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  Forget breathing—Liza never wanted to stop hearing that desperately worshipful tone in Dominic’s voice. She ground her thighs together, trying to get enough pressure on her throbbing clit to give herself the orgasm that was eluding her. By the time Dominic withdrew his cock this time, her eyes were filling with tears, her mouth overflowing with spit and precome—and she knew that the best thing she could do for him was let him see everything she was feeling.

  So when he began to chant, “Look at me, look at me, look at me,” she widened her eyes, glued her gaze to his, and whimpered.

  “Ah!” he cried out, shoving himself back into her mouth for a last, frantic face-fuck as Liza finally, finally squeezed her clit at just the right angle. Sensation exploded outward from her pussy and vibrated all the way up to her throat, where she screamed around Dominic’s cock.

  After a final harsh thrust, Dominic yanked himself back and aimed the head of his cock at Liza’s mouth, jacking himself furiously with the hand not holding her head in a vise grip. In seconds, he was shouting, spraying hot come across Liza’s face. She slammed her eyes closed and felt the lash of semen painting her cheeks and lips even as she shook and trembled in the throes of her own orgasm.

  Groaning and muttering incoherently, Dominic slid the head of his cock into the wet trail of come, tracing it around the planes of her face in slow, hypnotic circles. As it passed her lips, Liza flicked out her tongue, swiping it through the tiny slit at the tip of his cock.

  His knees buckled, and Dominic collapsed, taking her with him to the ground, where they lay panting and shaking against one another, sweaty and sloppy and half-blind.

  Liza lost track of how long they stayed that way, aware that her arms were starting to ache from their bound position but unable to form coherent words. Fortunately, Dominic managed to rally long enough to flop over onto his side. “Damn,” he said, spying her come-smeared skin. “Hang on.”

  He adjusted his pants with shaky hands and stumbled out to the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp towel. With gentle strokes, he began to clean her face.

  Drowsing under his ministrations, Liza gestured with her bound hands, and he reached over her to free her wrists from where the mask had twisted around them, rubbing her skin for a minute before he lowered himself back down at her side.

  When she felt his fingertips stroking over her cheekbone, Liza let her eyes flutter open to see Dominic watching her, his chest still rising and falling in double time. He looked more than a little stunned, so she made the effort to clear her throat and managed a crooked grin.

  “Hey there,” she rasped. “Okay?”

  “Are you?”

  “Me?” Her laugh was throaty and rough—Dominic flinched, but Liza reached up to cup his jaw. “I’m wonderful,” she admitted. “That was fucking fantastic.”

  “It was?” He still seemed unsure, despite the fact that she’d come like a volcano, exploding almost from his words and actions alone.

  “You’re amazing—I couldn’t have scripted it any better. More importantly, how do you feel?”

  “I’m... I’ve never... I didn’t know. I didn’t know it could be like that—that it would get you off, too. You did come, right?”

  “Oh, Dom.” Liza laughed again and wrapped her arms around him. “That one makes the Top Five list, easy.”

  She felt his arms slide around her shoulder in response, tightening when she snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. “Oh, wow. Thank you.”

  “I should be thanking you,” she murmured. “If I could just clone you, my life would be perfect.”

  Oh, shit. Even as she said it, she felt Dominic tense, and she wanted to smack herself upside the head.

  Forcing a lighthearted grin, Liza pushed herself up, disentangling their limbs so she could cast around for her discarded dress. “Why don’t we go ahead and get ourselves together here? It’s late, and we can talk more when you’ve had some time to process.” She scrambled into her dress, thankful that wrinkles were the worst of its problems, and collected her discarded mask, turning her back to present her open zipper. “Do me?”

  Phrasing, Liza, Jesus. But Dominic moved up behind her and slid the zipper of her dress up her back.

  “Ready?” Her voice was too loud, too bright against the palpably charged air between them, but she’d already shoved her stiletto into her mouth once, and she was desperate to quit the room before she did something extra, extra stupid, like throw herself at Dominic and kiss him like her life depended on it.

  She forced herself to turn around. He stood, just watching her, but she held out her hand in invitation. After a brief hesitation, he took it, allowing her to lead him down the hall toward the front of the house.

  “Can I call you a cab?” she asked him, recognizing that he may not have thought this far ahead.

  “No,” he said. “I think I’d like to walk for a bit, and then I’ll hail a ride when I’m ready.”

  “All right,” Liza said, struggling to keep her smile easy and her voice even. “Get home safe. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Good night, Liza.”

  “Good night.”

  He exited the house, closing the door behind him, and Liza had to force herself not to watch him out the window as he walked away into the night.

  Chapter Nine

  Liza was still furious with herself as she logged in to her email the next morning. She’d spent half the night pacing her kitchen, trying to decide just how badly she’d screwed up. It had been a mistake to bring a client somewhere that intersected with her personal life. It had blurred the boundaries, and she’d lost track of her professional detachment as a result.

  Worse, she hadn’t been exaggerating—Dominic had the uncanny ability to trip every one of her switches, something she’d been seeking in a partner for so long that she’d almost given up on the idea that finding him was possible. She’d played with, fucked and even dated many men over the years who’d shared her brand of kink, but no one had come close to the unspoken, intuitive chemistry that her encounters with Dominic possessed.

  And hell—the scene itself had been phenomenal. He’d committed completely and even been able to improvise. She was impressed with his willingness to play and to take advantage of the opportunity—not many of her clients could make such quick progress in such a limited time frame. Dominic was freaking one of a kind.

  Now she had to cross her fingers and hope she hadn’t fucked up his momentum or made him too uncomfortable to continue. She tapped her inbox and started cataloging her new emails, pausing when she saw a new message from Dr. Cooper.

  Hello Liza,

  I just wanted to check in and see how things are progressing with Dominic La Sera. He’s been a little withdrawn in session, especially when it comes to discussing his work with you. When we last spoke, you mentioned encouraging him to continue to stay committed to his regular therapy sessions in order for him to internalize and process the work you two are doing.

  Instead, he’s closed down a bit—he doesn’t offer any insight into how your sessions are affecting him, and if I ask him directly, he speaks in generalizations (i.e., “It’s going well,” “It’s giving me a lot to think about.”).

  Realizing this might be a very sensitive topic for him, even given our longstanding relationship, can I ask if he’s being any more open about his emotional progress with you? Does he feel like the surrogacy activities are providing him with the answers he sought? I just don’t know how I can help him right now if he doesn’t feel like he can talk with me.

  Best,

  Susan

  Damn. Liza rocked back in her chair, chewing on her lip. She’d asked Dominic to continue working with Dr. Cooper as a condition of their sessions; she didn’t know what to make of his sudden reluctance to disclose his feelings.

  Checking the time,
she debated for about two seconds before grabbing her phone and finding Dominic’s number. Hey, are you around?

  She occupied herself reading and answering emails until her message signal beeped less than fifteen minutes later. I’m here—everything ok?

  Yes, she typed back. Got a few minutes? Can I call?

  Not in a place to talk freely. Okay to keep texting?

  Of course. I just wanted to check in. Are you all right this morning?

  There was a bit of a delay as Dominic typed. Yeah—can’t say that was a typical Saturday night for me. Glad I’m not scheduled to hold Mass today. Don’t think I could concentrate.

  Oh man, didn’t even think of that. So sorry!

  No worries. That’s my job to know. Another pause. Honestly think I’m still in a bit of shock.

  Liza winced. I’m sorry. I should have known that might be too much.

  No, it was good—it was great. I’m just...this is hard.

  I know—that’s why I asked you to stay tuned in with Dr. Cooper. She’s concerned that you aren’t using your therapy sessions to process your emotions.

  This time, the wait was almost ten minutes, and Liza started to worry. When the text came in, it was broken into several separate messages.

  To be honest, he’d written, I don’t know what to tell her. When this was all hypothetical, it was easier to talk about, because it wasn’t me. It was just an idea, a thought.

  And now, it’s real, and it’s intense. And really, really personal.

  Somehow, talking about it with someone else seems...wrong. Sacrilegious, almost. I see what we’re doing as a kind of sacred contract, and I’m finding that I don’t want to let anyone else intrude.

  Oh, wow. Wow. She was finally getting to glimpse Dominic’s emotional processing of their sessions, allowing his vulnerability to rise to the surface. It was an amazing form of intimacy that he offered, and Liza melted at the thought.

  Now, her job was to nudge him along that green new path. Okay, she sent. I understand that. Would you be willing to talk with me instead? I think it’s important.

  You’re the only one I want to talk with about this. Is that okay?

  I think Dr. Cooper would find that acceptable, though she’ll want to be kept in the loop. Is that all right?

  Yes. I appreciate this, Liza.

  That’s what I’m here for. I really do want to talk, though. Can you call me tonight?

  What time?

  Any time after eight.

  Will do.

  She put her phone down, switching back to her email to dash off a quick response to Susan, extending Dominic’s offer and a promise to continue to collaborate.

  Sitting back, she took her first deep breath since Dominic had walked out of her house. Well, at least she hadn’t blown everything. Relief flowed over her shoulders, easing down her spine. By the time Dominic called, she’d know what she wanted to say besides, Please don’t freak out and run away from this.

  Feeling considerably lighter, she put her sinful, soulful priest aside and buckled down to work.

  * * *

  Snuggled into the porch swing on her tiny back deck, Liza sipped her wine and listened to the songs of emerging insects and other wild nightlife, her phone tossed onto the cushion beside her. For a while, she rocked, letting the wine take effect on muscles that had started protesting the moment she’d awakened. The strain in her arms and shoulders, the bruises on her knees, the lingering hoarseness—she was a fool if she thought she’d be able to ignore the aftereffects of Dominic’s brutal fucking.

  If you can’t beat it, enjoy it. Dominic obviously had, and that was what she zeroed in on. He was the fool if he thought he could unleash such primal, raw sexuality and then stuff it back into a bottle like an errant genie.

  But it wasn’t her call to make. Dominic would be the one living with the consequences, one way or the other.

  The phone rang, and Liza checked the time before she answered. Almost ten o’clock. “Hello, Dominic.”

  “Hi, Liza.” Through her cell, his voice sounded edgier, less mellifluous than in person. “Are you feeling all right? You know, after...last night?”

  “Stiff and sore,” she admitted. “But in a good way.”

  “There’s a good way?”

  She laughed. “Oh, yes. Sometimes the aftermath of a scene can be a great, visceral reminder of a great experience.” He was silent for a minute, so Liza added, “You know that if you have any questions or concerns about last night, you can ask me anything. That’s a huge part of what we’re doing here, remember?”

  “Right. Okay. Um...for starters, you called it a scene. Is that how you think of it? Like playacting?”

  “That’s a pretty good way to look at it. I think because the BDSM community has so many rules in place to encourage people to be safe, sane and consensual, that by the time you’re done scripting out an interaction, it’s almost like a play or a performance, with a definite beginning, middle and end.”

  “I get it. And you do these...scenes on a regular basis?”

  “Not regularly, no. But when the mood strikes.”

  “With different people every time?”

  “Well, no. Not always. If I find someone with a compatible kink, then we may meet more regularly, but sometimes half the fun is not knowing what your partner will be like.”

  “But you don’t date them in the regular world?”

  Liza frowned. “No, I’ve had scene partners turn into boyfriends, or even just friends. It’s kind of just like any other relationship that begins with a mutual hobby, for example. Our hobby just happens to be kink and alternative sexuality.”

  “I see.” Dominic was quiet again.

  “Can I ask, why that particular line of questioning?”

  “I suppose I’d never thought about this kind of sex as anything other than my own personal, selfish need to get off. It never occurred to me that it could be a two-way thing—that I’d be fulfilling someone else’s desires by unleashing my own.”

  His words made Liza bite her lip. “Pretty powerful stuff, huh?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, it threw me off a bit.”

  “People can have vastly different reactions to pushing their boundaries sexually. Sometimes, it’s a dead-end street. The idea is more titillating than the actual practice. But for others...it’s a revelation.”

  His voice husky and tentative, Dominic asked, “And you really got off on being used like that? I’m not judging—I’m very much in awe.”

  “BDSM tends to incorporate the idea of power play or power exchange. It’s not uncommon for someone to crave sex that allows them to be something or someone other than who they have to be in the real world. In my case, I spend my time needing to be in control of myself and others sexually in order to do my job. So when it comes to my ideal sexual experiences, giving over control to my partner is what floats my boat.” She felt her cheeks heat a little, laying it out so explicitly, but from what she knew of Dominic, he needed to hear it, in her own words and from her own perspective.

  “Even when that person degrades you, or humiliates you, or wants you to do something that you don’t want to do?” He sounded skeptical.

  Liza sat up straighter on the cushion. “Remember, I get to set my limits. I get to decide what does or doesn’t happen. It’s all part of the negotiation.”

  “Doesn’t that, well, kind of ruin the spontaneity?”

  “You tell me—how did you feel when you were outlining your fantasies to me? Did it make it any less intense when it came time to play it out?”

  “Oh, man. No. It was hot as hell just to put it into words. Okay, I get it. It’s part of the foreplay.”

  “Exactly! Gold star for my best pupil.” Holy cow, Liza, that was cheesy as all get-out. When he went silent again, Liz
a said, “Look, I wanted to apologize for letting things get personal last night. I have to admit that this has been a little harder than usual for me—I’ve never been in this position with a client before, and I’m not handling it as well as I should.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I think I’m kind of...flattered.”

  Oh, God. That was a rather distancing statement. Her mouth twisted involuntarily. “That’s kind of you,” she responded, and was glad that it sounded more sincere than it felt.

  “I mean it, Liza. You’re doing this amazing thing for me, and I feel like I’m barely seeing the tip of the iceberg. There’s so much more I want to explore, so much to understand. But I can’t indulge this for much longer. I don’t have much more time before I have to make a decision.”

  No kidding. “I understand that. The client can come to depend on the therapist to provide for their needs in a safe space, but the whole point of surrogate therapy is to help the client use what they learn to move forward with their lives.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I’m just...having to face reality, I suppose. I’m having this almost transcendental, powerful experience, and soon I have to give it up.”

  “Dominic—”

  “I know what you’re going to say. I’m not ready to make a final decision yet, and I’m trying not to rule anything out. All I know is that I don’t see a compatible path forward that includes everything I want. So at the end of the day, something has to give.”

  It struck her, hard and fast, that she had a definite opinion—and it wasn’t coming from her professional side. Given her druthers, she wanted this man. Wanted him more than any man she’d ever met.

  Dazed by that revelation, she sat dumbly with the phone pressed to her ear, realizing finally that she needed to say something. Anything but what she was thinking. “I... I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  That elicited a wry chuckle. “I’m a big boy. I went into this with my eyes open. Although I have to admit—I had no idea just how incredible this experience would be. And it’s all because of you. I’ll never forget this, Liza. Not if I live to a hundred.”