I sat in the chair across from his desk, and waited for him to address me, but he seemed lost in the city.

"Luketon will ask for another date. And you may go if you would like. But you can refuse the offer if you'd rather not."

"I would like another date… sir."

"Great," he said flatly. "You can leave now."

I pushed the chair under the desk and laid the coat jacket on the back. Mr. Felton would see Luke before I did.

As I turned the doorknob to leave, he grabbed my hand. I turned, but refused to look into his eyes. His jaw clenched, and he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. No words exchanged between us, just a weird electricity as if our bodies were speaking in a language that neither one of us understood. He released my wrist, and flicked his head insinuating I should leave.

Once inside the elevator, I recouped my thoughts before pressing G.

What the hell just happened?

I honestly didn't know.

Charlie dropped me off at home, where only a few exotic cars lined the driveway. I really needed to purchase a new car. It was on my list of things to do. Although the Honda's tire was fixed, I didn't feel like driving it. I had outgrown my college vehicle.

I thanked Charlie and headed toward the door. I punched the code into the keypad, but the door didn't open. Thinking I must have pushed an incorrect combination, I tried again. I had no key.

"Fuck," I whispered.

"Is that an offer?" Mr. Felton asked.

He must have driven around the backside of the house because I didn't hear him or V arrive but I wasn't paying attention.

"Umm."

He reached over my shoulder and punched in the code, but it didn't work for him either. Ha, I thought.

Without saying a word, we walked around the house, and he used his key for the back door. Inside was completely quiet. Everyone must have been out for the night or in bed. Only the virgin had a ten o'clock curfew.

Not paying attention, Mr. Felton walked into a lamp that sat in the corner of the sunroom. It shattered into a million pieces.

"Damn it," he said, whispering.

I barely made out his form by the faint moonlight that shone through the windows. He bent down and picked up all the little pieces of glass.

"Why in the world would anyone put that there?" I asked.

I wasn't familiar with every aspect in the house yet and had no clue where the switch would be. My luck, there would be a remote, just like every other damned light here. I pulled my phone from my clutch to give him some light. He laughed.

"Really?"

"What?"

"Your wallpaper, it's silly."

"What's silly about kittens? They're cute and make me smile."

"Right."

After unplugging the lamp from the wall, I bent down and helped.

"Careful. Picking up broken pieces can be dangerous," he said.

I whispered "Yes, sir" with sweet seduction in my voice. He stopped, but I continued picking up shards of glass with great care, but not carefully enough.

Pain pierced my finger and warm liquid dripped. Blood. The cut, although deep enough to hurt and bleed, was not deep enough to need stitches. Mr. Felton grabbed my hand and shined the kitty wallpaper on my finger. He immediately took his tie from around his neck and placed it on the wound.

"Come on. Before you bleed out on the wood floor," he said, leading me to the bathroom around the corner. Cold water washed the pain away.

Mr. Felton opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a small first aid kit. With great care, he doctored the nick. Neosporin and a Band-Aid and the small cut was sealed to heal.

"And I'm the softie?" I sarcastically asked.

He slightly puckered his lips and gave a laugh.

"What?" I asked.

"I want you to tell me about your sexual fantasies."

My mouth dropped open. I closed it and swallowed.

"Okay," I said, trying not to stutter.

My nerves tugged and pulled inside of my stomach. I had never spoken about my fantasies openly before. Not even to Lori or Abbie, and they were my best friends. Mr. Felton leaned against the sink, waiting.

"I don't know."

"You're bound to have some sort of fantasy. If you could have anything in the world, sexually, what would it be?"

He lifted an eyebrow at me. I cleared my throat.

"I might like being tied."

"Kinky little virgin." Mr. Felton chuckled.

"Maybe spanked, if it wasn't too hard. I don't want to bleed or anything. Oh, I always imagined having sex in water would be interesting."

"I want to know your dark fantasies."

He straightened, and moved closer to me.

"The ones that you keep secret from everyone. The ones you've never spoken out loud."

My throat went dry. Thoughts of being spanked, bound, and blindfolded floated in my mind. I would be willing to try anything, be willing to explore the dark side at least once.

"I want to be taken," I whispered.

"Taken. Mmm. Tell me how."

A piece of hair fell in front of my face, and Mr. Felton tucked it behind my ear. His touch was so gentle and slight as if I was a glass doll and would break. I blushed, and my face went warm. The conversation wouldn't end until I told him what I wanted. I had learned that in his office.

"Trust, Jennifer. Rule number one."

"Trust isn't the issue. I just don't know what I want, and it's kind of embarrassing," I said. We spoke low enough that our words could have been lost in a cool autumn breeze.

"Don't be embarrassed if you don't know what you want. It's not allowed," he said, his voice smooth like honey. I nodded my head.

"I'd like my arms to be held down or tied where I can't move them. Or even a scenario with blindfolds, and ice. My best friend told me about one of her exes. How he would spank her, bind her, and speak dirty to her while he was fucking her hard. Then he teased her with ice around her nipples and up her legs. It sounded hot. Hot enough for me to want to do it."

"My little experimental virgin."

His touch trailed down the outside of my arms, leaving goose bumps along the way. The talk about my secret fantasies made me want it.

"I think your real training will start tonight."

His fingers ran through my hair and down my neck. My body responded instantaneously. Grabbing my hand, Mr. Felton led me down the hall to the basement. But before entering, he stopped.

"You're ready, yeah?"

"As I will ever be." I peered into his eyes, thinking I might get lost in them.

"Do you want to obey me?"

"Yes… sir."

The truth was, I did. I wanted to know what it felt like to lose control, and be controlled. And to experience more of the person that placed my first orgasm in his pocket, the man who gave me Vegas and let me believe it could all be mine.

"I like that." He grabbed the bottom of my chin between his fingers. "Continue to call me that."

"Yes, sir."

"Trust, Jennifer."

He opened the basement door, and we walked down a set of stairs. A bed with fluffy blankets, a chair, floggers of all different lengths and sizes, ropes, blindfolds, and other things filled the room. I had no clue what half of it was or did.

My insides melted. I wasn't afraid of the training room, but curious. I stopped and tried to take in every inch. Without turning around, Mr. Felton gave the first command.