Everything was ready at the same time—a skill he’d worked hard to master in the last couple of years. As he arranged everything on plates, Everly took a seat at the kitchen table. It was more intimate than the dining room, and less ostentatious.
When he set the plate down in front of her, she looked impressed.
Excellent.
“Wow! You’re good. Have you ever thought about becoming a chef?”
He’d put the place settings so close together that they almost touched, so when he sat down, his leg brushed hers. A zing of electricity shot through him, as though he hadn’t been balls deep in her the other day. He’d assumed that after they’d slept together he’d stop feeling so obsessed, but if anything, it had made it worse. The way she sassed him, yet submitted to him so thoroughly, made him want her all the more.
“Cooking is probably more fun as a hobby than it would be if it was my job.” He cut into his steak, pleased to see it had turned out perfectly even though he had no appetite. Not for food.
Everly took a bite. Her manners were impeccable, which fascinated him. Watching her put things in her mouth also fascinated him. Was she always this prim about eating? He tried not to stare, but failed miserably. The look of pleasure on her face probably wasn’t helping. It brought lewder things to mind.
“Mmm.” She picked her napkin up out of her lap and dabbed at her mouth. “Are you not eating?”
Fuck, his dick was getting hard again.
“I just wanted to see if you liked it,” he lied, skewering a bite of steak with his fork.
“This is probably the tastiest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” She smirked, and he leaned in and stole a kiss.
“That was the most interesting backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Well, the next best is far too big, really. Having it in my mouth makes it hard to be ladylike.”
He blinked at her, contemplating dragging her into his office by the hair, but that wouldn’t be considered romantic by most people. “You should behave yourself, miss. I
will
be playing with you later, so you might want to watch your mouth.”
“Oh really? But why? You seem to be doing that job well enough for both of us,” she said archly. She popped another bite of steak into her mouth, but even though he’d been caught staring, he was helpless to look away.
“Woman, how on earth are you single? You’re the type I usually pine after while they have deep and meaningful relationships with some other guy.”
“I have a hard time picturing you pining.” She took a last bite of food, then smiled.
“Oh, it’s pretty much my natural state. Don’t I smell Christmassy?”
“I’ll check later.” She winked. “As for why I’m single, I want a D/s relationship, but I’m too much of a handful for most men. I haven’t been able to find anyone who likes bratting and who I have a deep connection with.”
“You don’t want to try to train your own Dom?” A visual of her looking sweet and demure came to mind.
She snorted. “I’m a handful for experienced Doms. I’m not sure I’m beginner training material.”
“Sex and relationships are complicated enough. Add BDSM and finding someone compatible gets difficult.” The warm feeling he’d gotten when he was thinking about her at the bakery came back. His feelings about her were moving too fast. Time to change the subject.
Not hungry, Ambrose set aside his plate and started to clear things away.
“So, what else would you like to do on our date? Dance? Watch a movie? Go for a walk?”
“Those all sound good. You’re not going to show me around the house first, though?”
He shrugged. “If you want.” This was going to be tricky. He was excited to show her around, wanting her to like the house, wondering if she’d sleep in his bed, but knowing she never would if she knew the place was his. Every other woman he’d dated was impressed by the house, even if Banner told him that his decorating was obnoxious and ostentatious. Not being able to use the place to his advantage, considering he wasn’t a smooth talker or sophisticated, didn’t give him much to work with. He expected to woo potential girls with expensive gifts. Of course he’d managed to find the one girl it wouldn’t work on.
Everly’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I want.”
Such a naughty girl. He’d make her want, all right. “Come with me, then. I’ll give you the in-depth tour.”
“I think I choked on that tour the other night.”
Ambrose snorted. If she thought he’d feel guilty about that, she was sadly mistaken.
He took her by the hand and led her through the house, enjoying the way she’d pause to look at artwork here and there. Last, he showed her the indoor pool.
“See, now this is what I’m talking about.” She sighed. “This pool is bigger than the one at the community center my mom used to drop me off at when I was a kid. What single man needs so much just for him? And the rest of it”—she gestured at the room’s decor—“shows that your buddy has more money than taste.”
He winced. “Thomas is a bachelor. He’s also pretty good at getting what he wants.”
“Like most rich people. They do whatever it takes to get what they want, no matter who it hurts.”
“Want to go for a swim?” His tone soured, although he hadn’t meant it to. “Or is this room too ugly to hang out in?”
“Oh, I offended you.” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you’d take it personally. I’d love to go for a swim, but . . . I didn’t bring a suit.” Her shrug was a thing of beauty, laced as it was with suggestive invitation.
“You’ll just have to skinny-dip, then.” His next words cost him a lot. “Unless you want to borrow a pair of my swim shorts and a T-shirt?”
Please say no
.
“Do you think I need to cover myself? Are you untrustworthy, Sir?”
“Why, yes, I’m extremely untrustworthy. But I can guarantee a swimsuit won’t deter me.”
She fiddled with the hem of her dress, as though she were shy and hadn’t begged for him to make her come several times now. “Is this all a ploy to get me naked?”
“Yes.”
There was a feigned gasp of shock. “Is this the room you keep your concubines in, oh Sultan?”
He laughed. “Banner and Konstantin joke about me keeping concubines here . . . when Thomas is away.”
Fuck.
He’d almost blown it. “Okay, concubine, show the Sultan what you have under that pretty dress.”
“The Sultan is a pervert, I see.” Amused, she lifted her dress over her head and stripped it off. Her matching bra-and-panty set was cobalt blue, and could well have worked as a bikini except for the fact that the bra was cupless. Her nipples, pink and stiff, made him regret he’d have to go upstairs if he wanted to get clamps for them.
Ambrose realized he’d been staring at her tits and her lovely curves too long, and he forced his gaze back up to her eyes.
“Lucky for you, I don’t have anything in this room to torture you with. Other than myself.”
She snorted. “If you were to excuse yourself momentarily, Master Sultan, I’m sure I could find some way to amuse myself until you come back.”
To the sound of her laughter, he was up the stairs and back in record time. She still stood almost where he’d left her.
“Come here, girl.”
“‘Girl’? Can’t you think of something better to call me?” She came to him anyway, the sway of her hips making his mouth water more than the steak had.
“Slave.” He opened his hand and showed her the slave bells he’d brought back.
“Slave?” She blinked at him. “I don’t make a good slave. Masters don’t like me.”
“I like you.”
“Are you a Master?”
“Yes, and I can be quite strict.”
A sigh escaped her, but it sounded more like longing than irritation.
Ambrose crouched and fastened the slave bells around her ankle.
“They’re so pretty!” She moved her foot and they chimed quietly.
He’d bought them on a whim when he’d picked up several other toys he had every intention of using on her.
“They are. They suit you.” From her ankle, he ran his palm up her smooth calf, and she inhaled sharply, as though she hadn’t expected it.
He rose and kissed her. She melted against him and a territorial growl tried to sneak out. When he’d seen her at the damned club, he’d wanted to punch that idiot Dom in the face. Actually, the guy had been decent about things when he’d realized she was taken, even though she technically wasn’t. But still, he’d been in bed when the text came from Konstantin and he’d found himself racing across town to reclaim her.
Maybe a real relationship was daunting to him, but it wasn’t as hard as seeing her about to submit to another man. If he wanted to play with her and not have to share, he’d have to figure out how to deal with his shit.
Ambrose pulled her over to a chair and sat her in his lap. He showed her the belled nipple clamps he also had with him, and she squirmed in place, unintentionally doing interesting things to his dick.
“Do you like clamps, slave?”
Her voice went small. “No, Sultan. But I’ll wear them if it pleases you.”
“Yes, you will.” He stroked her midsection, her shoulders, then gradually allowed himself to move to her breasts, but only when she was starting to follow his hand for attention there. He used gentle fingers at first, and gradually got rough, listening to her nonverbals. When he thought the pain would start being too much for her, her writhing became more pronounced and desperate. She rubbed against him as though she was ready to fuck.
Gently, he attached the clamps to her perfect nipples, loving the gasps and squeals they drew from her. He flicked the bells on the clamps then rubbed a finger gently over the exposed ends of her engorging nipples.
Everly groaned and ground against him, her panties not providing much separation between them. He stroked her lovely body, watching the way she responded to his touch. It didn’t take long to learn what she hated and what she loved, and he catalogued both for future reference.
“When I saw you playing with the other Dom, it made me unhappy, slave.”
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore. Besides, we never said we’d be exclusive.”
True.
Ambrose considered what it would be like to go to the club tomorrow night and play with someone else, but the idea fell flat. Everly was everything he wanted.
“For now, then. I want a promise that for now you won’t play with other men.”
“Until when?”
“Until we’ve established that the agreement is over.”
She paused, her hesitation making him irritable. Was it that hard to agree to this for a while? This whole thing was making him uncomfortable. It was getting very one-sided, with him becoming obsessed and her seeming indifferent. Or was he not reading her right?
“Yes, Sir.” She held her breath for a moment. “But only if you don’t take any other submissives while we’re together. I know some Doms don’t like having limits put on them, but if I’m expected to be exclusive I demand the same from you.” Everly was studying the floor, but he could feel her waiting for an answer.
He grabbed her chin and made her look at him.
“That was the idea, sweetheart. Besides, I doubt I could handle another girl while you have my attention.”
“I’ll try to make sure you don’t get bored and wander off.” She bit her lip, her cheeks pink and her eyes shining.
Shit.
What was he doing? Now that she’d agreed, the internal backpedaling had begun.
What’s the worst thing that could happen, Ambrose? Just don’t go off the deep end for this girl and there won’t be a problem.
Her eyes narrowed, and she squirmed on his lap more deliberately this time, an invitation rather than a reaction.
Time to think later.
“Did I tell you to tempt me, slave?” He frowned, trying to look displeased. “Kneel there and think about what obedience means.”
She groaned but got down from his lap and knelt where he’d indicated.
“What were you hoping to do, squirming your ass against me like that?”
“Honestly, oh Sultan? This slave was hoping you would use her.” She knelt up straighter and thrust her breasts out at him, the bells jingling with her movements.
He flicked the bells again, one after the other, until she was writhing in place, her hoarse little cries making his dick pulse. “You want me to use your ass, pretty slave?”
She mewled and shook her head.
“Well, that’s what your Master would assume, since it was your ass you were grinding against him.”
“I—I don’t think my ass could take you, Master.” Her eyes were wide. “You’re . . . big.”
“You’d let me try.”
Everly blushed brightly. “I would.”
Motherfucker. A girl should not be able to make him so hot with such a short sentence.
“Well, if it’s been that long since you were fucked there, we should probably prep you first.”
Arousal, interest, horror, interest—all crossed her face in quick succession.
“Prep me?” she squeaked.
“Do you like buttplugs?”
“I, uh, I don’t like them, no.”
“But you’ll let me use them on you if you don’t want me to hurt your ass later?” He raised a brow.
Her gaze lowered, but she nodded. “Now?”
“My, aren’t you eager? I was thinking we could wait awhile, but if you’re that hot to have me in your ass, we could start tonight.” He chuckled, enjoying the way she hid her face in her hands. “Well?”
“If it pleases you, Master,” she mumbled into her palms.
He went to the sound system and found a melodic metal album that had hints of Middle Eastern musical influence, and set it to play.
“Up.” He returned to her and pulled her to her feet. “Dance for me.”
Her frown of distress was adorable. “What? No! I don’t know how.”
When he’d placed her where he wanted her, he left her there and sat back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Everyone can dance. Move for me like you’re my slave girl.”
“A slave girl trying to get her Sultan’s attention?”
“Exactly.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“I need to remind you that I’m in charge somehow.” He let his gaze slide over her, then clapped his hands. “Dance. Now.”
Everly shook her hair back, the arch of her neck and curve of her clavicle making him crazy. She huffed in exasperation. Her eyes closed, probably to help her forget she was being watched. The subtle movements, the shy sway of her hips, grew bolder when he didn’t interrupt. The cadence changed as one song shifted almost seamlessly to the next, and the beat got heavier and more sexual. Now the bells were ringing in time with her movement, the anklet keeping time with the movement of her feet.