I didn’t have long to think about it—Abigail and Elaina returned to the table moments later. A slight flush colored Abigail’s face. I wondered what Elaina had said while they were gone. What could have possibly caused Abigail embarrassment?
I held her chair out while she sat down. It was hard not to touch her—her dress dipped low enough at the back to show glimpses of her soft, feminine shoulders, and I wanted nothing more than to stroke the delicate skin there.
Later. You can do it later.
We finished dinner, and after the plates had been cleared, the band started playing. I wasn’t typically a dancer. I could count on one hand, with fingers left over, the number of times I’d asked a woman to dance. It just wasn’t my thing.
But this night was different. Abigail was different. I felt different.
And I wanted to dance.
So when a slow song started, I pushed back from the table and faced Abigail. “Will you dance with me?”
I wasn’t asking as a dom. I was asking as a date, and that was uncomfortable territory for me. What if she said no?
What if she said yes?
I heard Linda gasp across the table, and Elaina leaned over to whisper something to Todd.
Damn, crazy people.
But then Abigail took my hand and I didn’t care what anyone said or did anymore.
“Yes,” she said.
I slipped an arm around her once we reached the dance floor, pulled her close, and took her hand in mine. She trembled against me.
“Are you having a nice time?” I asked to calm her down.
“I am. Very nice.”
“Everyone is quite taken with you.” And so am I. I pulled her closer as the song continued. When we returned home, I’d show her just how much.
Later, I went with Todd and Jackson to get the coats while the women waited at the table. Todd punched me on the shoulder. “I like her,” he said.
“Abigail?” I asked.
“Felicia was nice as well,” he said. “But yes, I was talking about Abby.”
“Thanks,” I said, oddly pleased.
“Thanks, man,” Jackson said, coming up to me. “Felicia’s great.”
“Really?” I asked.
He just smiled. “And your Abby is something else as well.”
That she was.
Apollo ran up to us as I opened the front door. Abigail jumped back and I sighed. I needed to take him out before I could focus on Abigail.
“Keep the gown on and wait in my room,” I said. “The way you did in my office.”
Ten minutes later, I entered my bedroom to find Abigail standing with her head down. I got hard just looking at her.
I circled her slowly. Walking around her, noting the faint tremor of her body. I walked to her back and lightly traced the top of her gown, running my fingers over the very spot I’d wanted to touch earlier.
“You were spectacular tonight.” I leaned in and smelled her hair. Mmm. Ever so slowly, I took the pins from her wavy curls, watching as they bounced down to brush her shoulders. “And my family will talk about nothing but you now.”
She was still trembling. Was she scared?
“You pleased me tonight, Abigail,” I said, my lips so close to her skin, I could almost taste her. “Now it’s my turn to please you.”
I took her zipper and slid it down, then pushed the dress from her shoulders. I let myself kiss her, tasting the skin of her back. It was sweet, with just a hint of salt. She was trembling still, but I knew they were tremors of anticipation now.
The gown dropped to the floor and I carried her to the bed. “Lie down.”
She did as told, and I crawled to her and slipped off her shoes. I met her eyes before I bent down to kiss her ankle. She gasped.
As I trailed kisses up her leg, I remembered that no one had ever done this to her before. What the hell kind of men had she dated that never took the time to give proper attention to her pussy? How had they contained themselves?
I reached up to remove her panties.
She put a hand on my head. “Don’t.”
I gritted my teeth, but reminded myself that this was new and she was scared. “Don’t tell me what to do, Abigail.”
With one move, I slid the panties down her legs and settled myself between her knees. She was already wet. Wet and swollen.
I stared at her, ready to show her just how much she’d pleased me. Show her how she’d be rewarded when she pleased me.
I started with a kiss on her cl*t and she nearly jumped off the bed. Steady. I blew gently across her cl*t and then placed soft kisses up and down her slit. I took it slow and easy, waiting for her to get used to me. Wanting to savor the experience. Wanting to bring her pleasure.
Gently, I took my fingers and spread her, opening her completely for my tongue. With one long sweep, I licked her entire opening. She was delicious. Sweet as honey. I licked her again.
Mmmmm.
I pulled my lips from my teeth and nibbled on her gently. She was still sore—I needed to be gentle. Her legs started to close around my head and I pushed her knees farther apart. “Don’t make me tie you up,” I told her.
I continued with my mouth, lapping up her wetness, drinking every drop she had. I shifted my eyes upward and saw her clutching the comforter. Her legs shook as I nipped her swollen clit. She was enjoying herself—finally.
I doubled my efforts, slipping my tongue inside her while moving my hands up her body. I stroked her belly and made my way up to her breasts, brushing her nipples. She let out a startled gasp—her body taut.
Yes, my lovely. Come for me.
I sucked her cl*t into my mouth, grazing it gently with my teeth as I did so, licking right where I knew she wanted it most.
“Oh . . .” She arched her back, pushing herself toward me.
I ran my hands back down her torso and wrapped my arms around her thighs, holding her to me as her orgasm shuddered throughout her body.
She stayed motionless for several minutes, and I would have felt smug except I was hard as a rock. I sat up slowly and adjusted my pants.
“I think it’s time for you to go to your room,” I whispered.
“What about you? Shouldn’t we . . .”
“I’m fine.”
“But it’s my place to serve you.”
She wanted to please me. How did she not know that she had pleased me all evening long? That I wanted this moment to be about her? I wanted to show her our arrangement was more than her doing things for me—it was me taking care of her. She’d given me the responsibility of knowing what she needed, and tonight she needed unreciprocated pleasure.
“No,” I said. “It’s your place to do as I say, and I say it’s time for you to go to your room.”
She didn’t argue again, but slid off the bed and made her way out, closing the door behind her as she went. I groaned. Apollo was still out in the hall.
I stripped off my tux and made my way to my bathroom, where I turned the water on as hot as I could stand. I stood for several long minutes just letting the water wash over me, replaying in my mind the sight of Abigail cl**axing. I turned my face to the showerhead and remembered how it had felt the night before when she came with me deep inside her.
I took myself with both hands and closed my eyes.
She was bound in the playroom, bent over the padded table. We had been playing for hours and were both panting for release.
“Are you ready, Abigail?” I asked, brushing her backside with my cock.
“If it pleases you,” she said, voice strained with need.
I moved away from her so she would feel the cold air rush between us. “It pleases me for you to tell me what you want.”
“I want . . .”
“Tell me.”
She pushed her butt toward me. “I want your cock.”
I chuckled and leaned over her, pressing my chest to her back. “Of course you do. Tell me where you want it.”
Still silence.
I slapped her thigh. “Tell me or I’ll send you to your room with nothing.”
“In my ass,” she whispered.
“Louder.” I slapped her thigh harder. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Please, Master.” She spoke louder this time. “Please, f**k my ass.”
“As you wish,” I said, taking the lube and spreading it over my fingers. I lightly traced her opening before sliding first one and then two fingers deep inside her. She pushed back, wanting more. Wanting me.
“Patience.” I stretched her gently. “You have to have patience.”
When she was ready, I slowly slid the slick head of my c**k into her, pushing against the resistance and entering her fully. She moaned.
“Do you like my c**k up your ass?” I withdrew and entered her again. “You’re so f**king tight this way.” I pulled out. “You feel so f**king good.”
She pushed back against me, bringing me deeper into her, and threw her head back.
“Just like that, Abigail,” I said, moving faster. “So deep. Feels so good.”
She panted in pleasure.
“Fuck.” I thrust harder. “I’m coming. I’m going to fill up that pretty ass.”
I released into my hand with a grunt.
After I dried off, I crept into the hallway, where Apollo was still sitting quietly. Abigail’s door was closed. I walked down the stairs and to the library, Apollo by my side.
The library was one of my favorite rooms. It had been my parents’ favorite place in the house and I’d left it untouched since their deaths. Something told me Abigail would like the library as well and I decided to show it to her next weekend.
But right then I needed to play the piano. I sat down at the bench and let my fingers run up and down the keys, playing scales. Once I’d finished, I closed my eyes and imagined Abigail as she looked earlier—soft and yielding in my arms as we danced. Back arched and head thrown back as I pleasured her. I imagined her and let my hands play out the melody that swirled around in my head.
Abigail’s song.
Abby’s song.
Chapter Nine
Before I headed down to the gym the next morning, I took a minute to bring the whipping bench out of the playroom and into my bedroom. I felt it necessary—thinking of Abigail as Abby last night had confirmed for me that I needed to set the relationship right. I had been too generous—ignoring her slipups, hesitations, and attitudes. I’d never done that before and didn’t like what I was allowing Abigail to get away with.
I decided to give her a subtle warning. I’d show her the whipping bench—a reminder that I was her dominant and of my expectations. Perhaps it would be enough and a chastisement wouldn’t be necessary.
I took a plug from the playroom as well. My fantasy in the shower had further cemented my desire to show her the pleasure I could bring her. Pleasure she would not expect. I put the plug in my dresser along with a bottle of lube.
At seven o’clock, Abigail served me breakfast in the dining room. She poured a delicious-looking sauce over perfectly cooked French toast. I couldn’t wait to try a bite.
“Make yourself a plate and have a seat.” I ate while she went into the kitchen. Mmm . . . bananas. Damn, she could cook.
She sat back down at the table and started eating her own breakfast.
“I have plans for you today, Abigail. Plans to prepare you for my pleasure.”
For your pleasure.
“Yes, Master.”
“Eat, Abigail. You can’t serve me on an empty stomach.”
She ate a bit more then, but not a lot. Not nearly enough. I slowed my eating down to match her pace. We both finished around the same time, and she hopped up almost immediately to clear the table.
Yes, this will work fine. Just the sight of the whipping bench will be enough.
She walked back into the dining room and stood at my side. Her body trembled slightly.
“You have far too many clothes on,” I told her. “Go to my room and take them all off.”