I rotated on the balls of my feet and faced him. He attempted to hide a smirk, but the way his lips twitched and his eyes sparkled like diamonds, told of his failure. I suppressed a curse. “You’ve bought it! Jason, that’s ridiculous. Buying a painting off your own wife.” I screwed my hands into fists. Why hadn’t he told me!
“I wanted it.”
“Where are you going to put it?”
“In my office, at work. Or maybe in my Frankfurt office.”
“Oh, so not at home?”
“You said you had two more, so keep them at home. Don’t sell them. In fact, you can’t sell anything without my permission.” My jaw dropped then snapped shut, dampening down an exclamation of disapproval. If we hadn’t been in public, I might not have held my annoyance back. Jason continued, unperturbed by my muted display of defiance. “End of the matter. I don’t want to have to buy up all of your collection. Ask me first before you exhibit anything of yours. You can give your reasons, and I will approve or veto them.”
I scowled. He was taking the rules into a new area. “Do my pictures belong to me or you?”
“I’ve thought this through since yesterday. You are mine, babe, and then there is your creativity, which is beyond my control. However, that doesn’t mean I won’t have a say in what you do with that creative output. I’m not stopping you displaying or selling. I simply want a say in what you offload.”
“That’s it? I’m to stash stuff in the attic to collect dust. Forbidden to make a name for myself. Is that what this is about, my status?” I hissed, leaning forward on tiptoes.
Jason pulled one of his sterner expressions, lowering his eyebrows. “Gemma. Listen carefully. I am not saying you can’t exhibit or sell your artwork. What I trying to say is, I don’t want to lose those pictures I’ve come to adore, that represent the best in you. The Gondolier is special to us—we were there together, in Venice, conceiving our son. When I see your lovely painting, I’m with you again. So, please, consider my needs in this.”
I blinked back the tears, ashamed of my lack of thought—how Jason might perceive my paintings. I reached up and kissed his lips, openly in front of a small crowd. “I understand, Master,” I whispered. “I will cherish your opinion, as much as you cherish me.”
A short time after nine o’clock, we locked the main door and tidied up. Jason supervised the caterers as they boxed up the glassware and plates. The empty wine bottles vanished, as did the napkins and leftovers. At last, it was time to retreat. Malcolm offered to lock up and set the alarm system.
Arriving at the White House, I kicked off my heels and, with a gracious thank you, sent Clara on her way. I checked on Joshua, rolled up in his sleeping bag, thumb in mouth and favoured cuddly in his hand. Jason stood behind me, kissing my neck.
“He’s fine, Gemma. You can make it up to him on another day. I want you now. So come.”
I trembled as I undressed, fumbling with my suspenders and garter. Jason had stretched out on the bed, his jacket and tie gone, and he watched my little strip show. Once naked, I knelt in the middle of the room and waited.
I was tired, but that didn’t matter. My feet throbbed—unimportant. My reflection in the mirror portrayed me as bedraggled with strands of hair hanging down and my shoulders slumped, however, Jason had the ability to dig out my lust and recreate my sexy persona.
“You’ve done well, Gem. You should be proud.”
“Your support has been invaluable, and I’m very grateful.”
Rising off the bed, he walked over and stood over me. With his back to the lights, his shadow covered me like a blanket.
“Look at me,” he commanded. I gazed up, wanting to see those glorious blue eyes and feast upon their intensity, but found his face hidden by shadows. “You’re so beautiful,” Jason murmured.
He crouched and removed the clips from my hair, tossing them onto the tallboy behind him.
“Thank you, Master.” I quaked, not with fear, but the anticipation of his touch had provoked unbridled trepidation. I had no need to be afraid of Jason.
I cast my mind back, kneeling there at his feet, and thought about how much had happened since Joshua started to walk in the spring. The rules, amended and tightened, had scared me at first, now they seem a part of my daily life and a joy to me. My attempt at ordinariness had been swiftly put to one side when Jason reminded me I would always be extraordinary, both in my public and private lives. Yet, he had shown how ordinary his own family was behind the façade of wealth and power. Siblings who needed each other and, even if they shied away from Jason, he would always be there for them.
I basked, literally and emotionally, in the warmth of his protective shadow, yet still I’d managed to make my mark in the outside world. My career had given me the chance to blossom, and now I could call myself a professional artist and perhaps even an art dealer. Throughout the year, my artistic ambitions had been brought to fruition and alongside that particular journey, I had accomplished much with Jason. I recalled our collaring ceremony, how I had knelt at his feet, as I was now and as always, when in a position of deference, I waited on him—his words and actions.
“I’m going to start by fucking that mouth of yours.”
I couldn’t help but grin at his command because immediately it caused a flurry of butterflies and my pussy clenched. My hand reached out to his zipper, and I gazed up at his face. Without shifting my line of sight, I tugged on his zipper and from behind it sprung his glorious erection. My fingers wrapped around his cock, feeling the velvet texture, the dryness, which soon would be moist with my saliva. I opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue, and licked him from balls to tip, running my pink, soft flesh along his stark, sculpted veins.
He smirked. Touching my head, his hand drifted into the loose strands, and he twirled them about his fingers. With his grip established, he took control. I smothered my mouth about his cock, drew in my lips, and sucked.
New memories were shaped on the floor at his feet then others on the bed, adding to my endless collection of sexual delights. Each had a special place in my heart, even if the details were forgotten.
His lips caressed my soft flesh, teeth nipped and tongue swirled about my pussy. His fingers, such precise clever fingers, teased and tormented me, pushing me to the brink of an orgasm, then dragging me back in frustration. Throughout his little games, his amazing blue eyes dazzled, sparkled and shone. My belly filled with knots and fluttering butterflies, and at times ached with undelivered orgasms. Using his many implements, he criss-crossed my arse with welts, and yet he also took the time to rub, stroke, and massage away the worst of the pain.
If I had to pick one aspect of the evening to be my favourite, it was the constraints of bondage. His nimble fingers bound my limbs and torso with rope, packaging me into a netting. There was no room for escape. Jason had placed me in a state of helplessness then pierced me with his swollen cock. I relished the predicament. Orgasm after orgasm flew out of my sex, causing a thumping, rhythmic pulse, which was as strong as my heartbeat and spread to every morsel of my body.