Of all the scenarios I’d run in my head when Mason had said he had “paperwork” to go over with me at his office, this one had never made the list of remote possibilities. As I stood at the head of the conference table staring down at the contract Mason had set before me, entitled, Sexual Consent Form and Right of Privacy Agreement, there was really only one thing to say.
“Is this a fucking joke?”
When he failed to answer straightaway, I barked, “That wasn’t rhetorical.”
“Well, I—no. No, it’s not a joke.”
“You’re offering me a sex contract?” Saying it out loud made it sound even more ludicrous than the revelation had seemed in my head.
“I prefer to think of it as a relationship contract.”
Jesus H, I was missing out on Netflix and leftover cake for this?
What the hell was wrong with everyone? Why weren’t there any decent single men left on the planet? My God, this scenario was like that crazy BDSM movie Chandra had dragged me to see—the one based on the famous bestselling books she was obsessed with.
How offensive! Did I really seem like the type who’d want to be a sex slave?
Lifting my chin, I narrowed my eyes on Mason, who was sitting several seats away on the left side of the long conference table.
“Is this what you do?”
He had the gall to look confused. “Pardon?”
“Is this normal for you? Are you in the habit of asking women to sign NDAs and sex contracts within an hour of making out with them for the first time?”
He frowned. “NDAs are fairly customary for the women I date, yes. The relationship agreement I’d like to talk to you about is not. This is the first time I’ve ever proposed something of its nature.”
Wow. To be flattered or insulted was the question. I was going to have to go with insulted.
“You know, I get that I come across as shy about my sexuality at times.” I may have been called frigid by a date a time or two. “But I am not a twenty-six-year-old virgin seeking a billionaire dom to tie me up and introduce me to my naturally submissive side. Shy and inexperienced does not equate to submissive, by the way. So allow me to dispel any illusions you’re harboring about me secretly wanting to be tied up and flogged in a red playroom in order to free my inner goddess or some shit. Because I can tell you right now, my inner goddess is not into floggings or nipple clamps or—or anal plugs.”
His brow spiked. I wanted to disappear through the floor as I realized what I’d said.
“Okay, yeah.” I threw my hands up. “So I saw the movie. Who didn’t?” I leveled my pointer finger at him and stressed, “But I never read the books. And you have no right to look at me like that when you’re the one handing out sex contracts.”
I thought I saw his lips twitch, but otherwise Mason remained stone-faced as he nodded subtly in acknowledgement, his posture casual where he sat with one elbow propped upon the table.
Meanwhile, my cheeks were tingling with heat and my heart was racing from the fresh cocktail of outrage, disappointment, and embarrassment I was struggling to swallow.
“The point is I’m not interested in signing a BDSM contract to be your sex slave.” I spelled it out firmly, even if my words did emerge breathless and my face felt like it was on fire. “Period. For the record, my inner goddess is into eating chocolate in bed and watching reruns of The Golden Girls.”
His head tilted to the side. “Are you finished?”
Any meager progress I’d made in gaining control of my breathing was destroyed a moment later as he pushed back from the conference table and rose to his feet.
“For the record, Liza, my only playroom is a billiard room, and it’s not red. I’m not looking to introduce you to a BDSM lifestyle with this contract. Nor do I wish to push you into sex acts you’re uncomfortable with.” His gaze was unwavering, his green eyes intent. “I’m not asking you to be my sex slave. What I want is to fuck you. Consensually.”
If any more blood rushed to my face, I’d pass out. But I couldn’t bring myself to back away from Mason as he approached. He’d taken his suit jacket off and had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt shortly after our arrival at his office. The sight of his tan, muscled forearms as he talked about consensually fucking me was not helping my resolve to call that Uber I should’ve hailed an hour ago.
“Sure, I have preferences. Favorite positions and sex acts. You’ll see that within the contract I’ve requested permission to eat you out while you’re trussed up and blindfolded.”
My mouth fell open. Words failed me.
“Frankly, because I think you’d enjoy it more that way.” He smiled faintly. “And I know I’d enjoy you that way. ”
I shook my head. Sexy forearms or not, he was insane. This was what came of being born privileged. The man clearly had too much time on his hands. He needed a favorite sport. Some kind of creative outlet. A rescue cat …
“You’ve tried it before?” he challenged when I continued to shake my head at him. “Didn’t care for it?”
It took a second for my rattled brain to realize what he was asking about.
“N-no, I haven’t—” I started to answer then stopped myself. It was none of his business whether I’d been eaten out before—blindfolded or otherwise. “I think you need a hobby.”
He laughed. “I think you should read the contract before you make assumptions about what’s in it.” He rounded the corner of the table, coming to stand right next to me.
I stood at about five-foot-nine wearing Chandra’s stilettos, and still I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes. But I didn’t back up or look away. “You’re serious?” It was as much a question as a statement of disbelief.
He didn’t answer me. Not verbally. The look in his eyes, however, said more than I was prepared for.
Purchase links for JUST THE TIP
Seven standalone contemporary romance stories featuring hilarious, sassy women and the guys who believe they can take them on.
There’s something irresistible about the things you can’t have…
Seven bestselling romance authors will make you laugh, cringe, and swoon with these new stories.
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“The contract gives you the authority to establish what happens between us. You’ll set the boundaries. Make the rules.”
Sometimes a girl needs a good office fantasy to keep her going through the long hours under fluorescent lights.
But fantasies are meant to be just that.
So when the high-profile client Liza’s been crushing on offers her a scandalous sex contract and the chance to live out her fantasies with him, she thinks he can’t possibly be for real.
Either that or he’s everything she’s been looking for.