He comes back with the box of strawberry Pocky and hands it to me, and I nibble them while nestled into him.
As the credits role he looks at his watch. “Bedtime for you.”
I’m quite tired and go obediently with him as he shows me where the toothpaste is and where I can store my hairbrush. “Come get me when you’re ready to be tucked in.”
I do, and he helps me into his enormous bed. The sheets are fine and white and the duvet is filled with feathers and feels like a cloud.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.
“Work. Think about you. Mostly think about you.” He leans down and kisses me. “Night night, princess.”
I feel warm and safe as I snuggle down into his big bed. There are the sounds of him moving about beyond the door, the quiet drone of a news program.
A few hours later I half wake as he slips into bed. He’s naked, and wraps himself around me and kisses my neck. “Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, and my eyes close again.
* * *
We wake up face-to-face, the dawn light slanting dove-gray through the window. His eyes open a few seconds after mine. Wordlessly he reaches for me, kissing me while his hands roam up my hips and over my ribs. When he thumbs my nipples I arch against him. It seems to do something to him and he rolls on top of me with a growl, his knees between my thighs. I find myself pinned beneath him, legs spread. He’s holding my arms above my head and his eyes are dark. I’m completely at his mercy.
“I want you to,” I whisper. I know it will hurt but I like him to hurt me.
But he just kisses me. “Not yet, babygirl. I just wanted to see how you looked like that.” He moves down between my legs, spreads me open with his fingers and licks me. I cry out and bury my hands in his hair. When I’m close to coming, he reaches up and pinches a nipple and it pushes me over the edge.
I lie there gasping, looking at the ceiling, not able to believe how lucky I am. When I reach for him he is hard and thick in my fingers, but he just kisses me and gets out of bed.
“But what about you?” I ask, looking at the hard length of him.
“What, this?” he asks, looking down at himself as if he hasn’t noticed his arousal. He rubs the back of his neck. I am coming to adore that gesture, and it looks especially sexy when he’s bed-rumpled and naked. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ve got breakfast to make.” He grabs a robe from the back of the door and pads through to the kitchen.
“Strawberry milk?” I call hopefully after him.
“You’re cute, princess.”
Dammit.
I lay in the big bed a few minutes longer, starfishing and looking at his things. There’s a bottle of cologne on the tallboy and a bowlful of cuff links. Underneath the dresser is a row of leather shoes. Lifting my arms up above my head, I stretch, and my wrist bumps against the bed frame. I’m admiring it when I remember the rope that he gave me yesterday. I guess that he picked this bed design for a reason, and I feel a twinge of jealousy wondering who else he’s had in it. Other subs, or perhaps girlfriends that he’s persuaded to do kinky things with him. I like that he’s so sure of himself and knows what he’s doing when he touches me and dominates me, and that can only come from practice, but I’m possessive of him already.
I can hear him whistling and the smell of coffee brewing, so I pull on his shirt from the previous day—which I locate in the dirty clothes hamper, of course—and some pink underwear and wander through to the kitchen. I’ve left the shirt open and the sleeves hang over my hands. I am hoping he’ll tell me I’m cute.
He does, and pulls me up onto a granite worktop to watch him. There is a carton of eggs by my thigh and a loaf of sourdough in a paper bag that looks like it’s come from a bakery and not a supermarket, and he’s chopping fruit.
“Wow, this looks super healthy,” I say.
“No kidding,” he says, smiling. “Coffee?”
I shake my head, so he pours me a glass of milk. Plain milk. “Can I have juice?”
“All that sugar on an empty stomach? I don’t think so. Have a strawberry.” And he pops one into my mouth.
We eat at the kitchen table, a boiled egg and soldiers for me, and poached eggs on toast for him with three cups of coffee. Fruit salad for both of us, and he serves mine in an adorable little Japanese bowl.
When I’ve eaten two soldiers dipped in runny egg yolk and half my fruit, I sit back, turning my hands this way and that and looking at them in mock wonder. “My god. All these vitamins. My body doesn’t know what to do with them.”
He glances at my plate. “You could try and eat a little more, but I suppose even that small amount is better than what you usually have. What do you do in the mornings when you’re at home?”
“I work on my flexibility for a while, and then I read my e-reader or...read the financial news on my phone.” I put my forefinger between my lips and bite it so he knows I’m kidding.
“Oh, finance, of course. What do you really do on your phone?”