“A little, Master. But it feels good too.”
He palmed her breast as she shifted, turning to him with a small square of food between her fingers. “Feed yourself first. I love watching you eat.”
She paused. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit, but hunger trumped surprise. The square disappeared into her mouth. She grabbed another and offered it to him. He made sure to catch her fingertips, sucking them lightly as he accepted the food. Her eyes widened even more, and the fresh scent of her musky arousal reached his nose.
They ate in silence, feeding more than their stomachs. By the time they’d cleared the plate of food, Sean’s erection rested against Marcella’s leg and her juices wet his thigh.
“Straddle me.”
He took his cock in hand as she stood and arranged her legs on either side of the chair. She gripped his shoulders for balance, and he held her hips because if he didn’t, he would go insane. Wordlessly she eased that velvet warmth down his cock.
“Ride, Cella. We don’t have much time, and I want to see you come.”
“Yes, Master.”
She rose up and slammed down. Shocks of pleasure gathered at the base of his spine and tingled outward. He concentrated on the sensuous slide of her skin over
his,
reveling in all the ways her scent and touch intoxicated him. She gyrated and undulated, racing her way to orgasm and taking him with her. Her head fell back, and her eyes closed. Sean watched, fascinated by his beautiful slave, and he fell completely in love. Maybe he’d been in love with her all along, but this was the first time he allowed himself the freedom to bask in it. The stakes rose. Not only did he need her to admit she couldn’t live without him, he needed to know she felt the same way about him.
Those thoughts shoved to the back burner when her sheath clamped around him. White edged his vision, and he fought the urge to climax. He pressed his palms into her breasts, flattening the tissue. Her body jerked, and she pushed against him, flattening them even more. He knew her sensitized, abused nipples had to ache, and he marveled at her enjoyment of this sweet pain. She might not like the whip, but he was learning what other kinds of pain she liked. He filed this knowledge away as her rhythm faltered.
“Come for me, Cella.”
The impending orgasm drawing up his balls pressed him to do something, but he resisted helping her to regain the rhythm. He could have released her breasts to guide her hips, but he wanted to know how much control she wielded over her pleasure. She drew in a ragged breath and ground against him. The crude gyration pushed her over the edge. Her silky pussy pulsed, creating a vacuum that pulled at his own pleasure. She cried out, and he came with her.
She slumped against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her body, holding her while they both shivered and convulsed with aftershocks. He drew his fingertips up and down her back until she settled into his embrace.
Things had changed between them, irrevocably shifted, and he didn’t know the rules of their new relationship. The mild possessiveness he’d always felt toward her grew, crystallizing into something hard and unyielding. He hadn’t wanted to use her in the benefit at all, and now he found it more difficult than ever to picture following through with their plan. The idea of sharing something so intimate with spectators left a sick and prickly feeling in his stomach.
However, he had promises to keep, and he could trust her to hold him to his word. Whether he wanted to do the benefit or not, she had committed herself, and she wasn’t the kind of woman who went back on her promises. He had to honor that.
Didn’t he?
Shaking away that thought, he kissed the top of her head. “Well done, my beautiful slave. Now go get dressed. I might like to see you naked, but I want it to be for my eyes only. Wear a skirt that stops above your knees. No underwear.”
She started at his pronouncement, and he used a kiss to silence her before she could utter a word. If he tried to rationalize his declaration, she would realize the reasons for his reticence, and she would put an end to their blissful day. If he betrayed her trust by refusing to use her, he would lose her completely. Somehow he had to find the courage to push aside his desires and do the right thing.
Swiping the robe from where it had fallen on the floor, he grunted. He held the robe open. After she threaded her arms through the appropriate holes, he tied the sash.
“Fuller will likely stay for dinner. Whether he does or not, you will sit on my lap and feed me as you did this afternoon. Do you understand?”
Her eyes widened, and he knew visions of the way she had ridden him afterward occupied her thoughts. “Do you want me to call you ‘Master’ or ‘Sean’ while he’s here?”
A grin split his face so wide it ached. The way she said his name had changed, subtly altered to reflect his new role in her life. “It doesn’t matter which you use when we’re not in this dungeon.” He would use her choice of address to gauge her mood and her receptiveness. “Now go get cleaned up. I’ll expect you to sit in on the meeting. I need my assistant with me.”
Really he didn’t. He just wanted her close to him.
She bowed her head, inclining it as a show of deference. “Yes, Sean. I’ll be ready.”
* * * *
Marcella shivered as the lace on her pink bra brushed against her swollen nipples. He’d left the clamps on so
long,
they were going to be sore for at least a day. They’d heal just in time for the performance. A note of panic thumped deep in her chest. She didn’t want to be put on display, but if that was the only way she could be with Sean, then she would do it. At least he’d promised to blindfold her. She hoped to God she didn’t disappoint him.
She tugged a shirt over her head. The soft fibers of the fabric caressed her shoulders and chest as the shirt fell into place. After her session with Sean, every nerve in her body stood at attention, overreacting to the slightest stimulation. Glancing in the mirror, she smiled. Light pink suited her. The low-cut neckline plunged so far it nearly revealed the place between her breasts where her bra came together.
Would wearing a bra earn a punishment? She frowned. He hadn’t said anything about it one way or the other. Beneath her skirt, which fell to midthigh, she wore nothing. Those had been his only instructions.
She ran a brush through her hair and slipped on a pair of sandals. Sean’s reasons for wanting her at the meeting remained a mystery. He didn’t need her there. Though the meeting had been a scheduled event, Fuller was Sean’s best friend. The two of them were apt to spend far more time discussing matters not related to business than planning their new movie project.
Voices in the foyer drew her notice as soon as she came down the stairs. Fuller Dunne’s deep baritone had always garnered attention. A man with a voice that deep was extremely rare. Marcella preferred the pitch of Sean’s voice, which wasn’t so deep that it reduced to a rumble when he lowered his volume.
Fuller had made a career out of his unique voice. In addition to acting, producing, and directing, he enjoyed the benefits of a lucrative contract as a paid spokesperson for a prominent insurance company.
The man towered over Sean by a few inches. He wore jeans and a startling pink button-down shirt. Friendly blue eyes sparkled from beneath blond bangs that fell over his forehead, and a smile split his face when he caught sight of Marcella.
“Marcella! This is a treat. I almost never get to see you.” He held out his hand as if he wanted to shake, but Marcella knew his game. Once he had her hand, he would pull her close for a hearty embrace.
She opened her arms and slipped into his welcoming hug. “It’s good to see you, Fuller. How was New York?”
“Fabulous, but it’s good to be home.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek and released her.
The strange expression on his face as he stepped back made Marcella glance over her shoulder at Sean, who was frowning. She started, unsure of what had caused him to react that way. Fuller had hugged her in greeting from the first time they’d met. He often flirted with her as well. She didn’t take it personally. Fuller flirted with everyone.
“Marcella, go make your phone calls and then meet us in the living room.” Sean’s tight voice matched the way he pressed his lips together. He turned and headed across the foyer. “And lose the shoes.”
She glanced down at her strappy sandals and up at Fuller. He shrugged and spread his hands. “Has he been in a bad mood all day?”
Marcella shook her head. For a man who’d enjoyed three orgasms, he sure didn’t seem to feel the calm relaxation that was supposed to follow.
“Well, we’ll see if I can find out what crawled up his butt before you finish with your calls.” He patted her on the shoulder and brushed past to follow Sean.
By the time she had confirmed the caterer, straightened out a problem with the menu, and put out fires with the florist and the cleaning service, nearly an hour had passed. She entered the living room on silent, bare feet.
The living room had been done by a decorator whose tastes ran opposite to Marcella’s. White and cream furniture filled the room. Cream-colored, textured wallpaper coated the walls. The crown molding and all the wood furniture in the room had been painted white. Marcella thought it looked like an angel had exploded and left its mark all over the place, and not in a good way. This room did not suit Sean at all.
He sat on the center cushion of a large, deep sofa. When he saw Marcella, he scooted back and slung his arm over the top of the back cushion. She settled next to him in the place he’d so casually indicated.
She wanted to curl her feet under her bottom, but she sank down too deeply into the cushion to make that comfortable. Sean took her laptop and put it on the white, painted table in front of them. She opened her notebook and clicked her pen.
Glancing up, she spied Fuller sprawled in an oversize armchair. The damn thing nearly swallowed up the big man, yet he looked comfortable. He threw an amused grin in her direction. When Sean lifted her feet and turned her so that they lay in his lap, Fuller burst out laughing.
“Well, that explains a lot. It took you long enough.”
Marcella fought a blush. She hadn’t expected Sean to do anything that would indicate they had done a scene—not yet, anyway. “Sorry. There were a few issues with the benefit I had to see to.”
“He didn’t mean you.” Sean rubbed his palm over the top of her foot. All tension left his shoulders. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Is there anything I need to do?”
She shook her head and flashed a smile. “You just show up and do your thing. I’ll handle the rest. That’s why you have me.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply. She had made similar comments many times. Before, he had at least smiled in response. Now he looked away. “Fuller has an idea for spending more of my money. I want you to listen and take notes.”
His cool response to her smile left her feeling a little uncertain. Under other circumstances, she might have said something about how Fuller always made Sean’s money back tenfold, but now she said nothing.
At Sean’s nod, Fuller explained the plot of his latest idea. Despite Marcella’s reluctance to banter with either of them, she felt herself opening up in the face of Fuller’s obvious passion. The relationship between the hero and heroine of the screenplay sounded like it would make for an entertaining, passionate, and sometimes funny action-romance. Soon she found herself commenting on his ideas and offering alternatives.
Conversation flowed and time flew. Sean’s hands moved constantly over her feet and calves. He caressed up as high as her knee. Marcella liked the possessiveness of his actions. Fuller’s eyes followed the movement every now and again, but he didn’t say anything.
When the chef’s assistant came in to announce dinner, Marcella’s gaze flew to the white clock on the white mantelpiece. It chimed six as she looked at it.
Fuller pushed to his feet. He stretched and yawned. “I think it’s time for me to hit the road.”
Sean patted her ankle, a dismissive gesture. Marcella drew her legs back and put her feet on the ground. She tried to stand, but her muscles were too relaxed to respond immediately. Closing her notebook and stacking it on her laptop bought her some time.
“Actually, I’d like you to stay. If you haven’t already figured it out, Marcella has agreed to be my sub for the benefit. Only she’s never done anything in front of an audience.”
Fuller’s brow, two shades darker than his fair hair, rose. “You want me to watch?”