Warning: This excerpt contains situations of an erotic nature containing dominance and aggressive sexual acts that may be a trigger to a more sensitive reader.

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18+ only

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“Carter’s Mistress”

By Pebbles Lacasse

Teaser

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     The door quickly pops open and reveals a face I’ve never seen but a body that I have. The photos didn’t lie. From what I can see, he’s fit and handsome.

     Carter’s sexy mouth slowly forms into a smile. He seems relieved that the woman standing before him is the woman from the photos, but with an unfamiliar face he seems to approve of.

     I return his smile and his shoulders ease. Was he worried I wouldn’t approve of his looks? He’s a good-looking man.

     His perfectly styled black hair is thick and lush, great for pulling. It’s not all that bright here at the door, so I can’t be positive, but I think his eyes are brown. His smile increases the slight wrinkles worn into the skin on the outer edges of his eyes. His complexion is slightly darker than mine, like a man who works outdoors under a blistering sun.

     “You must be Carter,” I say as I offer my hand. There’s a smoothness in my words that has me wondering who spoke. I expected my voice to fail me.

     He whispers, “Yes. Leah?”

     “That’s me,” I reply with a shrug. “May I come in?”

     He blinks quickly as if I’ve just woken him from his deep thoughts. I stride past him on the three-inch high boots with several buckles on the sides that send off a tiny ting with each step. He closes the door and flips the safety latch to ensure nobody can walk in, like a maid, for instance.

     He clears his throat as he walks up behind me. “Would you like a drink? I’ve had two.” He runs his hand through his hair and it rests exactly the same as before he had. “I’m nervous.”

     He pulls his fluffy hotel robe closed when he realizes the top fell open when he lifted his arm and my focus dropped to his bare chest.

     “Yes, please.”

     This is a new hotel, and the room is not what most hotel rooms look like. The comforter, folded and resting on the sofa chair, has a grey, red, and purple swirled design that matches well with the grey walls. The artwork prints hanging are a perfect accent to go with the red and purples splashed about the room. It looks clean and crisp in here, not old and stained with other people’s skin cells and bodily fluids. It even smells cleaner than any hotel I’ve ever been in. I like it here.

     He pinches his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes seem seduced by my legs. He holds a glass with bended elbow, but it’s empty. He’s distracted by my thighs and knees that aren’t covered by my short dress.

     “You’re nervous?” My voice startles him from his thoughts, and the quickness of his eyes to meet mine answers my question.

     “I am,” he confesses, and walks past me to the minibar to fetch me a tiny bottle of whiskey. “Do you want ice?”

     I shake my head. He looks away to prepare my drink, and I have to press my hand to my tummy to calm the nervous butterflies. He’s very handsome but worn, like a hardworking man who hasn’t had an easy life. I like his voice; it’s rough and scratchy.

     He crosses the room and hands me a glass of amber liquid. I take a big sip and set it on the dresser.

     “Would you like to use the washroom before we get started or do you want to talk about, um…” his voice drifts off.

     “That depends,” I reply.

     He scratches his naked calf with the toes on his bare foot. “On what?”

     “On whether you need time. I’m ready to start whenever you are.” 

     My voice still seems foreign to me. Who is this woman possessing my body? I like her!

     He nods with a heavy sigh and a relieved expression. “Good, because if I have to wait any longer, I’ll talk myself out of this, and I don’t want that.”

     I tip my head and nod as I smooth my hand down the tummy part of my dress, not to fix the dress, but to calm the flutters. A smile reaches my eyes and I clear my throat. Now he knows I’m nervous, too.

     He offers to take my purse and bag and sets them on the dresser. I reach down and grasp the hem of my dress and pull it over my head. I fold it once and lay it on the arm of the sofa chair.

     His smile drops away as his wide eyes drink me in. Is he trying to memorize this moment and how I look so he can recall it for years to come? He whimpers.

     “Do you approve?” 

     He needn’t answer. His reaction screams that he does.

     His voice cracks. “Yes, Mistress.”

     “Do you want to call me Mistress?” I ask as I unzip my bag to retrieve the cotton rope I brought with me.

     He’s quick to nod, and then clears his throat before he says, “I would prefer calling you Mistress, but only if it suits you.”

     “It suits me just fine,” I reply while my hand strokes the neatly folded rope. “Take off that robe, so I can see what I have to work with.”

     Who is this woman? Is she the real me I’ve hidden away because society deems her evil? I’m becoming more comfortable as I fall deeper into her character. Even my tummy flutters have calmed to a light flapping.

     He drops the robe to the floor without hesitation...

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