“But first, we eat. Don’t eat too much. I want you to have energy, but not to feel full. I don’t want you uncomfortable in any way tonight.”
“All right. It smells divine. What are we having?”
“Something simple. Lasagna. We’ll each eat a small portion, and there will be plenty of leftovers if we’re hungry afterward.” He lowers his eyelids slightly. “You’ll be hungry, Skye. You’re going to use a lot of energy tonight.”
I nod hesitantly. “Whatever you want, Braden. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Marilyn makes excellent lasagna.”
“I’m sure Marilyn makes excellent everything.”
He leads me to the dining room, where the table has already been set. Two glasses of red wine sit beside the plates, and the lasagna is covered. An Italian loaf with olive oil for dipping, and a small green salad.
That’s it.
And it’s perfect.
Braden pulls out my chair, and I sit, very aware of my nudity and even more aware of the pressure of the plug in my ass. My nipples are hard and turgid, and they don’t escape his gaze. Are you going to get undressed?
The words don’t make it past my lips, though.
This isn’t about what I want.
Except that it kind of is.
Both Braden and Rosa taught me that. I have power in this relationship as well. Right now, I’m exercising my power to not speak. To not ask Braden whether he’s planning to shed his clothes. Because ultimately it doesn’t matter. Ultimately, we’re going to end up in the bedroom where he’ll take my anal virginity.
How we get there isn’t up for debate, and I’m okay with that.
Braden sits across from me and serves me a small square of the lasagna. The salad has already been plated, and a slice of bread sits on my bread dish. Then he serves himself.
This is a casual meal. Normally we’d eat our salad first, but tonight it’s all served together. I smile. He’s doing this for me. To make me comfortable. Even though I’m naked, he’s making this casual for me.
“Dig in,” he says from across the table.
I begin with a forkful of salad. It’s dressed with a honey-vinaigrette that sparks my tastebuds. Nicely done, Marilyn. I pull off a piece of my bread and dip it in the olive oil. More deliciousness and again my tastebuds react to a tang. The olive oil has been infused with something spicy, most likely cayenne or jalapeño with a touch of garlic.
And then the lasagna. The sauce is acidic with a hot spiciness due again to hot pepper. Something I wasn’t expecting. This evening’s meal seems to have a theme. Spicy.
Just like what’s coming in the bedroom.
Braden was right about only eating small portions. Too much spiciness could cause gastric distress, which would put a major damper on the evening. Yet the tang of the food will also enhance what’s to come.
He thinks of everything.
Braden raises his glass of wine. “To discovery.”
I pick my glass up and clink it against his. “To discovery.” Then I take a sip. The wine perfectly complements the meal, as usual. Its acidity and lusty spiciness is perfect.
“What wine is this?” I ask.
“It’s a Brunello di Montepulciano from Italy, made from the Sangiovese grape.”
“It’s wonderful. So juicy and spicy. Perfect with this meal.”
He nods and takes another sip. “Eat slowly. We’ll only have one glass of wine, as well.”
“Okay.”
I’m so ready. So compliant. I think he could tell me to do anything right now and I’d do it.
Submission is a wonderful feeling. To give myself over to another person I trust… Never in a million years would I have thought I’d find it so rewarding.
I take dainty bites of my food. I finish all of my salad, most of my bread, and half of my lasagna.
I pat my lips with my napkin and then rest it on the side of my plate.
Braden meets my gaze, his eyes heavy-lidded. “Are you ready, Skye?”
“Yes, Braden. I’m ready.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
My eyes pop into circles when I enter Braden’s bedroom.
Candlelight emits a soft glow, and something occurs to me. I’ve never before seen a candle anywhere in Braden’s place. Never. In fact, at our first dinner in New York, he asked the waiter to take the candle away from the table.
I never gave it a thought, but it makes perfect sense to me now, knowing how fire devastated his family.
This is for me. He’s given me candlelight, to make the mood romantic.
And if it’s possible, I fall in love with him even more.
He cups my cheek. “I was ready to take your ass that night at the club, but in retrospect, I’m glad it didn’t happen there.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” He thumbs my lower lip.
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? This is where we should engage in that intimate act for the first time. That’s not to say we won’t do it at the club, too, but for the first time, we should be here, in an environment where you’re the most comfortable. Where you feel safe.”