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I’m trying to learn from him. Based on how he responds to me, I have the feeling I’m doing a good job.
He opens his eyes and pats my ass. “I wish I could spend all day in bed with you, but I have a meeting at the gallery in a while. Vanessa Duchamp wants to look at the exhibit before it opens tonight.”
I give him a little faux-pout, and he smiles.
“I’ll be counting down the minutes until I have you naked again,” he tells me, and my pout turns to a smile.
“Me too.”
He gets out of bed, and a moment later, I hear the shower turn on. Showering with Nathaniel is my favorite way to shower, but I leave him alone to get ready. Tonight, maybe we’ll shower together.
I stretch out in his king-size bed, my head resting on the fluffiest pillow I’ve ever slept on, the cool white sheets caressing my body. I close my eyes and listen to the shower, then to Nathaniel moving around in the bathroom as he shaves and brushes his teeth.
When he comes back into the bedroom, I watch him get dressed, and when it’s time to put his tie on, I kneel on the edge of the bed and tie it for him. He rests his hand on my naked hips and watches me as I tie and straighten the knot.
“Make yourself at home. Relax,” he says. “The kitchen is fully stocked, and the pool and Jacuzzi are both at your disposal.”
I smile and run my fingers down his tie. “I might end up watching reality TV on the big screen in your living room,” I tease, knowing his opinion of those shows.
He grimaces, and I laugh.
“Will you at least be watching them naked?”
I shrug. “You’ll just have to wonder, maybe.”
He gives my ass a not-so-gentle slap, and I bite my lip. He’s mock-threatened to spank me a few times, and the idea of him tossing me over his lap and doing that to me turns me on.
“Maybe I’ll reprogram all of your favorites, so they show reality TV networks,” I say.
“You must want me to spank you,” he murmurs.
I smile up at him. “All talk and no action, Mr. Stone.”
He groans and squeezes my ass. “Teasing is definitely punishable by spanking.” I wiggle my ass beneath his hand, and he gives a snort of a laugh.
“When I get back,” he says. “I’m pretty sure you have a good spanking coming your way.” He cups my breasts, and I moan. “These might have a few smacks coming, too.” He lowers his mouth to one nipple, tugging it gently into his mouth, and then does the same with the other. He stands up straight and meets my eyes. “Rest up today. You’re going to need your energy later.” And then he kisses me, leaving me breathless and needy, and then gives me one more sexy smile before he walks out the door.
I shake my head and pull on one of Nathaniel’s button-down shirts, then make my way to the kitchen to find something for lunch. I’m absolutely starving, and if Nathaniel is to be believed (which I know he is) I’m going to need my energy later.
His penthouse is enormous, full of light from the big windows that look out over the city. Wood floors gleam, and the furniture is modern and expensive. A Jacuzzi is in one corner of the living room, near the windows. I blush as I remember the way he took me there, fucking me from behind as I braced my hands on the glass, telling me that anyone who happened to look this way would be able to see me, watch me being taken by him.
I shake my head and continue looking through the fridge. I end up settling on a plate of fruit and cheese, and I eat while looking around. It’s all very Nathaniel. Larger than life, refined, but with an undercurrent of wildness that very few get to see. The modern furniture and expensive art lives side by side with an almost ridiculous collection of swords and knives, which are displayed on one wall. The neat bedroom hides a whole lot of naughtiness, from the nipple clamps he used on me that morning to a collection of ropes and other sex toys I haven’t been brave enough to try yet.
I’m getting up to put my plate in the dishwasher when I hear the door open, and then, to my shock, a child’s laugh echoing down the marble-floored hallway from the foyer. I look down at myself, wearing only Nathaniel’s shirt, and start to make a mad dash for the bedroom.
I reach the living room when I realize it’s too late. A little boy and an older woman are standing there, looking at me. He’s maybe five years old, with dark hair and… hazel eyes.
“Hello,” I say, tugging at the bottom hem of the shirt. I’m glad Nathaniel is so much taller than I am.
“Hi,” the boy says. I glance at the woman.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I have a family emergency. Please pass my apologies along to Mr. Stone. I’ll see you soon, Micah,” she says, and then she’s gone, and it’s just the kid—Micah—and I left standing there.
