I pull her hand up to my lips, kissing across her middle knuckles. “You ordered for yourself,” I remind her.
She shrugs. “Well, yeah, but I told you about my belly, and you went all hero mode and took over, telling him to bring out the things that would settle it faster. That’s a total romance novely thing to do, Viking.” Her eyes look dreamy, and the Dom in me that I’ve been trying to tamp back smirks and flips me off.
“Noted, baby,” I tell her, loosening my grip so she can slide back to her side of the table. “So do you have any details about the kind of makeup they want to do tonight? Yours looks amazing tonight, by the way. I like how you incorporated the yellow of your shirt to make it pop.”
She giggles, shaking her head. “You know you don’t have to do that anymore, right?”
My brows furrow. “Do what exactly?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Pretend to be interested in my makeup stuff to try to get me to talk. I’m much more willing to converse about things you’re actually into.”
My lips pull down in a frown, my eyes darkening. “I’ve never pretended to be interested in anything when it concerns you, little one.”
She swallows thickly, her head straightening and her eyes widening a little before she looks down, contrite. “Oh, um…” She fidgets with her napkin, not knowing how to respond.
My Dom cracks his knuckles then jerks his head from side to side, warming up to be tagged in off the bench for what feels like the first time in forever. And it’s only because everything she does, in and out of our bedroom, has been begging me to let him out lately.
I lean back in my seat, one hand resting on the top of the table while the other is pressed to the top of my thigh, my elbow out, my big body taking up this entire side of the booth. “Get up,” I command, and her eyes lift to mine. It’s time to see how receptive she is to actually submitting and not just reading about it in her books. Just a taste, nothing too harsh.
“Wh—” She looks around nervously, seeing if anyone is watching us. I don’t give a fuck if they are. I saw two members of the club sitting at different tables as soon as we walked in. Besides a discreet nod, we didn’t acknowledge we knew each other. It’s called Club Alias for a reason.
“Get. Up.” When she still doesn’t move, I give her a little incentive, since this is the first time I’ve dominated her before, and we are out in public. “Unless you want me to turn your little ass red before you walk into your first night of work, get up and come to me.”
Her eyes flare before going half-mast, and I see her chest flush just above the neckline of her tee. Ah, that’s my girl. Aroused by the idea of a little punishment. I was worried she wasn’t ready for that, after everything she went through with that sadistic motherfucker, but I’m so fucking happy to see that she’s turned on thinking about it, if it’s coming from me.
She scoots to the edge of her bench, swings her legs out from under the table, and then stands, taking a quick glance around before stepping over to my side.
“Very good, little goddess. Now sit.” I glance down at the tiny bit of space I’ve left on the end of the seat, not making a move to give her more room.
She swallows, and then she lowers herself to perch on the edge of the bench.
“Now take my napkin and place it in my lap,” I order, my cock starting to press against the zipper of my jeans as she starts to follow my commands with less hesitation. That’s all I want from this experiment—to see if she’ll give in to her desires to submit even though she thinks being argumentative equals being independent. Little does she know, she’ll get everything she wants and more if she just… gives… in. Because unlike the asshole who controlled her for his own sick pleasure, who only doled out punishment after punishment, I’ll give her rewards she could never even dream of in return for her submission.
“Such a good girl you are, my love, listening so well to your Viking,” I murmur low for only her to hear, and her eyes