my legs and run his fingers through the swollen lips of my pussy.

“Wet,” he whispered.

He flicked my clit.

My hips jerked.

Obviously, I wasn’t wearing underwear.

Bad teacher.

“Kathryn, this isn’t the way we do things,” he growled.

Uh-oh.

Maybe I read his reaction wrong.

He stroked my clit.

But that felt really right.

“Teacher’s gonna get a lesson,” he murmured.

Yes.

My legs started trembling.

“Stay where you are,” Boone ordered before he took his hand off my back, his other from between my legs, and then my skirt was yanked forcefully up over my hips.

I thought I heard it tear.

I definitely heard my whimper.

Boone ran a hand over my ass.

“Unless I tell you to keep your legs tight, you open for me, Kathryn,” Boone instructed.

I opened my legs.

He slid his hand back between and cupped my sex.

I held still and waited.

He didn’t move.

I held still and waited some more.

He slid his hand back, and quick as a flash, it landed on my ass with a delicious sting, making my hips jerk and my legs lock.

I closed my eyes slowly.

Yes.

Let the lesson begin.

* * *

We were in bed.

I was reverse cowgirl, leashed, the silk wrapped around Boone’s fist, and he’d just finished guiding me riding him to the orgasm he let me have, and continue riding him to his.

He’d spanked me bent over the counter.

Then he’d lifted me on it, shoving me down to my back, and eaten me on it.

Not allowing me to come, he’d taken me to bed, my skirt was gone, my blouse too, my glasses were long gone, the lacy demi-cup bra I was wearing was yanked under my tits, and the pumps remained in place on my feet.

And the road to where we were right then was long, and in the end, immensely gratifying.

With tugs on my leash, I rode him gently before I felt his grip firm in a manner I knew he wanted me to stop and do it full of him.

I did.

He drifted his free hand over the small of my back, ass, hips, up my spine before he murmured, “Climb off, Kathryn.”

He loosened his grip on the scarf and I climbed off.

He sat up and ordered, “Face me and straddle.”

I moved astride him.

He looked me over, eventually lifting my tit at the underside where the bra was bunched, bending his head to it and sucking my nipple into his mouth.

I mewed and my thighs spasmed against his hips.

He let my nipple go and tipped his head back to look at me.

“Way fuckin’ better than Mrs. Steiner.”

I smiled at him.

He pulled the scarf to the front, tugged it, and I bent my face to his.

He lifted his other hand and filtered it through my hair, holding me at the back of my head.

“You’re gonna wait for me to make you dinner, then you’re gonna eat pizza naked and collared, then we’re gonna see how you do tied up, baby.”

Wednesday night fuck-a-thon.

Yippee!

“Okay, Boone,” I whispered.

His eyes moved over my face and he muttered like I wasn’t there, “And you don’t think you’re a dream?”

“I give good sub,” I bragged flippantly.

Boone caught my eyes. “You give good everything, Ryn. I didn’t even know I’d been harboring that fantasy until you walked out of the bathroom. Then you walked out of that bathroom and I thought my dick was gonna explode.”

Nice.

“I think we need to talk about all the various things you never got to do as a young buck Dom, thinking you’re a freak and holding the urges at bay,” I suggested.

“We are absolutely going to do that.”

I smiled at him again.

He tugged on me again and brushed his lips against mine.

When he gave me slack, allowing me to pull away, he said, “Clean you up and see to dinner. Dough’s probably pushed open the door of the machine by now.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t care if the dough was ruined and we had to order pizza (though I figured Boone’s homemade stuff was the bomb).

I just wanted him to have sustenance so he had the energy to rock my world.

Again.

“All right,” I agreed, though that was unnecessary.

“Climb off, lie on your side, baby. Leg hitched,” he commanded.

I obeyed.

Boone cleaned me.

Boone made pizza while I watched from this same position in the bed.

Boone made me get on my knees and take a face fucking while it was baking.

But I didn’t eat the pizza naked in his bed.

I still had my bra and shoes on.

And Boone fed me.

Then he tied me up.

And yeah, I already knew it was going to be.

But it was a dream.

* * *

A phone ringing woke us both up.

Boone shifted, muttered, “Mine,” meaning it was his phone, and I settled back in, half on him, half plastered down his side.

Then Boone took hold of the tail of the scarf and lazily stroked it, at the same time stroking down my back, as he greeted casually, “Hey, Dad.”

I shot up to sitting and nearly choked myself.

Boone gave me a part-surprised, mostly-worried look as he let go of the scarf at my back.

“Hang on,” he said to his father. “You okay?” he asked me.

I was not.

Boone was stroking my leash while answering a call from his beloved dad.

“Yes,” I lied.

He put pressure on my back to make me lie on him again and then returned to his dad. “What’s up?” Then, “That was Ryn.”