“I think that’s enough, don’t you agree?” There was no amount that would be enough for her right now. And he knew it.

“Yes, Master.” She stared at the counter. Her lovely red hair fell in front of her shoulders and covered part of her face, making her look more demure and sweet. That sweetness was going to be the death of him. Or her.

Leo helped her off the stool and led her to the large mirror, then crossed to the chest of drawers beside the bed and pulled out a black T-shirt. He slipped it on because, while he enjoyed her discomfort at his state of partial undress, he enjoyed the power imbalance of himself clothed and his slave nude even more.

As comfortable as he was with his own nudity, there was vulnerability in it, and minimizing his vulnerability while maximizing hers was the goal of the evening. While one side of him wanted to make this about trust and bonding and some long-forgotten romantic ideal which society had hammered into him long enough that it should have taken, another part of him burned to take and use that which he’d acquired.

“Last chance to back out, Faith.” His better nature insisted he give her one more exit door.

If she took it and walked up those stairs, he might chase her down and take all her choices away. He wanted her to soothe his guilt by not saying no.

“And then what happens? We go back to how things were? You barely speaking to me? Those women coming over here? I told you, it hurts too much.”

He had to give her points for bravery and determination. They were qualities that had been mostly lacking in the other women he’d brought to his lair. After all, how much bravery was required to face what you got off on?

“Maybe you’re a bigger masochist than I thought,” he taunted. But she didn’t respond to the bait, she just watched the ground like a criminal waiting for sentence from some high and lofty monarch.

He took her by the hand and guided her to the mirror, then stood behind her and pulled the sweater over her head. As the fabric fell to the floor, her gaze followed it and stayed there.

“No. Watch.” He raised her chin to force her to look in the mirror. Even in the dim lighting he could see the flush on her cheeks that spread down her throat and over the tops of her breasts, exposed by the pale-green, lace demi-cup bra she wore.

He cupped the feminine mounds of flesh as her chest rose and fell. Her fear seeped into the air around them. She wouldn’t make it up the stairs if she tried to run, assuming she could pull out of his grasp.

Looking into her eyes, it was clear she’d calculated those risks and had chosen deep breathing exercises over any rash escape attempts. Smart girl. A predatory urge rose inside him and running would excite him more.