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ChapterEleven
Ava
At four o’clock, after I’ve spent an hour having my hair and makeup professionally done, including the application of some fake lashes that make my eyes look huge and sultry, I tentatively knock at the door of the suite where the boudoir photos are supposed to be taken.There’s a muffled “come in,” so I turn the knob and let myself in.Roman is already there, sitting on one of the sofas, and he stands as I walk in.Although he’s wearing a button-down shirt, the sleeves are rolled up and my breath catches at the sight of his tanned muscular arms, unbidden thoughts of the way those muscles contracted as he pulled his belt off last night crowding my thoughts.There may be nothing sexier than a man in rolled-up shirt sleeves.
“Ava.”He inclines his head slightly in my direction.
“Sir,” I return with a small smile.I had meant it as a joke, but his eyes light up with such pleasure and desire that I wish I’d meant it.Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try to act a little more submissively with him.
“I ...I’m sorry I hit you yesterday,” I say.
“Apology accepted,” he says, his smile growing wider.Oh God.It’s a good thing he doesn’t smile like that often or I’d be a lost cause.
I look at him from beneath my impossibly long fake lashes, suddenly curious what would have happened if things had gone differently.After all, he had already ordered me up to our suite with that dangerous look in his eyes before I had slapped him.“What were you going to do if I hadn’t done that?”I ask, suddenly curious.
“Give you an orgasm so powerful and mind blowing that you couldn’t remember anyone’s name but mine.”His voice is perfectly even, his eyes dark and intense.
“But ...you still did that.”I blush, remembering exactly what he’d done to me.
“Ah, that was nothing, Ava,” he says with a small smile.“Nothing but a taste.”
I swallow hard.“Oh.”
His voice lowers seductively.“You have no idea the things I can do to you.That I will do to you.If you cooperate and behave like a good little sub, that is.”The door opens and the photographer walks in.Roman’s voice becomes brisk and businesslike.“Go change for the photo shoot.”He hands me several hangers and nods toward bathroom.“Start with this.”
I walk into the bathroom, grateful for the fact that I wasn’t expected to undress in the middle of the suite while Roman and the photographer watched.However, after I put on the lingerie Roman bought me, I realize it wouldn’t have made much difference.The panties are white and lacy and cut so that my butt is almost fully exposed.The matching bra forces my breasts up, creating cleavage I didn’t know I had, and just barely covers my nipples.If I move just right, I’m definitely going to have a wardrobe malfunction.
I slowly walk back out into the suite, aware of Roman’s heated gaze as it roves over me.The photographer sizes me up appreciatively.
“She is as beautiful as you said,” he says to Roman in a thick Italian accent.“She is yourschiava, yes?”
“My schiava?”Roman looks amused.“Yes, she is my slave girl.”He holds out his hand and I take it tentatively.
“Why do you keep calling me your slave girl?”I mutter under my breath.
His lips quirk up.“What do you think you are?”
“We’re partners,” I reason.
“Partners, huh?”
I nod.
He takes a step closer and cups my cheek with his hand, his thumb brushing over my lips.
“Who bought you?”he asks, his voice husky.
“You did,” I whisper.
He leans forward, trailing his soft lips up the line of my jaw.My breath hitches.
“And who makes the rules?”he murmurs, his breath hot in my ear.
“You do,” I manage.
He sucks the lobe of my ear into his mouth, his teeth nipping it lightly before releasing it to press a kiss at the tender spot just behind my ear.“And who abides by them?”he rasps.
“Me?”
