Inside the bathroom, Catherine slowly took off her bra. She took her time and shored up her nerve, but when she felt moisture trickling down her thighs, she knew the truth. Dean could ask her nearly anything and she’d most likely say yes. She was that far gone over the man. Oh, she might’ve been somewhat scandalized when Dean had swatted her, but deep down in some secret part of her, Catherine had felt electrified at the first strike from the leather. Heck, it nearly made her come just thinking about it.
Catherine couldn’t afford to lose her composure though. She needed to remember the game. He was the master and she was the submissive. In the story, Mira had had almost more control over the game than her master, simply because if she weren’t so wiling, then the game would come to an end. Simple as that. Knowing that helped Catherine take off her skirt. When she recalled the feel of Dean’s hand as he’d touched her bottom, her clit swelled. Dean had been hugely aroused and ready to take her, she was sure of it.
Catherine forced erotic images of Dean’s rugged body out of her head and looked around the room. She saw a long, black nightgown hanging over the shower rod. She picked it up and looked it over. It was made of a stretchy mesh material, and it had clever patches of lace across the bosom and crotch area. She slipped it off the hanger and shimmied into it. The rich material slid over her body like a second skin. She looked into the freestanding cherrywood mirror in one corner of the room and was shocked by the sensual picture she presented.
“I cannot believe I’m going through with this,” she said to her reflection. She sighed and walked to the door. “Here goes nothing.”
When she entered the kitchen, Catherine immediately saw Dean seated at the table. His black robe had drifted open in the front, and she could see the curls littering his powerful chest, but the table hindered her view of the rest of him. God, she wanted him. A part of her ached to scrap the game in favor of making love. But as she looked into his eyes, she could see the gentle understanding in his gaze. He was all but waiting for her to back out. That single thought had her crossing the room.
She waited next to the chair, knowing he would need to give her permission before she took her seat. It pricked her feminine pride, and Dean’s grin told her he knew it. He took his time, looked her over, slowly, as if committing every curve and valley to memory, then smiled. “I had a feeling you’d look beautiful in that nightgown.”
She plucked at the expensive material and asked, “When did you have time to go shopping?”
“Today.”
“It must have been expensive though,” Catherine said, feeling a little giddy that he’d gone shopping for her.
He pointed to the chair across from him and said, “Have a seat, sweetheart.”
Catherine crossed her arms over her chest and stayed rooted to the spot. “I’m not real hungry, thanks.”
He smiled for the briefest of moments, but he swiftly schooled his expression. “Don’t force me to come over there and get you. The riding crop is only a few feet away.”
Catherine wasn’t going to think of him using that thing on her, because when she did her body responded with excitement. Instead, she stayed where she was and quirked a brow at him, egging him on the way a very naughty sub might.
“You need food, Catherine,” he said in a softer tone. “If you pass out on me, it’ll put a real cramp in the evening’s fun, don’t you think?”
Forgetting the role she was supposed to be playing, Catherine said, “I’m going to need my energy, is that it?”
“Definitely,” he growled. “Lots and lots of energy.”
Catherine dropped her arms and sat in the chair. She tucked her gown around her legs, hoping to maintain at least a modicum of modesty. Dean picked up his napkin, placed it across his lap, and began to eat what appeared to be some sort of stew. Catherine inhaled the rich aroma and her stomach growled obscenely. She blushed.
One corner of his mouth tilted up, indicating he’d heard her body’s plea for food. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”
She didn’t much care for the way he told her what to do. One half of her got annoyed at being ordered about, while the other half seemed aroused by it.
Catherine picked up her spoon and took a small bite, but when the steaming hot liquid burned her tongue, she dropped it back into the bowl. “It’s too hot,” she mumbled as she frowned at him.
Dean’s heated gaze held her in place as he stared at her mouth. He leaned forward and picked up her spoon, then scooped up some of the stew. She watched, helplessly mesmerized as he blew on it, all the while his gaze never leaving her face. When he was satisfied, he held it to her lips and ordered, “Open up, Catherine.”
She did.
It was odd to have a man feed her. Somehow, the act seemed more intimate than having sex. Catherine chewed the bits of meat and vegetables and swallowed, surprised when he leaned forward and wiped at a drop of beef broth from her lips. He brought the droplet to his own mouth and sucked it off. Her body thrummed to life.
They finished the rest of their meal in silence. Catherine suspected he was giving her time to prepare for what was yet to come. She was just glad to have food in her belly. It was strange how hungry she’d been. She’d eaten lunch with Gracie, but she’d been too nervous about the evening to come to eat more than a few bites of grilled chicken and a side salad. Now the food and the silence had the affect of calming her nerves. When Catherine dared to glance at him, watching as he bit off a piece of French bread, she knew she was in big trouble. Becoming woefully attracted to a man she was going to have to leave tomorrow wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done.
Suddenly, Dean swiped the napkin across his mouth and shoved back his chair. Towering over her, he reached out a hand to her and asked, “Ready?”
Catherine gulped back a bit of stew. “Ready for what, exactly?”
“To be my little submissive,” he murmured.
Oh, God, why did that make her pussy throb with pleasure? “You’re awfully familiar with this sort of thing,” she said, hoping to get her mind off her raging hormones. “Why is that, I wonder?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” he said around a grin. “Let me ask you one this time. Did you enjoy the riding crop?”
Catherine stayed silent. No way was she giving him that kind of information.