“Thank you, I think.”

“You’re welcome. I’m a cock connoisseur.”

Lance’s head fell back as he made another pass down and up again.

“What makes a cock gorgeous?”

“Hmm...” Nora tapped her chin. “Good size. Too big looks comical. Too small is, well, a bit disappointing. Although what women consider small and what men consider small are very different. We’re much more into girth than length, and you have very impressive girth.”

“Is that so?”

“Definitely. A pencil might be nine inches long, but you don’t want a pencil poking your cervix.”

“Good point.”

Nora bit back a laugh. “I can’t believe you made a pun while jacking off on my couch. Remind me to kill Kingsley the next time I see him. I want to fuck you so much right now it hurts.”

“That much?”

“I really like puns.”

Lance stroked again and Nora couldn’t stop staring at his hardening inches, at his roaming hand, at the veins in his strong arms, the flat plane of his stomach.

“I really like you,” Lance said, smiling through half-closed eyes.

“I like you, too,” she said, watching as his fingers teased the head. What she wouldn’t give to roll forward and lick that little drop of semen off the tip just to make him moan. “More than I want to.”

“You don’t want to like me?”

“Not as much as I do, no. I’m not one of those angst-ridden women who constantly worries about whether or not I’m doing the right thing, making the right choices, or God forbid, pissing someone off. I piss off more people before ten a.m. than most people do all day.”

“Good for you. That takes effort.”

“I’m a natural. But to be like me, to do the job I do, live the life I live...I need it to be complication-free. You, Lance, are a complication.”

“I’m a complication?”

“You could be. I’m a Dominatrix. So I’m not a prostitute, but let’s not quibble. I work in the sex trade. My clients don’t get to fuck me, but the kink is their version of sex. They take their clothes off, I whip their testicles, they come all over my nice rug which I have to get cleaned five times a week.”

“You might have to get your couch cleaned after I’m done,” he said with a wink.

“It’s my couch. Trust me, it’s Scotch-guarded. Keep rubbing.”

“I’m rubbing. So you’re a Dominatrix. I can live with that. Any other problems?”

“No problems.” She shook her head. “I said complications, not problems. Most of the professional Dominatrixes I know end up dating clients. There’s a lot of heat in those sessions. Husbands and boyfriends aren’t thrilled at the idea of having a wife or a girlfriend who spends a lot of time alone with naked, horny, kinky men.”

“I can see how that would be a complication. I can handle it, though.”

“Can you handle these?” She pointed to her back. “I’m a Switch, remember? You’re not. If and when I need or want pain or domination, I couldn’t get that from you, right?”