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“Mmm.” He focused on my eyes. “I think it’s just right.”
“Thank you, Master.”
He fed me a bite of salad and a drop of Italian dressing landed on the corner of my mouth. I shifted to get his napkin, but he shook his head. He leaned forward and wiped it away with his thumb.
“May I, Master?” I asked, stilling his wrist with my hand.
“Yes.”
I kissed his thumb and then sucked it into my mouth, all the while keeping my eyes on his. His eyes had grown dark and his breath was ragged. I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, something. But he inhaled deeply and pulled away.
“You need to eat,” he said.
I didn’t feel hungry at all, but lunch had been hurried. If I didn’t eat now, I’d be wide-awake at two in the morning with a growling stomach. He took his time feeding me and after a few bites, he put the fork down and held his wineglass to my lips.
Usually when he fed me while I wore his collar, we’d be in the playroom. Sitting at the dining room table felt slightly wanton. He shifted his hips and his erection pushed against my thigh. He ignored it, focusing his attention on ensuring that I ate. Bite after bite he fed me, giving me sips of wine in between. Being so close to him, sitting in his lap, I was acutely aware of every inch of him. The firmness of his thigh, the strength of chest, his warmth.
“I should fuck you on the table,” he said.
It was so easy to picture. He’d stand up and lay me down on top of the table. Maybe even pushing the dishes aside like they always did in the movies. I’d put on a dress for dinner and all he’d have to do is lift the hem to my waist. I didn’t have any underwear on. He could take me so easily. It would require hardly any effort for him to climb up along with me, or roughly grab my legs and pull me to the edge.
Please.
“Abigail.” His fingers danced along my upper thigh, dipping a bit lower to tease the hem of my skirt. He stroked my knee and ran his hand almost, but not quite, up my leg entirely. “Tell me. If I fingered you now, would you be wet?”
“Yes, Master.” I squirmed just a little, letting him know he should feel free to check.
“It would take nothing for me to lift you onto the table and have my way with you.” He whispered in my ear, “I’ve never had you on the dining room table.”
“That’s a travesty, Master. We should fix it.”
He ran his tongue along my earlobe and I shivered at the sensation. “That we should, my lovely. And we will. But not tonight.”
I gave a half whine. Why? Why when I wanted him so badly?
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
Of course he did; at times it was as if I’d married a fucking mind reader.
“Your poker face is nonexistent,” he continued. “And trust me, I want it as badly as you do. But I’m going to make us both wait for it. It’ll make it so much better.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Or, at least, that’s what I recall you saying about why we shouldn’t have sex the month before our wedding.”
Damn his perfect memory. “Yes, Master. I remember. I also remember we both decided that going that long without sex wasn’t the best idea I ever had.”
“Then we’ll both sleep easy tonight knowing we won’t have to wait an entire month this time.”
Much to my surprise, I did sleep well that night. It was difficult to explain, but I often felt closer to him when I wore his collar. True to his word, we didn’t have sex at all. When I climbed into bed after him and he pulled me to him, I almost begged. Instead, I gave a sigh of contentment and focused on the feeling of his arms around me.
Protected.
Secure.
If I felt closer to him at times while in his collar, I also felt more protected. Not to say I didn’t feel that way during the week, but there was something about being in his collar. Branded as his and his alone, I knew he would go through hell and back to keep me safe.
He turned his head and kissed my hair.
I lifted my face. “Kiss me, Master.”
I knew from experience he would never deny me at least that much. He didn’t disappoint, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine in a slow and sensual kiss that curled my toes.
I couldn’t wait for the next day.
Chapter Three
The doorbell rang the following morning while I was in the bedroom getting ready. I’d served Nathaniel breakfast in the dining room, but unlike the previous night, he asked me to join him. With one last look in the mirror, I made my way into the hallway.
I ran into Nathaniel as he was heading down the stairs. When he saw me, he stopped.
“Lift the sweater.”
I dropped my eyes and lifted the hem of the sweater, allowing him just a glimpse of the lacy black corset underneath.
“Very nice,” he said, dragging a finger along the material over my belly. His voice and touch nearly left me in a puddle of desire. “Though I can’t wait to see you completely naked.”
“I feel the same, Master.”
He cupped the back of my neck, drawing me closer and running his fingers along the hair at the nape of my neck. “Feeling better today, my lovely?”
I lifted my head and met his eyes. They were dark with a desire that I felt all the way to my toes. “Yes, Master. Much.”
“Good.” He brushed his lips gently to mine and then took my hand as we made our way to the door.
Simon and Lynne stood on our porch. His left arm was around her shoulders and it took only a quick glance at her to see why. She looked like she’d jump out of her skin if anyone looked at her wrong.
“Simon,” Nathaniel said. “Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you,” the lanky man with sandy-colored hair said. “This is Lynne.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said and her eyes grew big, almost as if she expected him to whip out a flogger and handcuffs right there on the front porch. He lowered his voice and nudged me forward. “This is my wife, Abby.”
Being introduced to me seemed to relax her only a tiny bit. Her eyes were still wary and her muscles tense. Though in fairness, I no longer thought she’d take off running back to the car.
“Abby,” Nathaniel said, still using the voice he’d use to talk to a wild animal. “Why don’t you take Lynne into the kitchen while Simon and I talk in my office?”
I waved for Lynne to follow me and she gave Simon a quick peck on the cheek before stepping over the threshold. As we walked down the hall, I pointed to the room on our right. “That’s Nathaniel’s office where the men will be. I was going to put some sandwiches together for lunch. Come keep me company?”
I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t say anything, but simply followed me into the kitchen. I took out the bread and raised an eyebrow at the petite blonde, who still looked like she was seconds away from dashing out of the house.
“You know, if you don’t want to watch, if it makes you too uncomfortable, or if you want to wait and reschedule, I don’t have a problem telling the guys.”
She straightened her shoulders and I swore I caught a glimpse of a backbone. Good thing, too. It took a strong woman to submit.
“I’m fine,” she said and there was a steel edge to her voice that surprised me. She took a deep breath. “I’ll admit I’m just a bit intimidated by you and Nath—Mr. West. And the idea of watching. But I have to do this. For me.”
There was a truth to her words that her expression reflected. And the once timid woman now looked like the brave mouse attempting to remove the splinter from the lion’s paw. I felt more at ease seeing the transformation.
“Hearing you say that makes me so happy,” I said, working on the sandwiches. “But you can call him Nathaniel. Hardly anyone calls him Mr. West. And it’s completely understandable to be intimidated watching someone for the first time.
I know I was.”
She walked to stand beside me at the counter and reached for the bread to help me. “Is it weird for you? Playing in front of
