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It’s over quickly, and I’m a little confused. I half-hoped, half-feared he would bend me over and fuck me again during the shower. Instead, he turns the water off, steps out of the shower, dries himself off.
And then he reaches for me. “Come.”
I go to him without hesitation, stepping onto the bathmat and into the dry towel he’s holding up for me. With quick, efficient movements, he dries me, and then tosses the towels aside.
And then he does something completely unexpected—he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me out of the bathroom, past the bedroom where I spent the night, then into the hallway. I crane my neck to look around. Where is he taking me?
“I can walk, you know,” I say quietly.
I watch him out of the corner of my eyes and notice how the right side of his mouth slants up into a half -mile. Nevertheless, he doesn’t respond to my comment. He carries me down to an open door at the end of the hall, walks through and places me on the large bed.
Sitting up, I take in my surroundings. The room is huge, minimalist, decorated in black, white, and shades of gray. Fine art hangs on the walls, and there’s a sitting room to the right with a floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the beach and the relentlessly crashing ocean. It’s insanely beautiful.
Then it hits me. This is his bedroom.
“Why did you bring me here? I thought I wasn’t supposed to leave that other room?”
I get a nice view of his firm ass as he walks to the bed to pick up a remote. “Because...” he says as he presses a button to lower the shades on the windows, “I want you here with me. I know neither of us slept much last night.”
Pulling back the thick down comforter, he slides beneath, holding it open for me. I narrow my eyes, wondering what he has planned. Evan is twisted enough to lure me into his bed with the promise of sleep and then fuck me again for hours.
But when I join him under the covers, he turns me onto my side and tugs me against his warm body.
We’re spooning. I’m spooning with Evan Kohl.
Before I can even contemplate that crazy fact, he nestles his head in the crook of my neck, and we fall asleep.
We sleep for hours, it’s late afternoon once we finish napping. I awake to the feel of his skin pressed to mine, the feel of his fingers idly tracing patterns on my bare flesh. When my eyes flutter open, I see that he’s staring off into space, propped on his side with me pulled in as close as I can fit, flush against him.
“Mmm,” I say, snuggling in tighter to him. “This is nice.”
His vivid blue eyes snap back to the present, and he smiles down at me, bending to press a kiss to my forehead. “Yes, it is. Are you hungry?”
I smile. “Yeah…I could eat.”
“You would be eating regardless,” he said. “Master’s orders.”
Much to my surprise he instructs me to dress in my clothes from last night, handing them to me in a folded, laundered stack. “We’ll be going downstairs for a bit. I need to show you around, since you’ll be here for the week.”
I have to admit to some small relief that I won’t have to just sit inside the room the entire time I’m here as his house guest—or pet, or sex slave, or whatever it is that I am.
I hurriedly slip on my clothes from last night while he’s inside his giant walk-in closet. But my underwear is missing and I suspect that was no mistake. Instead of complaining to him, however, I end up going commando under the miniskirt. Oh well, at least the rest of me will be covered while out in public.
Though I had heard rumors of certain sections inside Exeter House where clothing was optional or even banned, sex dungeons, orgy clubs and what-have-you. Probably all salacious rumors only. Too bad.
Once dressed, I wait for Evan, standing with my hands clasped behind my back and my gaze on the ground. It’s stunning how naturally this comes to me now that I know what he expects. I don’t even have to think about it. He appears, dressed in jeans, flip-flops and a polo shirt, gorgeous as ever.
Then he takes a hairbrush from the bathroom counter and starts to brush my hair for me. I tilt my chin up, and he seems focused on getting every strand of my hair, arranging it around my shoulders. “There, all ready to go?”
I blink. “Uh…you forgot…” I reach up and tug at the collar.
He tilts his head and stares into my face, eyes intense. “I didn’t forget anything. But you just forgot to address me properly. I won’t tolerate that a second time.”
My eyes flick down to the carpet between us. “Forgive me, Master.”
He smooths my cheek. “Much better. As for your collar. That will stay on.”
“But…”
