“Not being able to vocalize was very intense,” I said.
“Very intense meaning, I loved it; let’s do it again?” he asked. “Or very intense meaning, I hated it; never try that again?”
I took a deep breath and inhaled the deep woodsy scent of him. Someone else had taken a shower recently. “Mmmmm. I loved it; let’s do it again,” I said.
“I think you can handle more,” he said. “Next time we’ll see if you can go a bit longer.”
My body tingled with anticipation. Longer next time. I could only imagine what he meant. I was glad he thought I could handle more. Frankly, I thought I had reached the end of my control there at the end.
“I liked the flogger,” I said, wanting to switch subjects. “It wasn’t what I was expecting.”
His hand ran down my side. “I’ve decided to use only the rabbit fur this weekend.” The press of his fingers grew rough against my backside. “But I meant what I said about the clamps. I’ll use them tomorrow.” He leaned down and spoke softly in my ear. “And it’s a good thing you’ve been using your plug.”
I nodded, suddenly unable to speak. The tingle in my body became stronger and moved lower, coming to rest right between my legs.
Gah.
“The eight strokes?” he asked.
“Hurt like the devil,” I finished.
“They were meant to.”
“I know,” I said. “I completely understand that part.” I lifted my head. “You didn’t seem surprised. Did you know I’d mess up so soon?”
“I thought you might,” he said. “It made sense to me you would. I didn’t want to say anything before it happened, though. How would that have sounded?”
I laid my head back on his chest. “I probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.”
“Probably not,” he said.
“What hurt most was knowing I’d disappointed you,” I said.
“That was my least favorite part of the night,” he said. “Having to punish you. But you learned. You didn’t make the same mistake twice.”
I didn’t want to dwell on my failure. “Your turn,” I said. “What was your favorite part?”
“Look at me,” he said, and I tilted my head to catch his gaze. “My favorite part was you. The trust you have in me. Your obedience. The joy you find in pleasing me.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant. I meant—”
“Shhhhh,” he hushed. “I’m not finished.”
I pursed my lips together.
“You are,” he said slowly, “exquisite in your service to me. And that, my lovely, was my favorite part. Is my favorite part.”
I found I couldn’t help myself. I brought my head up and kissed him, our lips merely grazing.
I love you, I wanted to say, but wasn’t sure it was allowed. Didn’t know if it would be wise. Perhaps some things were best left unsaid during the weekends. At least for now, anyway. We had plenty of other days to murmur our love.
He didn’t often tell me he loved me. Mentioning it, perhaps, only a handful of times. It didn’t bother me that he wasn’t very vocal with his feelings. Somehow, the rarity of his words made them all the more special.
He didn’t attempt to deepen the kiss, and neither did I. Both of us feeling that, for right then, the simple touch of our lips spoke loud enough. We fell into a comfortable silence while I listened to the steady beat of his heart again and enjoyed the security of his arms.
“Anything you didn’t like?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Nothing I’d change.” I knew in time the talking would become easier. I wondered how the conversation would go if or when he did something I didn’t like. “You?”
“Nothing.”
I’m not sure how long we stayed in the library. It wasn’t until the mantel clock chimed midnight that he spoke again. “You should go on to bed if you’re finished eating.”
“I know,” I said. As I extracted myself from his arms, I felt the absence of his touch immediately.
He stood with me and touched my shoulder as I turned to leave. “Breakfast in the dining room at eight. We’ll head into the playroom shortly thereafter. I don’t mind if you do it tonight or tomorrow morning, but I want the playroom cleaned before breakfast.”
A fresh wave of desire washed over me at the way he commanded me so unobtrusively. “Yes, Master.”
He gave me a light kiss. “Good night, Abigail.”
I tossed and turned for a long time, the reason why escaping me. I’d slept in the small bed plenty of nights before. Slept in it more times than I’d slept in his bed, truth be told. Why would I have trouble sleeping? He was right down the hall. We’d decided together to sleep separately on weekends. It was the arrangement I wanted. The one he wanted. The one we wanted.
I wondered if sleep shunned him as well.
Right when I decided to give up and walk to the library to pour myself some brandy, I heard it: the soft, haunting sounds of a piano. The melody both delicate and comforting in its simplicity.
I sighed in pleasure and closed my eyes.
I tossed no more.
Chapter Four
—NATHANIEL—
I’d anticipated not being able to sleep. I somehow knew having her back in my house as my submissive, even though it was what we wanted—what we needed—would be difficult. That she wanted to spend Friday and Saturday nights in her old room brought me a certain measure of relief. Her indication in the library that our relationship was easy because I was used to it could not have been further from the truth. Our entire relationship was uncharted territory.
I left the library after playing the piano and walked back upstairs. Her bedroom door was closed, causing me to wonder if she slept yet or if she still tossed restlessly. I didn’t anticipate sleep coming quickly to her, either. Something in my mind whispered I should have made her sleep on the floor in my bedroom.
I stopped outside my own bedroom door.
I’d made her sleep on my floor once before. Would have made any other submissive sleep on my floor the first night after I collared her.
Does that mean I won’t be able to be both dom and lover to her?
I didn’t allow myself to dwell on those thoughts. Instead, my mind drifted to the image of her wearing my collar. My collar and nothing else. I thought back to our conversation in the library—how badly I’d wanted to take her. To slip the gown from her shoulders and run my hands down the curves of her body . . .
My cock grew uncomfortably hard and I slipped my hand past the waistband of my pants to grasp it. I remembered scenes from earlier in the day:
On her knees in my office.
Waiting for me in the playroom.
Holding back a moan as I informed her of my plans with the clamps.
My eyes fell again on her bedroom door.
She might not be sleeping on my floor, but she was still my submissive. She was to serve me however I decided.
I pushed her door open and saw her sleeping.
“Wake up,” I said.
She mumbled something in her sleep and rolled away from me.
“Now, Abigail.”
Eyes heavy with sleep, she slowly sat up. Her hair fell around her shoulders in disarray—sleep had not come quickly to her. She ran her hand up to her collarbone to straighten the strap of her gown.