Letting go of Serena would be hard, but he would do it. Keeping a woman tied to him when she had no wish to be there wasn’t something he wanted any more than he wanted to contemplate the idea that he’d never find a woman who could love and accept him even knowing what he’d demand from her.
Carol returned with his glass of wine, and he sat sipping as he stared into the fire. His book, now forgotten, was laid carelessly over his lap, marking a place he had no intention of returning to.
Feeling the need to touch Serena, he slid the balls of his feet over her satiny skin, tracing the line of her spine and then the curve of her hip and her small waist. Her hair spread out behind her, a splash of midnight, inky and smooth, like liquid silk.
He would definitely see to her hair every day. It was a joy he had no intention of denying himself. He would be the one to wash it when she bathed, and he would dry it and comb through every single strand.
The fire had died down to a bed of glowing coals, but he couldn’t make himself get up to go add more logs. He was content where he sat, his woman across his feet where he could feel every breath she took, every little sigh and twitch.
Shadows crossed the room as dusk fell, sweeping softly over fading daylight. A single lamp illuminated the room, casting a glow over Serena’s sleeping form. As if wakened by the warm fingers of light, she stirred beneath his feet.
He watched her shake off the web of sleep and slowly raise her head. She turned immediately as though in search of him. Their gazes connected and satisfaction coiled deep in his chest that her first waking thought had been of him.
“Come to me,” he whispered, holding out his hand to her.
She blinked away the last vestiges of fatigue, and her eyes brightened and glowed in the soft light. She got to her knees and slid her hand into his.
For a moment he merely enjoyed that first touch, the tingle that slithered up his arm, bathing his skin in prickles of awareness. Then he pulled her upward and coaxed her onto his lap.
She settled into his chest, snuggling like a kitten seeking warmth. He wrapped both arms around her, holding her close. To his surprise, her lips nuzzled against his neck, pressing tiny kisses to his skin.
“Are you hungry?” he murmured.
“Starved.”
“Carol will be bringing our food any time now.”
He slid one hand over the curve of her hip and to the softness of her buttocks. His fingers glanced off the plug, and she tightened against him.
“Does it hurt you?” he asked as he traced the edge of the plastic.
She shook her head against him.
“I’ll remove it when we go to bed,” he said.
Unable to resist, he brushed his lips across her forehead. In response, she tilted her face up, a clear invitation for him to taste her lips.
Sweet, like licking a drop of syrup from a spoon. Her taste was familiar to him yet each time was like the first. Exciting and electrifying.
Her fingers fluttered to his jaw, stroking and touching him as he deepened the kiss. When she started to withdraw, he put his hand to cover hers, pushing her back to his face. He enjoyed her touch. Needed it.
A part of him long buried beneath ice thawed whenever her warmth enveloped him. The aching part of his soul eased. She was his comfort when he’d long decided he would have none.
A sound behind them caused him to pull away. He glanced behind him to see Carol standing in the doorway with a dinner cart.
He motioned her forward then arranged Serena in a position that afforded her the most modesty, despite his earlier assertion that she would grow to ignore the presence of others.
Carol poured wine into the glasses, uncovered the plates and then briskly walked back out of the living room.
The enticing aroma of the food wafted through his nostrils. Next to him, Serena shifted and sighed in contentment as she too caught the smell.
He reached out to pull the cart a little closer to the chair. As he’d requested, Carol had prepared an array of finger foods. Shrimp. Decadent pieces of scallop and lobster drenched in butter. Crabcakes and grilled salmon.
“Mmm, I love seafood,” Serena said.
He took a piece of the lobster and held it to her mouth. He coaxed her lips open and left the morsel on her tongue. Before he could take another piece of the food, she sat up and reached for the plate to choose an offering.
She picked a shrimp and held it to his mouth. He opened and allowed her to feed it to him, her fingers brushing like fire across his tongue.
They fed each other in silence, taking turns offering food from their fingers. Their gazes never left each other for long, only to take the next bite and return with a smoldering blaze.
When at last the food was gone, Serena laid her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.
“Full?” he asked as he stroked her hair.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“You sound . . . content.”
She raised her head just so she could see him. His hand stayed tangled in her hair and continued its downward trek.
“I am.”
Her husky sweet voice stirred a longing inside him that had nothing to do with sex or the urge to bury himself deep inside her. It was more. Something just out of his reach that he was at a loss to explain.
“I’m glad.”
He pulled her back to him, letting her softness mold to his body. Against his neck, she yawned and snuggled sleepily into his arms.
“Why don’t I take you to the bedroom and remove the plug? You can have a long soaking bath, I’ll wash your hair and we can have an early night.”
She stilled against him and then once again, she pulled away to stare at him with confused eyes.
“You’re asking?”
He smiled. “Not everything is a dictate, Serena mine. I’m a reasonable man when it suits me.”
She answered his smile with one of her own. “Then yes, I’d love a long, hot bath.”
CHAPTER 20
Damon glanced over at Serena sleeping beside him in the bed. Only the lamp to his side illuminated the room and even then he tilted the shade away so the light didn’t shine directly on her and disturb her sleep.
He’d removed the plug and then drawn her a hot bath. She’d soaked for half an hour before he’d helped her out, dried her and then saw to her hair. He could see the surprise in her eyes when he simply put her to bed without any sexual overtures.
He glanced up at her bound wrists and felt himself grow hard. Waiting until morning to take her would make for a long night, but she was clearly exhausted and he had no desire to take too much from her too soon.
He turned back to his computer that was open on his lap. It wasn’t work that occupied his thoughts tonight. It was her fantasies.
As he scanned back over the e-mail she’d sent him detailing not only the auction fantasy but several others as well, he frowned. It was as though she’d paraded out a laundry list of all the things she thought a master would do to a slave. Take out any slave/master manual and create a checklist.
He shook his head. She even had a fantasy of being tied up and whipped by another man while Damon watched. As if he’d allow another man to have such mastery over her. Any punishment, any pain, any pleasure, would come at his hands or his supervision. No passive bystander would he be when it came to her.
There was no mention of a threesome or more, but he couldn’t rule it out of her thoughts, much to his chagrin. He didn’t share. Ever. If another man touched her, it was because Damon allowed it, but it would never go beyond preparation. Only Damon would enjoy the full extent off her body, of her sweetness.
Still, there were many instances listed that were textbook clichés for the whole dominant male, submissive female spiel. As much as he wanted to make her fantasies come true, if only for a short period of time, he couldn’t bring himself to make it all an act.