What She Needs - Lacey Alexander [130]
“I only came because I thought you were watching me. If I’d known you weren’t, I would have declined everything beyond the regular massage. I was only into it because . . . I thought I was sharing it with you.”
Brent pulled in his breath, let it back out. She couldn’t read his face. “It’s my responsibility, at this point, Jenna, to . . . prepare you for sex without me. Surely you can see the logic in that.”
Jenna blinked, sighed, feeling sad. Sure, she could see the logic. But what she mainly saw was that nothing had really changed for her here, after all—she still couldn’t have casual sex. Somehow Brent had made everything feel intimate, like a connection, something deep and emotional as well as physical.
When she didn’t reply, he went on. “You’ve had sex with lots of people here. Why is what happened today so different?”
But Jenna simply shook her head in response. “No, I haven’t,” she explained. “I haven’t really had sex with anyone but you.”
“What?” He didn’t get it.
And she was determined to make him understand. “I’ve had sex you’ve ordained. I’ve had sex you’ve orchestrated and demanded and urged and encouraged. I’ve had sex with you physically, and sex with you mentally when you were there watching. It all felt like having sex with you. All of it. But today was the first time I really had sex here without you.”
Brent sat down on the leather sofa, ran his hands back through his hair. It was small comfort that his reply came out sounding guilty. “Jenna, I thought you needed today’s fantasy. I’m sorry, but it’s what seemed best to me.”
“I’m so tired of hearing what you think I need,” she told him, not so much angry now as exasperated, weary. “The fact is, you needed this fantasy—not me. You needed to . . . start erecting walls between us. So you wouldn’t care so much about me. So you won’t miss me when I’m gone.”
“I just did what I thought made sense,” he replied calmly.
The non-response sliced through Jenna’s chest like a knife. “Well, screw you,” she said, full-blown anger returning. “I don’t want any more of your stupid fantasies! I’m done with this place—I’m going home!”
She turned to go, only to hear him say, “Wait.”
Looking back, she saw that he’d pushed to his feet and moved toward her.
“You have the power now,” he said gently.
“What?”
“No more submission for you—now you’re the powerful woman in control.”
“Damn right I am—and I choose to go home.”
“No, Jenna,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t you want more mind-opening experiences here? What happened just now was only one fantasy—I wasn’t planning on backing out of your fantasies for good. Don’t you want to know what else I’ve got planned for you?”
Oh God, did he think it was that easy? That he could lure her back under his spell with offers of more sex? “No,” she answered simply.
“I wanted to make you into a powerful Tudor noblewoman,” he went on, “who chooses which of her peasants must pleasure her. I wanted to take you to the Wild West and make you a powerful, in-demand saloon girl who can choose any man she wants. I wanted to take you back to the dungeon, Jenna, but this time you’d be the dominatrix, calling the shots.” He offered up a weak, pleading smile. “You can punish me this time, and I’m guessing right about now that sounds good to you.”
“No,” she said again, adding some bite to the word.
“Then what about a beach fantasy?” he asked, speaking more softly. “Something sexy, simple, like you put on your questionnaire. I’d love to give that to you, Jenna.”
Oh, hell. But . . . “No,” she said once more, even if that one held an enormous amount of appeal.
And yet he still didn’t give up. “Jenna,” he whispered, reaching out to take her hand, “why don’t you tell me about the massage fantasy—tell me everything that happened. Then it’ll be like I was there with you. I would love for you to tell me.”
Wow, part of Jenna was tempted. She knew it would excite him to hear about her encounter with Courtney. And they would start kissing, and touching—and she’d get to have him inside her again, the most glorious feeling she could imagine.
Maybe