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He hadn’t dressed. He sat in the chair naked. She came to kneel at his side. Head down, hands tucked demurely behind her back, knees spread, posture perfect. With his hungry gaze, he feasted on the beautiful sight in front of him.
Finally he patted his thigh. “Come sit on my lap, pretty slave. You’ll feed us both.”
Perhaps somewhere in the dom handbook, it stated he should be the one doing the feeding, controlling every bit of food that passed her lips, but Sean didn’t operate that way. He’d actually masturbated to fantasies of Marcella feeding him. Her long, tapered fingers with that delicate French manicure would touch his lips and his tongue as she placed the food in his mouth.
“Use your fingers only.”
She settled on his lap, her bare bottom pressing heat against his thigh. “Yes, Master.”
He held her close with one arm circling her back. He crossed his other arm over her legs and rested it on her thigh. Her breasts swayed and jiggled as she cut the turkey sandwich into bite-size pieces. Next time he would have to request finger foods. The clamp had colored the deep rose of her nipple red. It called to him. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the tip. She twitched.
“Does it hurt?”
“A little, Master. But it feels good too.”
He palmed her breast as she shifted, turning to him with a small square of food between her fingers. “Feed yourself first. I love watching you eat.”
She paused. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit, but hunger trumped surprise. The square disappeared into her mouth. She grabbed another and offered it to him. He made sure to catch her fingertips, sucking them lightly as he accepted the food. Her eyes widened even more, and the fresh scent of her musky arousal reached his nose.
They ate in silence, feeding more than their stomachs. By the time they’d cleared the plate of food, Sean’s erection rested against Marcella’s leg and her juices wet his thigh.
“Straddle me.”
He took his cock in hand as she stood and arranged her legs on either side of the chair. She gripped his shoulders for balance, and he held her hips because if he didn’t, he would go insane. Wordlessly she eased that velvet warmth down his cock.
“Ride, Cella. We don’t have much time, and I want to see you come.”
“Yes, Master.”
She rose up and slammed down. Shocks of pleasure gathered at the base of his spine and tingled outward. He concentrated on the sensuous slide of her skin over his, reveling in all the ways her scent and touch intoxicated him. She gyrated and undulated, racing her way to orgasm and taking him with her. Her head fell back, and her eyes closed. Sean watched, fascinated by his beautiful slave, and he fell completely in love. Maybe he’d been in love with her all along, but this was the first time he allowed himself the freedom to bask in it. The stakes rose. Not only did he need her to admit she couldn’t live without him, he needed to know she felt the same way about him.
Those thoughts shoved to the back burner when her sheath clamped around him. White edged his vision, and he fought the urge to climax. He pressed his palms into her breasts, flattening the tissue. Her body jerked, and she pushed against him, flattening them even more. He knew her sensitized, abused nipples had to ache, and he marveled at her enjoyment of this sweet pain. She might not like the whip, but he was learning what other kinds of pain she liked. He filed this knowledge away as her rhythm faltered.
“Come for me, Cella.”
The impending orgasm drawing up his balls pressed him to do something, but he resisted helping her to regain the rhythm. He could have released her breasts to guide her hips, but he wanted to know how much control she wielded over her pleasure. She drew in a ragged breath and ground against him. The crude gyration pushed her over the edge. Her silky pussy pulsed, creating a vacuum that pulled at his own pleasure. She cried out, and he came with her.
She slumped against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her body, holding her while they both shivered and convulsed with aftershocks. He drew his fingertips up and down her back until she settled into his embrace.
Things had changed between them, irrevocably shifted, and he didn’t know the rules of their new relationship. The mild possessiveness he’d always felt toward her grew, crystallizing into something hard and unyielding. He hadn’t wanted to use her in the benefit at all, and now he found it more difficult than ever to picture following through with their plan. The idea of sharing something so intimate with spectators left a sick and prickly feeling in his stomach.
However, he had promises to keep, and he could trust her to hold him to his word. Whether he wanted to do the benefit or not, she had committed herself, and she wasn’t the kind of woman who went back on her promises. He had to honor that.
