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“No. Because . . .” With a deep breath, she said it. “I love you too.”
Ambrose grinned, his eyes shining, and so blue she felt like she could dive into them. He watched her like she was the most amazing thing in the world. It was the most wonderful feeling—like she was the most important person in the world to another person. She’d had men say they loved her before, but with Ambrose she could see the adoration on his face. People said that real Dominants often worshiped their submissives, but she’d never seen it for herself. The link that was being forged between them made the other D/s relationships she’d been in seem like pale imitations of the real thing.
He traced his finger over her bottom lip, his gaze never leaving her face. How could it be that his soft touches aroused her as much as the spankings and the sex?
Before she had time to seriously contemplate that, he was brushing his lips against hers, taking her mouth as though it belonged to him. For a long while he did nothing but kiss her, and it was somehow as magical as she always thought a kiss should be.
“You already knew I loved you?” he whispered against her mouth, sounding amused.
“Only because you’ve been showing me that you do for weeks. You make me feel like you love me, which is more important than pretty words.”
Ambrose smiled and stroked her hair. “That’s because it’s true, and sometimes true things are easier to show than say.” He kissed her again, briefly, then set her on her feet. “Now, I need you to hang on to all of those warm, fuzzy feelings, and try your best to remember I love you.” He got to his feet and started to lead her down the hall, back toward the pool area. When they got to the stairs they descended.
“What are you going to do to me?” This didn’t bode well. His words had almost sounded like a threat.
“Well, some mouthy little girl wounded my pride. So now we’re going to spend some time proving her wrong.”
“But . . . I don’t think I like the sound of this.” She thought about trying to lag behind, but he had a firm grip on her wrist and seemed quite determined. “Aren’t you finished punishing me?”
“Did I give you that impression? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you, slave.” He had turned to look at her, and his expression was sinister.
Everly would have come in her panties, if she were still wearing any. No one could look as truly evil as Ambrose did when he had a plan.
She thought about whining, but the bastard would probably like that. Maybe giving him some satisfaction would make him feel more charitable toward her?
He walked her to one of the support columns in the lounge area and backed her against it. “Stay,” he commanded.
Oh God, why did it turn her on so much when he issued commands like she was his pet dog? Probably because she could tell by his expression and the way he held himself that he fully expected her to be an obedient little pet. She waited while he rooted around in his bag, pressing her thighs together to try to give her poor, aching clit some relief.
How did she get herself into this? With a vanilla guy, she just could have said, “Dude, it’s fucking time,”
and the guy would do a back handspring then do pretty much anything she asked if it meant he was getting laid. She had a feeling even if she begged Ambrose for relief right now, it wouldn’t divert him from his plan. Masters were so damned stubborn.
Ambrose returned with several silky-looking scarves.
“No, Master, not scarves!” she begged in a mocking tone. “What’s my safeword again? I’m so scared.”
He grumbled something about bratty slaves needing to be taught when to keep their mouths shut, but she stood on her toes and kissed his jaw, then down the side of his neck. He gave an un-Domly purr, and didn’t object when her hand groped at his hard-on. He bit her hard on the neck, and dry humped her against the column, frustrating the hell out of her. She felt a certain amount of satisfaction over the fact that he seemed to be suffering as much as she was.
Desire spiked, and she wondered if she could convince him to forget about fancy bondage shit and just bang her already.
Ambrose spread a staying hand across her upper chest and pulled away from her. “Bad girl. Quit tempting me.”
“But, Master, what kind of slave would I be if I didn’t tempt you?” she simpered up at him, batting her lashes. “I live only to please you.”
He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head in exasperation. He tied one end of a scarf around her wrist, put it through something above her head, then pulled. Her arm was hauled upward, and he tied the free end to her other wrist. She felt like a sacrifice left for the minotaur. When she looked up to see what he’d looped the scarf through, there was a suspicious-looking O-ring conveniently anchored there. It didn’t seem to serve any other practical purpose.
“You like that? I put that there just for you, for this.” He stepped back and thoroughly eye-fucked her.
She quivered, frowning, ready to start begging.
“Shh. Not much longer, sweet girl.”
He gagged her with the next scarf, tying it behind her head, and used another long one to tie her ribcage against the column, so she was well and truly stuck.
The last length of fabric he shook out and showed to her. “Do you trust me? Can I blindfold you?”
She nodded.
