“Yes, it turns me on, but how did you know, Ivan?” I managed to ask. I needed to know if I had a sign and arrows painted on my forehead. Flashing neon? >>>SEXUAL SUBMISSIVE<<<

My question stopped the kisses as he stared down at me. The intense look I was beginning to recognize was back. The rest of his fingers moved forward to take my neck in a possessive hold. “I didn’t for certain, but I dearly hoped it was true. The clues were there during our first encounter at The National Gallery. The way you were in my arms when I made you come in that storeroom… Christ, Gabrielle.” He licked his lips and his eyes flared. “You were perfectly submissive with me and I couldn’t get you out of my head ever since that night. I thought about you for days and days. I wanted to see you again, but you disappeared and all I had to go on was ‘Maria’ wearing the green dress.” His fingers left my neck, sliding down my arm to take my hand. He clasped it firmly and drew my arm up over my head with a sharp tug. My other arm got the same treatment until he had both wrists in his grip and me pinned below him. “I want you in that green dress again, too, because I definitely need a do-over of that night with you, Gabrielle.”

“All right, we can do another date,” I agreed quickly. His masterful dominance had me panting now and remembering all too well how he’d made me feel when he looked me over admiringly the first time—just as he was doing right now. Ivan knew how to make it feel so, so good.

“The way you surrendered to me when I touched you, the sounds coming out of your mouth when you came.” He stared intently at my lips before dragging his tongue over them slowly. “How you gracefully dropped to your knees prepared to suck me off like you wanted to do it.”

“I did want to,” I whispered, feeling myself flush with heat as he retold our first encounter.

“I know. I knew it then.” His eyes flickered down at me, so beautifully green and deep as he studied me. “God, you’re so… fucking sexy.”

“You are too,” I said shyly, “and I still can’t believe what I did with you—a total stranger.” And even now when recalling what I’d done with Ivan at The National Gallery that night, I was filled with shame at my weakness. Why did he affect me so? One look, one touch, one command, and I turned to putty in his hands. It had to be uniquely him I was certain.

“You’ve said that before, Gabrielle, and I hear you. I do. But honestly, I don’t want you having shameful feelings about what we did together that night. In fact, I don’t accept the idea at all. You did nothing wrong, kitten. Everything you did that night was perfect… to me. That’s why it happened the way it did with us. Don’t you see?” He pressed yet another erection into the side of my hip, and I had to give him props for stamina. The man was the mortal embodiment of a Greek god—an Eros—with a really big cock, which just kept going and going—“You felt comfortable with me that night… and we clicked, Gabrielle.”