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“Back straight. Don’t slouch. It breaks up the lovely lines of your body.”
She straightened and fought to stay still as he fondled her breast. She felt so exposed out here. Not like the studio. This space was more open, as if anyone could just wander by. Feeling watched, Saskia turned her gaze toward the house. A curtain covering a first floor window closed abruptly. Was Marcus watching her? Or one of the other servants?
“Do you like cucumber sandwiches?”
“Yes, Master.”
He broke off a piece of one of them and offered it to her. She reached out to take it, but he snatched the food away. “No. You’ll eat it from my hand like a good pet.”
All at once, any lingering bad feeling toward him evaporated. It was so hard to hold how much she’d thought she hated him in her mind when his very nearness made her feel weak and flushed. He alternated between feeding himself and feeding her. His hand lingered at her mouth after each bite he offered, so she could lick and kiss the stray bits of cream cheese from his fingers.
The outline of an erection pushed against his pants, and she had the sudden urge... to beg him.
“Drink?”
Oh yes, please.
But that wasn’t what he meant.
“Yes, Master.”
He held the goblet for her and tipped it back so she could drink. Then he offered her strawberries. It reminded her of Eric feeding her that strawberry that had seemed to materialize out of nowhere after the champagne at his party. But this... even if she hadn’t been kneeling naked at Quill’s feet under the open sky, the way he pressed food into her mouth, the way his fingers lingered, slipping between her lips... it was practically sex all by itself.
She found herself disappointed when they ran out of food but not because she was hungry. Her eyes strayed to his hard on.
Quill noticed. “Something you want?”
She nodded, suddenly feeling herself go shy under his gaze. She shouldn’t want it. She shouldn’t want him. She knew she was falling like a row of dominoes at his feet—exactly in the pattern he’d designed. Every part of her, except for the part between her legs, wanted to resist and fight him.
“Beg me.” He scooted the chair back and angled it toward her, opening his legs. It would only require crawling a mere few inches to be between his thighs.
She looked back down at the cushion. “I can’t.”
He cupped her chin and raised it so their eyes met. “I didn’t expect you to be so shy, particularly not after the captivating way you came for Marcus in the studio.” So he’d watched the video feed.
There was a softness to the way he touched and spoke to her. She’d do nearly anything to get more of that from him.
Saskia felt her face burn.
The curtain on the first floor was pulled back again. Saskia could barely make out an outline of a person standing in the shadows.
“Crawl behind me into the house.” When she hesitated, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll bandage up your scrapes.”
Quill rose from the chair and disappeared into the house. Saskia stared after him as if her brain had finally re-engaged to question what the hell she was doing. But after a split second of contemplation, she crawled over the terrace behind him and in through the French doors.
He led her to the study. Of course. The room she’d tried so hard to get away from him in. The room where her skirt riding a bit too high had once been scandalous, and him slipping his hand between her legs was the most lewd act imaginable. If only.
That room and this room were worlds apart.
Quill sat in the leather swivel chair and undid his pants.
“Now, you can have it, but you will worship it like it’s fucking God, do you understand little slut?”
“Yes, Master.” The nastier he spoke to her, the more aroused she became, and from the glint in his eyes, he knew it.
He was fully erect and seemed larger somehow than she remembered when she’d knelt in front of him. But the last time, she’d only tried to touch him from inside a cage. She could barely imagine how she would take him between her legs, let alone how she’d manage between her lips.
He stroked her hair. “I know it’s rather frightening, but you’ll find a way.”
