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"Ssshhh. . . " He let go of her wrists, pressed one hand to the side of her face, shifted her so her body was turned, cradled in his lap. He urged her head down on his shoulder, stroked her hair, ran his fingers soothingly up and down her sternum, revealed by the open robe. When his fingers brushed the nipple clamp of the right breast, she winced. He stilled, registering that he'd felt the reaction. Pressing carefully around each one, he released the clamps. She drew in a breath at the rush of tingling pain.
"You did it too tight, baby. " He bent his head. Brushing the robe out of his way, he covered her right nipple with his mouth. Cupping her breast in his hand to increase the sensation, his fingers traced idle circles on her flesh as he suckled her with soothing pressure. His other arm held her body close, his forearm warm against her back.
Marguerite closed her eyes. Her hand found its way to his head, threaded through his short
hair, stroked it. He held all of her easily, the same way he'd carried her and overpowered her just now. The devastating tenderness he was lavishing on her breasts, soothing her sore nipples, drained her protective anger away, left her with no desire but to be quietly there, docile. Raising his head at last, he brushed his lips along her chin.
"When they go back on, I'll do it. I won't let you hurt yourself, Marguerite. It's a Master's job to take care of you, protect you. Now, is this so bad? Being held?" Yes. Because it makes things break inside. His tenderness was like a single operatic note, shattering the delicate stems of wineglasses.
"Relax. " He kept her in the span of his arm but adjusted himself back alongside the table so he could pick up his fork, scoop up some egg and bring it to her lips. "Take a bite. I rarely slave over a stove and I want my efforts on behalf of a beautiful woman to be appreciated. "
"This is. . . difficult. " She took a deep breath, thinking that was the understatement of the world, the way he was keeping her rolling over from one emotion to another.
Automatically she opened her mouth, took the bite, chewed, swallowed.
"A Master doesn't just take, Marguerite. He gives, too. Care as well as pleasure. I like holding you like this. Not just because I like the way your ass feels rubbing against my cock. " He smiled that quick smile. "But because I like holding you in my arms, feeling you relax. Which, though you haven't done that yet, you're more relaxed than you were. "
"Are you instructing me?" She sounded cranky, even to herself.
"Maybe I'm reassuring you that this is normal. The way you're feeling. And I won't abuse your trust. Whatever you need to be or do to get through this, to figure it out, I won't shake off and I won't judge you or share with others what happened here. "
"You like it when a woman bares the darkest parts of her soul to you? So you can have power over her?"
"I like it when she gives me the gift of her trust. When a woman like you eventually does that, I know I've earned it. The power comes from giving a woman pleasure, watching her become helpless to me, hearing her beg for more. " His eyes lingered on her in a way that made her feel anything but annoyed, but she tried to hang onto it anyway.
"But why do you want her trust? What do you want to do with it?"
"If not abuse it?" He tightened his grip on her when she tensed. "Sshhh. Be still.
That's the only reason you can think of for a man to want a woman's trust? So he can take advantage of her? Marguerite, think about why you do what you do at The Zone.
What is that about? What did you tell me?"
She refused to answer, staring out the window. Rather than press her to look at him, he reminded her of her own words. "Everybody tries to make a connection to someone else. And I don't mean acquaintances, friends. We look for a connection to a soul. "
He ran his fingers through her hair, tangling there idly. "Good friends, lovers, subs, even sometimes with family. . . We enjoy time with them but usually move on after a while. But when we find that one person whose heart we want to win, we'll pledge everything we are or ever will be to get it. "
"Sounds like a marvelous fantasy. An adult fairy tale. "
"Sounds like hard work, the kind of hard work for which the reward is ten times worth the effort. "
Her radar picked up something different in his tone. Her gaze flitted up to his face.
This time she was intrigued to see his eyes turn away from direct contact with hers. "I think you relax more when you argue with me," he said abruptly. "You're not sitting like you've got a flagpole up your backside any more. " She was in fact sitting quite comfortably now. While he was talking, she'd settled in, so her arm was threaded under his, touching his waist through the slat of the chair, her fingers hooked loosely in his waistband. His body was strong and solid beneath her, the bare muscle of his stomach pressed against her silk-clad hip.
"Do you usually spout this much bullshit to your subs?" She wanted to pursue those shadows she'd seen in his eyes but they were gone as if they'd never been there, the moment lost.
He laughed, apparently enjoying her peevishness. "Yes. They're naive and impressionable, fawning on my every word. Do you play tennis?" She blinked. "Yes. "
"Are you good?"
"Yes. "
His smile broadened. "Good. It's time to exercise, loosen up the muscles I abused last night. There's a tennis outfit in our room. Skirt and sports bra, socks and tennis shoes, your size. That's all I want you wearing. No panties. " He boosted her out of his lap, stood with her, his hand caressing her hip.
"How about you?" she asked. "Don't I get a preference of what you wear?" He touched her bottom lip. "I'm pleased my slave has a preference. Tell me what you would like for me to wear and I'll consider it. " She was used to telling subs how to dress, so the reminder that she didn't have that status this weekend set her back on her heels. She did like looking at him, though. She wanted to deny it. Instead she watched in amazement as her fingers took it upon themselves to reach out toward his bare chest.
Perhaps because he knew how astounding a thing it was for her to want to reach out, he didn't stop her and demand that she ask to touch him first as she knew a Dom had the right to do. As he'd done when she first came into the kitchen. A wealth of spontaneous physical responses were apparently unleashed in her where he was concerned. She laid her fingertips over his pectoral, moved over the soft hair, fingered the nipple as she felt his eyes on her face, his body hot under her touch.
