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The table is set for an intimate meal for two and what appears to be shrimp cocktail waiting for us. He holds out a chair and says pleasantly, “Your table awaits.”
As I cross the room, I smile. “It appears you can even walk on water; I’m impressed.”
“You’d better believe it.”
As he pushes in my chair, he places a napkin on my lap and dusts my neck with his lips and a delicious shiver passes through me.
Trying so hard not to give him the reaction he wants, I lift my glass and take a swig, looking out across the skyline as he takes his seat opposite.
He starts to eat and I say in awe, “You have a lovely home, sir, or am I allowed to call you Dexter?”
“What do you want to call me?”
“Something else.” I grin and he laughs softly.
“I’m guessing I wouldn’t like it, so we’ll stick with Dexter outside the bedroom and office.”
Looking down, I realize I have no cutlery and as I look up, his wicked grin tells me it was no mistake, so I cock my head and shrug.
Spearing one of my prawns with his fork, he holds it against my lips and says huskily, “Eat.”
“You’re going to feed me. Why?”
“You’ll see.”
As my lips close around the fork, he says darkly, “Eyes on mine.”
As I chew, I stare into his eyes and almost drown with lust at the expression in them. Every movement I make seems to be turning him on, and I’m enjoying the power I appear to have over him.
He feeds himself and then me, and it becomes a delicious game in more ways than one.
I wonder if the main course will suddenly materialize like a feast at Hogwarts with the owls bringing it in and dropping it before us, so I’m surprised when the door opens and a uniformed waiter heads into the room and says reverently, “Allow me.”
He clears away the dishes and, as he works away, Dexter keeps my eyes fixed firmly on his with an unspoken command. By the time the waiter leaves the room, he has left a plate of what appears to be Lobster Thermidor and, once again, no cutlery for me.
Dexter feeds me slowly, and every mouthful is like a sex act. I actually squirm on my seat as I desperately try to remain indifferent, but by the end of the meal, we have spoken no words and just enjoyed a build-up of tension that will only end in one thing.
The music plays as the waiter returns and follows the same pattern and by the time he leaves, I’ve almost forgotten he was here at all because the whole time I have been concentrating on the man whose sole aim in life appears to be controlling me. It appears I can’t even look at anyone but him when he commands it and, far from feeling angry about that, it feels so sexy I can’t even breathe properly anymore.
He surprises me by saying, “Come here, Holly, and kneel at my feet.”
I don’t even question him, which shows what an idiot I am because not one hour ago I was answering back and proving how strong and independent I was. Now it all looks like a petulant childish act, as without hesitation, I kneel before him and he says gruffly, “Remove your dress.”
Looking out at the bright lights of the city, I wonder if someone has their binoculars trained on me right now, but something about the edge to his voice tells me not to raise any doubts.
So, I hold his eyes and remove my dress and as it falls to the fish tank floor, I feel like the little mermaid sitting on a rock.
“Lie back I want to see all of you.
This is the weirdest experience of my life—actually probably not after the cow prison incident, but I do as he says and it feels as if I’m in a blue lagoon.
He drops beside me and empties his dessert on my body and I become some super-sundae as the ice cream burns my body and the cream and sauce trickle down my breasts. He removes his top and my pupils dilate because that view will never get old and as he leans down and licks and bites the food from my body, I shiver with delight and a euphoria it appears that only sex can give me these days.
He takes his time and as soon as he’s finished, he stands and drops the sweat pants, leaving me under no illusion of what’s going to happen next. Then he says lustfully, “On all fours.”
Spinning around, I do as he says and as my own dessert hits the deck in a heap before me, he growls, “Lap it up.”
“What the…” He grabs my hair and pulls my head back sharply and hisses, “Your punishment for talking back to me, baby. I told you I control you and I won’t let you speak to me disrespectfully.
