Sweet Persuasion (18 page)

“I realize this is new to you, and that is why I’ll be patient, but you aren’t to ever hide your body.”

“But you said that you were the only one who would enjoy, who would see . . .”

He held up a finger to her lips. “Only I will touch you, Serena. Only I will hold you. Only I will possess you. The people in my employ are discreet and they will not stare. In time, it won’t bother you to be nude in front of them.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but he effectively hushed her. “These are my wishes. You will heed them.”

The word
no
hovered precariously on her lips, but she remembered well that he’d said the moment she said no, it was over. He’d been honest with her. Told her he’d push her, that he was demanding and arrogant. But she could say no. And if she did, he would back down immediately. The downside would be that she would lose everything. Her fantasy. Her chance to satisfy her deepest desires and cravings.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He smiled and took her hand in his as he leaned in to brush his lips across hers. He squeezed her hand when he kissed her, showing her with more than words that she’d pleased him with her response.

A giddy thrill fluttered in her chest. She did want to please him. Wanted it badly.

He gave her hand one last squeeze and then tugged her toward the kitchen. They passed a formal dining room on their way to the large gourmet kitchen. It was absolutely gorgeous and almost made her wish she cooked. Almost. That was one skill she’d never really mastered, and she wasn’t too torn up about it either.

There was a smaller table in a cozy little alcove in front of a bay window that thankfully had shutters, closed shutters. Breakfast was already laid out for them, a selection of bagels, toast, grits, eggs and biscuits. And juice. Orange and grape.

Then she saw that there was only one chair. She frowned and glanced at the floor. Surely he wouldn’t expect her to sit on the floor.

He sighed and ushered her forward. He pulled the chair out and sat before tugging her down onto his lap. He settled her crossways so her side rested against his chest.

“Will you always feed me?” she asked. It seemed okay at times, but every time? It would grate on her nerves after a while.

“I’ll feed you when it pleases me to do so,” he said simply. “And it pleases me this morning.”

She had to smile. He could be infuriating if she let him get to her. He was a calm bastard. Calm and convinced. She just loved a confident man. Borderline arrogant was even better, but then nothing about him was borderline. He was absolutely arrogant, all male, sexy as freaking hell and he fucked like a dream.

She made a little contented noise and burrowed deeper into his chest.

“Do you prefer grape or orange juice?” he asked.

“I’d love grape.”

He poured the juice in a small glass and then brought it to her lips, tilting it just enough that she could sip the fluid without spilling it. After several long swallows, he pulled it away.

“Get enough?”

She nodded and licked the juice from her lips.

He alternated giving her bites of the eggs and then the grits. Then he’d break off a piece of biscuit and hold it to her lips. Often he’d gently wipe his finger on her tongue, and even that became an exercise in the sensual. Who knew that the act of being fed could be so intimate?

She noticed that he hadn’t eaten much yet, and she was nearly full, which gave her an idea. She was, after all, supposed to be his slave, but so far he’d treated her like he was the slave and she was royalty or something.

When he next offered her a bite of the biscuit, she put out her hand to stay his. Surprise rippled across his face when she took the bread from his fingers and slowly pressed it to his lips.

He opened his mouth, and she slid her fingers in, letting the bread crumble on his tongue and the tips of her finger brush his warmth. As she withdrew, he closed his mouth around her finger and sucked lightly.

Damn, but now she knew why he liked feeding her so much. Encouraged by his response and the fact that he hadn’t indicated she’d overstepped her boundaries, she reached for the fork and speared a piece of egg.

She guided the fork to his mouth and gently fed him the morsel.

“Your fingers,” he said as she pulled the fork away. “Use your fingers.”

With a smile, she reached down and swiped her finger through the grits and quickly raised it to his mouth. Some dribbled onto his chin when she wasn’t fast enough, and after he’d sucked her finger clean, she leaned up and licked away the spot on his skin.

He sucked in his breath and tensed against her. Oh yeah, she liked this feeding thing.

When she reached for the juice to hold it to his mouth, he put a hand on her wrist. “What are you doing?” he asked. There was no reprimand in his voice, just mild curiosity.

“I’m your slave,” she said. “Am I not supposed to care for you? See to your needs?”

Something flashed in his eyes. Primitive and dark. His pupils flared and dilated for a brief moment before returning to their normal size.

As she moved the glass closer, he parted his lips for her to let him drink. His gaze never left her as he sipped at the juice. When she pulled it away, she reached up and gently wiped at a small droplet at the corner of his mouth.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“You like being fed,” she said.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward in a smile. “No one has ever offered to take care of me before. I find I rather like it.”

She touched his cheek and stroked lightly over his strong jawline. “Then I hope we can make this a two-way street. I very much want to please you, not only by ceding to your wishes but by taking care of you and seeing to your needs as you see to mine.”

He looked stunned by her declaration. Confusion swirled for a moment before he blinked and it cleared away. It appeared that she’d struck him speechless, but he also seemed inordinately pleased by her request.

“I’d like that very much,” he said in a low voice.

She couldn’t hide her smile. He reached out and brushed his fingers across her lips.

“You have such a beautiful, open smile,” he said. “It lights up your entire face and makes your eyes turn the most spectacular shade of blue.”

For the longest time they simply stared at one another, their gazes locked as if each was searching deep into the other’s soul.

Finally, he touched her cheek and dipped his head, moving first one way and, when she moved, adjusting again so that their lips were in line. When he had her just where he wanted, he put both hands to her face and held her as he lowered his lips to hers.

It was so much more than she’d anticipated. The first touch of his lips was like an electric shock to her very depths. It was the lightest of touches. So exquisitely gentle that she sighed into his mouth.

He treated her like a piece of finely blown glass. His tongue, tentative at first, licked at her lips, coaxing her to open to his advances. She readily complied, parting her lips to allow him entry.

The sweet taste of grape juice filled her mouth as their tongues dueled. This was no passionate, urgent kiss, no mauling of mouths. Rather, it was warm and slow, lazy like a hot summer day.

Comfort. If there was a word to describe the feeling that flooded her heart, it would be comfort. Companionship. Trust. How odd that these were the things that sprang to mind as she gave herself over to the delicious sensations that his lips plied her with.

They both gasped for breath but neither pulled away. Her arms twined around his neck as his hands framed her face to pull her closer still. Light smooching sounds echoed, the soft click of lips on lips, tongues against tongues.

This was more than master and slave, hot sex, rip-roaring fantasies. There was a tangible connection being forged in this moment—one she didn’t want to break. There was so much feeling behind this kiss that she wanted it to go on forever.

Starved for air, she broke away long enough to gulp in a breath before he reclaimed her mouth. His lips glanced off hers and landed at the corner of her mouth. He peppered a line of kisses down her jaw and to the tender skin below her ear and lower to her neck.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to give him better access as he worked to the front of her throat. Slowly, he slid his tongue and lips upward again until he nibbled at her chin and then finally came back to her mouth where he kissed her harder this time, with more savagery.

This was a kiss, like none she’d ever received. No quick peck. No messy, sloppy mesh of tongues. No clumsy slapping of lips together. The man could seriously kiss.

“I could do this all morning,” he murmured as he pulled slightly away. His breath came heavy, and she could see he was affected as she was.

“Mmmm, me too,” she said as she cuddled back into his arms.

“Did you get enough to eat?”

She nodded against him. “You?”

He stroked his hand down her arm. “Yes, thanks to you. I think I could get used to being a kept man.”

She grinned. “You’re too much of a control freak to ever be a kept man.”

“You doubt your abilities, Serena mine. A man would have to be crazy to object to a woman such as you taking care of him. I find myself looking forward more than ever to the month ahead.”

Her cheeks warmed as she basked in his words. She’d had her share of relationships. Flings and all things in between, but she’d never felt as appreciated as she did in the short time she’d been with Damon. It made absolutely no sense to her that they could have this sort of connection so fast, but she couldn’t doubt its legitimacy.

He made her want to go that extra mile to make him happy. She wanted his approval, wanted to see his eyes flash in satisfaction.

“I need to get you dressed,” he announced.

She leaned back and raised one eyebrow. “What happened to keeping me naked at all times?”

He laughed. “As appealing a prospect as that is, I can’t take you out in public wearing only the jewelry I gave you.” His hand slid playfully to her rump, and he gave her a light squeeze. “I’m taking you shopping for appropriate clothing for the next month.”

“Hmm, a man who likes to shop. What on earth is this world coming to?”

“Not only do I like to shop, but I like to spend money on my woman,” he said with a wink.

“For that I’ll gladly get dressed,” she said as she grinned broadly at him.

As he started to move her from his lap, she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to call Julie. And knowing Julie, she would indeed have the cops beating on Damon’s door if Serena didn’t check in.

“Crap,” she muttered. “Damon, I need to use the phone. My friend Julie. You met her at Cattleman’s. She was sorta worried that you were going to kill me last night so unless I call her, she’s going to call the police and have them knock on your door.”

Damon threw back his head and laughed. “By all means, call your friend. She sounds like quite the tigress.”

Serena smiled. “She means well, and she has a big heart, even if her mouth is bigger.”

“I’ll leave you to your phone call then. I’ll go up and get your change of clothes from your bag.”

He moved her from his lap and stood. “I’ll take you into my office so you have privacy.”

This time she readily threaded her fingers into his as he walked her out of the kitchen and across the living room. He showed her into a smaller room off the living room and gestured toward his desk.

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll be in the living room, so just come out when you’re done.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then turned and strode out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

CHAPTER 17

S
atisfied that her friend was still alive and kicking, Julie hung up the phone. Serena wasn’t giving any details, but she sounded pretty darn cheerful for someone who’d just spent her first night in slavery. Not for the first time, Julie wondered if she’d given the whole submission thing a bum rap.

Nah.

She shook her head and eyed the phone with trepidation. Serena had asked if Julie had called Nathan yet, and of course Julie had lied and said yes. She couldn’t have Serena thinking she was a chicken even if she was growing feathers and developing a cluck.

When had she become such a coward?

She grabbed her cell phone and punched in the number that Nathan had left as his personal contact when he filled out his card at the salon. She had no idea where the hell she was calling. She only hoped it was private.

Cursing her nervousness, she put the phone to her ear and listened to it ring. After the third ring, the call connected, and she sucked in her breath.

“Nathan Tucker.”

“Nathan. Uh, hi, this is Julie Stanford from, um, the salon . . . the massage place.”