Brat and Master by Sindra van Yssel Page B

there in forty-five minutes. Maybe all he wanted was a kinky scene, but she wanted closure sooner than that. She had no idea where he lived, but she could toss her bike on her car and be at Legion Park in fifteen minutes. It was a nice ride, not too hilly, the perfect thing to stretch her legs. And work the kinks out in more ways than one. She got up and changed into her biking shorts and top, made of stretching material that breathed well and wicked the sweat away from her body.
    A few minutes later, she glanced at her e-mail. He might not even be awake. But there was a reply.
    I’ll be there, but it’ll take me an hour. Leaving now. Wait for me.
    Her heart sped up. Wait for me. Being given an order outside of the context of a BDSM scene ought to have pissed her off. Instead it turned her on. She’d not left him any other way to contact her than e-mail, and so he couldn’t go back and forth on the time with her if he wasn’t able to make it in forty-five minutes. It made a sort of sense.
    Okay, Jeremy. I’ll wait. She wheeled the bike out of her small apartment, down a flight of stairs, and out to the back of her Volkswagen Beetle. She hoped it didn’t choose today to break down; the check-engine light had been on for a while, and she didn’t have money to get anything fixed yet. In a few minutes she was on the road, driving to Legion Park.
    She didn’t have to wait long, as it turned out. She was five minutes later than her forty-five estimate, and he was five minutes early on his hour. The long black sedan he stepped out of looked almost new. He was in blue jeans and a tight black T-shirt. The muscles of his upper arm stretched the sleeve. He didn’t have a bike carrier; instead he’d lashed the bike to the back bumper with rope. Someone is secure about his knots. The thought made her shiver. I was going to train a newbie dom to suit my needs. I should run, now.
    Instead, she hopped on her bike and met him in the parking lot while he was still untying his bike. “Hi.”
    “Hello, Amanda,” he said. “Good to see you again.”
    “You too.” Some guys would have used the greeting as a chance to connect, to hug and maybe even to get a kiss or cop a feel. Not Jeremy, apparently, who was busy untying the knots that held his bike fast. She was vaguely disappointed.
    Then he turned to her and stroked the side of her face. It was somehow more intimate than if he’d pulled her in for a hug, because it was so unexpected and deliberate. He seemed so intense. All she could do was stare at him, not breathing, while her heart hammered.
    “Very nice to see you again,” he said.
    “Yes.” She breathed.
    “I have to warn you.”
    “Yes?”
    “I’m horribly out of practice.”
    “You’re remembering fine, Sir. That spanking was wonderful. Your touch—electric.” Her nipples had tightened into two little points as if connected on wires to where he touched her.
    “I meant biking. Haven’t done it in ages.” He strapped on a green helmet.
    “Oh!” Right, that’s what we’re here to do. The moment passed, and she felt able to move again. Hell, she felt like fleeing from the intensity of his touch and gaze. Every touch and every look had the full force of his personality behind them. He seemed so much more focused than most people. “Well, you’ll get it. You’re fit. And it’s like, um, like…”
    “Like riding a bicycle?” he asked, his face unreadable.
    ”Exactly like that,” she agreed.
    He laughed, and she laughed.
    “My tires are inflated. I still had my pump. Let’s go. The worst that can happen is that I embarrass myself in front of a beautiful woman.”
    Amanda blushed and then looked around. “Where is she?”
    “You’ll find her,” he said. “Do you always shy away from compliments?”
    “Sir?”
    He didn’t answer, and she didn’t need him to because she knew what he meant. She wasn’t sure why she did that. Maybe I don’t think people are being sincere. Either way, she