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withdrew and thrust again. “So deep, I’m the only thing you can feel.” He repeated his motions. “The only thing you feel for days.”
He circled my breasts and played with my nipples. Fuck, he feels so good. I sucked in a breath and arched my back. He started a steady rhythm, taking what he wanted and giving me what I needed in the process. Each inward thrust pushed me deeper into the mattress and I felt my control slip.
“I’m not going to push you tonight,” he said, slowing down, but still moving hard and long inside me. “Come when you want.”
With the permission to come, I tried to hold my release off a little longer and started reciting the German alphabet backward under my breath.
But he picked up on what I was doing. “German isn’t going to help you tonight. I’ve got you where I want and I’m going to fuck you for as long as I can.”
I fisted more of the sheets.
“My dick feels so good right now, I may stay buried in you for hours.”
He could do it, too. He pressed even deeper inside and gave me a wicked smile.
“Hang on, Abigail.” Taking a tight grip on my hips, he drove into me over and over. I left German behind, muttering nonsense in my desire to hold out just a little bit longer.
He was hard and rough and took me with long, slow strokes. Finally, it was too much and I bit my lower lip so hard when I came, I tasted blood.
“Yes,” he said and pushed his body toward his own release until he came inside me with a primal groan.
He dropped on me and I reveled in the feel of his sated body covering mine. But he didn’t stay there long. Seconds later, still breathing heavily, he pulled back and kissed me with an intensity I hadn’t felt in years.
Chapter Five
I had thought something might have changed that weekend we played in front of Simon and Lynne, but things returned to the way they had always been. I didn’t have time to think a lot about it, though. My meeting with Meagan was coming up and she had e-mailed me a few ideas for articles she wanted me to write. What free time I had was spent writing.
The day of the meeting, three weeks after the Saturday with Simon and Lynne, Elaina came over with her son, Maddox, to watch Elizabeth and Henry. Elaina was married to Nathaniel’s childhood friend Todd. Though to be honest, she’d been Nathaniel’s friend for just about as long.
We’d grown close over the years and I loved her like the sister I never had. I was riding into the city with Nathaniel and before we left, she pulled me into a hug and told me she couldn’t wait to hear how everything went. I promised to call her when the meeting ended.
“Kick ass,” she whispered in my ear.
“I plan on it.”
Nathaniel was quiet as we pulled out of the driveway. Which was fine. The silence allowed me time to go over the questions I wanted to ask and the information they’d requested from me.
“I was thinking about this weekend,” Nathaniel said about twenty minutes into the drive.
“Oh, do we have plans?” I didn’t think we did. It was actually one of the few free weekends we had on our calendar. The annual black-tie fund-raiser for Nathaniel’s nonprofit was coming up in a few months and he had a lot of things to oversee between now and then.
“No. Which is why I was thinking what I was.”
I waited for him to continue, noting his hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I know we don’t have anything scheduled for another week or so, but I want you in my collar this weekend.”
That was unexpected. Since we’d started playing every month, he’d never asked to increase frequency. Even after Elizabeth was born, we’d never progressed to anything other than once a month. We’d talked about it, but I’d gotten pregnant with Henry and that had put a stop to the discussions. We still played a bit while I was pregnant, but with a dramatically decreased intensity.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he said. “Are you not interested?”
“It’s not that. I just wasn’t expecting that to be what you were thinking about.”
“Maybe that’s why it would be a good idea.”
His statement hung in the air between us while I thought about what he said. He had a point. It probably would be a good idea and I had anticipated something of the sort after our last weekend.
“Will you ask Linda to take the kids?” I asked.
His grip on the steering wheel grew even tighter, his knuckles turning white before he loosened his hands. “I think you need a reminder about what you’re to be concerned about when you’re in my collar.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked straight ahead, but I saw his lips draw together in a thin line before he answered. “It means you’re to leave the plans for the weekend up to me. I’ll take care of everything. Your job is to be in the right frame of mind.”
“So that means I can’t ask about our kids?”
“Instead of answering, I’m going to give you an assignment. I want you to write a five-hundred-word blog post on the possible ways I might take the question you asked me. Due Friday at six.”
Was he serious? I didn’t know what I was going to have to work on after the meeting and here he was adding to it?
“What if I don’t have time?”
“Then I will handle the situation Friday at six.”
I didn’t even have to ask what that meant. “Hell.”
Of course, I could tell him I didn’t want to wear his collar this weekend. It might actually be a good idea since I didn’t know what I’d have on my plate by then. But I really wanted to.
Which meant I had to do the assignment.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
I sighed. “That’s a yes.”
“You don’t have to act like it’s a fate worse than death.” He glanced at me and flashed a smile. “You could look at it as another way to sharpen your writing skills.”
“My writing skills are fine, thank you very much.”
Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was being a brat. It was just, ugh. He truly had ways to get under my skin. Deciding to make use of the time left in the car, I pulled a notebook from my purse and started jotting down ideas for the assignment he gave me.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Ideas for what I’m going to put in the blog post you just told me to write.”
“Put it down.”
“What?”
“Put. It. Down.”
“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or does driving into the city always make you this grumpy?”
“I am not grumpy.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I asked you if you wanted to wear my collar this weekend and I gave you a writing assignment. That does not make me grumpy. That I don’t want you working on it in the car does not make me grumpy.” He stared straight ahead. “You should know me well enough by now to know I don’t say or do anything without reasons.”
Of course I knew that. He could very well have all the reasons in the world, but that didn’t mean they were right. Though, most of the time, his were.
“Let me further expand on the writing assignment,” he said. “I want you to take time to think about your question to me and how I took it. I don’t want you to jot down what you think the answer is or what you’ve discovered in your research. I want a well thought-out, contemplative post.”
I shoved the notebook back into my bag.
“To help you, I want you to spend thirty minutes meditating on it tonight. You’re not to write anything about it until your meditation is completed.”
Thirty minutes?
