Marcella started. Good thing she hadn’t forced herself onto her wobbly legs earlier. This request would have made her knees buckle. Not once had one of her fantasies involved Fuller. To be fair, he would be at the benefit, watching with the rest of them. But then he would be a face in the crowd, not the lone observer. She stared up at Sean. Her jaw dropped open, useless.
Fuller dropped his gaze to meet Marcella’s. She always liked that he treated her as a person and not as a servant. He had an easy manner with everyone. It explained at least some of the reasons for his popularity among fans. “Marcella? Are you okay with this?”
If she couldn’t perform in front of him in a private setting, how did she expect to not disappoint Sean in front of a hundred spectators? She swallowed her trepidation. “It’s probably a good idea. I’d hate to get out in front of all those people and have a panic attack or have to use my safe word.”
Fuller stared at her for the longest time. At last he turned his attention back to Sean. “You got pissy when I hugged her at the door, and you spent all the time she was working staring over your shoulder at the foyer, looking for her. Do you really think
you
can do this?”
Sean stiffened. “If you don’t want to help, then just say you don’t want to help.”
“Help.”
Fuller played the word like a question or a heavy concept worthy of great consideration. He came around the table and held his hands out to Marcella. She placed her hands in his, and he tugged her to standing. True to form, once she stood, he kept hold of her hands. “Are you asking me to watch or to help? Those are two very different requests.”
Sean didn’t answer, and Marcella bit her lip. She knew what he was thinking. “In the second round, I have to orgasm from being whipped. I haven’t done that in a long time. I think Sean might need your assistance, even if you’re only there to give advice.”
He massaged his jaw with one hand and looked at Sean. When he dropped her other hand, Marcella felt her confidence fade. Perhaps Sean found her attractive, but Fuller had his pick of beautiful women. His flirting had always been harmless and innocent. It wasn’t like either of them expected Fuller to have sex with her. Perhaps this request crossed the boundaries of their friendship.
Finally he broke the tense silence. “What’s your safe word?”
“Oasis.”
Fuller’s hand dropped from his chin, and both brows disappeared under his floppy bangs. His surprised expression morphed into an easy smile.
“Oasis?
Then by all means, let me help out.”
Did Fuller know about Oasis? Would he tell Sean about her subterfuge, tell him he was the fulfillment of her fantasy? Marcella glanced at Sean, a quick movement to check out his reaction to Fuller’s abrupt commitment to helping. His brows knit in momentary confusion, but then they straightened out. He slipped his arm around Marcella’s waist and guided her toward the door on the far side of the room that led to the dining room.
“Let’s eat first. I can’t have my slave passing out too early in the game.”
Once inside the dining room, Sean pulled a chair out for Marcella. This wasn’t something new. He always opened doors and seated her first, even when they ate in informal settings. She glanced up at him, an unasked question in her eyes.
He leaned close. His breath tickled her cheek. “Don’t worry, slave. You’ll make it to my lap by the dessert course.”
The way his tongue lingered over the word
dessert
caused a shiver to run from Marcella’s breasts to her pussy. She sat where he indicated and spread her cloth napkin over her lap.
Sean took the seat next to her, and Fuller settled in across the table. The long table could easily accommodate twelve, yet they managed an intimate arrangement. The door to the kitchen opened, and Gabriella, the chef’s assistant, brought steaming plates to them. Sean wasn’t big on soups or salads, except for lunch, so they generally only ate two-course meals. This suited Marcella just fine. Although Sean’s personal chef had a habit of making meals saturated with butter and fat, over the course of the past year, Marcella had advocated for healthier meal choices.
The savory smell of peanuts assaulted her nose as Gabriella, a woman in her sixties who enjoyed bossing Sean around, set the plate on the table. Marcella’s shoulders slumped at the chicken satay with a spicy peanut sauce. There were a handful of dishes she couldn’t resist, and this was one of them. Living with Sean meant she would never have that chic, thin body every other woman around him seemed to have. Visions of how Gretchen would look naked danced in front of her eyes, taunting her with a Hollywood ideal she could never achieve.
Gabriella winked at Marcella. “We used reduced-fat peanut butter and light coconut milk.
Three hundred calories, tops.”
Sean wrinkled his nose at her. “You lose any more weight, I’m going to tie you to that chair and force you to eat a healthy amount of food.”
Heat crept up her neck. She hadn’t known he’d noticed her recent diet. “I have five pounds left to lose.”
Gabriella rolled her eyes and left the room. Fuller regarded her with an amused quirk to his lips.
Sean growled and slung his arm over the back of her chair, leaning so close the electricity of his body jumped the gap to set excitement racing along her nerve endings. “I’ve seen you naked. You can’t spare five pounds.”
The blush deepened. She focused on the grains of rice and resisted the urge to fan her face. Her personal weight goals were really none of his business. “Sean, don’t—”
“Slave.”
One word, a warning and a reminder.
She couldn’t argue with him today, tomorrow, or the day after. “Yes, Master?”
“Eat all the food on your plate, or you will be punished.”
Gabriella had given her a reasonable portion. Marcella nodded. “Yes, Master.”
Fuller chuckled as he loaded another bite onto his fork. “Dessert should be fun.”
Sean dropped his overbearing pose, and they settled into the easy rhythm of conversation they had enjoyed all afternoon. A little later, Gabriella cleared away their empty plates and brought German chocolate cake for dessert.
“Thanks, Gabby.” Sean sank his fork into the soft, moist cake. “Are you guys taking off for the evening?”
“Yep.”
Gabriella shot a sly smile in Marcella’s direction, making her wonder how much the chef’s assistant knew about what had happened in the dungeon earlier. “Make sure those plates get to the sink, or there will be hell to pay in the morning.”
Marcella twisted her napkin in her hands, trying to resist the pull of the cake. It wasn’t a large slice, but she had been doing so well following the plan her nutritionist had recommended. She was proud of the progress she’d made so far, and her stomach was pleasantly full. At last she pushed her plate aside.
“Eat.”
“I ate dinner, Sean. I’m full.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but he didn’t pursue the topic.
Fuller leaned across the table and took her plate. German chocolate cake was his favorite dish. “You know, Sean, it occurs to me that you’re asking Marcella to do two things she’s never done before at the same time. That’s not exactly playing fair. Don’t get me wrong; sometimes subs need for things to not be fair. I’m just urging you to consider the scope of what you’re asking.”
Sean sat back, his mouth puckered in a frown. Marcella worried that Fuller’s point would make Sean decide he couldn’t use her at the benefit. The idea of someone—anyone—taking her place as Sean’s submissive made the satay churn in her stomach.
He pushed his chair back, sliding it smoothly across the wood floor. Pointing to the place on the floor between him and the table, he snapped his fingers. “Cella, stand here and face me.”
The tone of the order commanded a place deep inside her soul. It amazed her how quickly she could transition from thinking of him as Sean to thinking of him as her master. “Yes, Master.”
He fingered the delicate lace edging the hem of her light pink shirt. A small smile played around the corners of his mouth. “Remove your shirt.”
Shocked, she failed to react. She had assumed he wouldn’t ask her to undress until they were in the dungeon. He had promised her a blindfold. She hazarded a quick glance back at Fuller. He’d seen her in a string bikini. Her bra covered more of her flesh than her bikini top did.
And within the hour, he would see her completely naked. He would see her splayed out. He would watch her being whipped, and he would witness her orgasm if she managed to have one under those conditions.
Sean didn’t hurry her, and he didn’t seem to grow impatient with her hesitancy. He watched her silently, with a steady gaze that held an expectation and a promise. As her master, he would keep her physically and emotionally safe. He would push her boundaries. He had asked for her trust. She couldn’t take that back now, not when he’d been every bit the master she’d wanted.
Gripping the lace between her fingers, she lifted the shirt over her head.
“Fold it and put it on your chair.”
When she had done that, she stood before him wearing only a bra and a short skirt that would flare out to show everything if she twirled in a fast circle.
His gaze roamed her body, an electric caress that prickled every inch of her skin. Desire flared green in his eyes, and the juices between her legs thickened in anticipation.
“Take off your bra and put it with your shirt.”
Reaching behind her, she unhooked the bra. As it dropped away from her breasts, it took the body heat trapped there with it. Her nipples tightened and pebbled. They tingled as if he’d actually touched her.
A ball of tension pinged through her body and left trails of unfulfilled expectation behind. She waited an impossibly long time for him to do anything other than study her nakedness.
Finally he pointed to her skirt. “Slide it down your legs slowly. Bend at your waist, and don’t let it drop from your control.”
The dining room table came up to a height just below the bottom of her ass cheeks. Fuller would get an eyeful of not only her ass, but of her slit as she bent over. The day after tomorrow, a hundred people would see the same thing. Her juices flowed a little faster, and she knew without looking that her bare pussy glistened with moisture.
She hooked her thumbs under the elastic waist and pushed the skirt down over her hips. By sheer dint of will, she didn’t hesitate when it came to the point where Fuller would see her ass. She concentrated on watching Sean lick his lips as he caught sight of her slit. Bending as he’d dictated meant Sean’s view would be obstructed while Fuller still enjoyed a show. She told herself that the heat flaming her face had everything to do with the reverse flow of blood as she bent over and nothing to do with the shyness she felt.
At last she folded her skirt and placed it on top of her bra. With her hands at her sides, she stood in front of Sean, once again waiting for his next order.
He didn’t make her wait long. Rising to his feet, he snaked one hand around her waist and used the other to grip the back of her neck. His lips pressed hard, demanding entrance. The soft steel of his insistence made her knees quake as the need to submit to this man she loved spread through her core. She opened, and he swept his tongue into her mouth. She wanted to grab his arms or wrap her arms around his neck, but she knew better than to move without permission.
She moaned and melted against him, tilting her head to help him achieve a better angle. He deepened the kiss. Fireworks, warm and tingly, exploded near her heart. When he ended the kiss and stepped away, she fought the urge to grab him back.
With his hands holding her firmly on her waist, he lifted her onto the tabletop.
“
Lie
back, my slave.”
Marcella eased herself back until she lay across the table. The cool wood sent a slight chill through her body. She chanced a quick peek at Fuller, to find him grinning down at her. He sat in his chair, less than a foot from the top of her head, enjoying the last few bites of her cake.
“Blindfold her.”
Fuller set his cake out of the way and folded his cloth napkin carefully. She lifted her head so he could ease it underneath. The world went dark as the soft linen molded to her contours.
He tied it on the side of her head so the knot wouldn’t cause discomfort. His breath sounded near her ear. “Don’t worry. I didn’t use it at dinner.
A fortuitous circumstance.”