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“Morning, sexiest man alive,” she murmured drowsily.
Oh, shit. Had she really just said that out loud?
She must have because Damon barked a laugh as he reached for her. Gathering her into his arms, he nuzzled her neck and then lightly bit her shoulder. “That’s Master Sexiest Man Alive to you. You should get a spanking for your impertinence.”
“I absolutely should,” she agreed, laughing too. “The harder the better, Sir.”
Later that morning as they made breakfast together, Ellen rubbed her sore bottom. Master Damon had taken her at her word, giving her a blistering spanking that had both made her cry and sent her soaring into submissive headspace.
Just as she’d completed the waffle batter and was preparing to pour the first spoonful into the waffle iron, he came up behind her and lightly patted her bare ass. “You’ve got some lovely bruises developing, slave girl.”
“Yes, Sir,” she agreed happily. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Don’t thank me too soon,” he said, his voice lowering to a dangerous, seductive purr. “We were all lovey dovey last night, and that’s fine. But now we have some catching up to do, all of it involving plenty of leather, rope and serious sadomasochism.”
“Oh,” she breathed, her entire body flushing with desire.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. As his tongue claimed her mouth, he lifted her onto his hips and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Still kissing her, he carried her into the bedroom. They fell together to the bed.
Those waffles would just have to wait.
Chapter 30
Damon arrived home on a late Friday afternoon in July. In the five months that he and Ellen had been together, he’d been pulling back from the insane number of hours he used to spend at work. He had hired more staff and was learning to delegate. After all, there was a reason to come home now. The best reason in the world.
As he walked up the path of the house they had rented together, he admired Ellen’s beautiful garden. Her roses were blooming in deep reds and creamy yellow. Black-eyed Susans and daylilies grew in profusion alongside crape jasmine, which filled the air with its sweet scent.
The package he’d been waiting for was sitting on the wraparound porch. He picked it up and used his key to unlock the door.
He’d texted her when he was leaving the office, per their usual protocol. When he entered the house, the familiar, beautiful sight of his slave girl, kneeling naked on the colorful throw rug near the door greeted him. Her posture was military straight, her hands clasped together behind her neck. Faint marks from the caning he’d given her before leaving for the office still showed on her beautiful breasts and the tops of her thighs.
Her hair was streaming loose down her back, the soft black leather slave collar in place around her slender neck. The nipple jewelry he’d bought her after piercing her nipples last month glinted in the soft sunlight streaming through the windows. Her knees were spread wide, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her smooth, bare cunt. Love light shone in her blue eyes, her cheeks dimpled with a radiant smile.
“Welcome home, Master Damon,” she said, as she did each evening when he arrived.
Their Master/slave relationship had developed into something that went far beyond the BDSM play they’d enjoyed during their weeklong adventure at The Enclave. Damon had finally earned the trust he demanded from his slave girl, and she gave herself completely to him now. No safeword was needed, their intuitive connection making it unnecessary.
The love he felt for her possessed the power to both save and destroy him. It was a humbling thought, and only made him cherish the gift of her love and submission all the more.
Confessing his shame and his pain aloud had been the first step toward healing the terrible wounds inside him, toward putting the broken pieces of his soul back together. With the help of the therapist he was seeing, he was learning to forgive himself, and to allow himself to be vulnerable. The process wasn’t always smooth and sometimes he stumbled emotionally. But Ellen was there for him, casting a net of love to break his fall.
Setting down the package, he moved to her, pulling her up and into his arms. After a long, lingering kiss, he let her go. “How was your day?”
“I finished the first painting for the new series,” she said, her eyes sparkling as they always did when she talked about her work. “I’ve already got the drawings done for the first book.”
“Show me,” he said.
They walked together to the room she’d claimed as her studio.
“This is terrific,” he said, admiring the bright, colorful work on her easel. “You sure you’re going to be able to tear yourself away from your studio for a whole weekend?”
They’d been invited to The Enclave for a dungeon party on Saturday night. Anthony had graciously offered them the use of the cabin for the weekend.
“Absolutely, Sir,” she said eagerly. “I have everything packed, including your gear bag,” she added with a shy smile.
“Of course you do,” Damon said with a grin. “Speaking of which, go get that package I left by the front door. It’s for you. Open it up and bring it to me. I’m going to change.”
As Ellen scurried to do his bidding, Damon went into the bedroom. Because of limited space in the small house, they hadn’t been able to set up a dedicated dungeon.
