Chapter Fourteen

Dessert

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I T TOOK WHAT SEEMED like an age, but in the end, Amy finished her duck breast. It was good, or it would have been had the succulent meat been hot. She had persevered despite the temperature, fueled by the threat of the potential penance if she didn’t eat and the promise of his favor if she obeyed.

Kyle finished his plate and sat waiting while she struggled. No words were exchanged between them, but the extent of his authority over her had rarely been clearer.

She would eat because he told her to, and she would do so with her breasts exposed because he commanded it, regardless of the chill and her growing uncomfortable arousal. She wanted none of those things—the ignominy, the meal, or the simmering need between her legs—but, as she chewed on the food, she accepted that she obeyed not only for the life his money would buy her but for the looming pleasure her obedience was bringing. She might not choose to be turned on by such degradation, but she was ready to revel in the iniquity.

Placing down her cutlery, she wanted to cheer as she finished the duck, but his searching eyes insisted she remain quiet. His gaze hadn’t left her during the entire meal, his eyes far hungrier for her than anything Leonard had prepared.

“Shall I tidy the plates away, sir?”

The idea of facing the chef half-naked filled her with dread, but preposterously, she realized she wanted to serve Kyle. The more she complied, the greater the urgency between her thighs and the longer her clit’s throbbing went on, the more difficult it was becoming to think or worry about anything else.

“Take them to the end of the table.” He motioned to the place he referred to as though she wouldn’t understand. “Then come back here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her heart raced as she rose to obey, her limbs trembling as she reached across him for his plate and carried it, with hers, to the other end of the unnecessarily large table.

“Is there dessert, sir?” She glanced over her shoulder, aware of the way her question might be misconstrued.

It had been the weirdest, most humiliating, and sexiest meal she’d ever known, but she knew he had the power to also make it the most gratifying. As far as Amy was concerned, she’d earned the right to that pleasure.

“Definitely.” His voice was husky. “Get back over here.”

She trotted back to him as fast as she could, the mere idea of his attention inspiring her speed. She’d done what he wanted all evening—worn the stupid dress, stripped it to her waist, and eaten the damn duck. It was time for her enjoyment.

“What are you wearing under that?” he growled, tugging at the black hem as soon as she was close enough.

“Just panties, sir.” Which would likely be soaked through with her desire.

“Slide them to your ankles and turn around.”

Her breath hitched as she registered the newest instruction, but she complied, subduing her rational brain. After everything she’d been through, it was about more than her passion or even their combined desire—the need to satisfy the push and pull between them had become vital to her next breath.

She grabbed her ankles, stretching the fabric of her underwear at her ankles, and there she waited for his latest inspection. The touch of his fingers as they nudged past her hem was electrifying. Each graze ignited sparks in her head, the energy whipping straight to her eager clit. By the time he’d grazed his fingers along the curve of her backside and massaged her cheeks, she was ready to implode.

“Please.” She hardly even recognized the raspy voice coming from her. “Please, sir.”

His hand left her ass, and a moment later, it smacked down hard on her upturned behind. “Shhh. I want to explore you.”

Amy’s lips parted at the impact, but while she acknowledged the sting of his palm, the hurt was already diffusing into something hotter, slicker, and more demanding. She gripped her ankles tighter as her knees threatened to buckle at the insatiable need.

“You are fabulous.” Appreciation emanated from his tone as his fingertip skimmed over her labia. “I didn’t know you shaved this gorgeous pussy.”

It wasn’t the kind of thing she told men over dinner in Worthington’s, but she was suddenly glad that she’d already showered.

“I approve, Amy.” His digit caressed her sex until it nudged the edge of her desperate nub. She jolted at the faintest of touches, groaning as his finger withdrew. “I love how needy you are.”

At least one of us does.

“Sir, please.” Hang on, hadn’t she resolved not to plead for his attention, yet less than an hour later, she was exposing herself and begging for just that? His focus, his fingers— any thing.

“Okay.” He laughed gently as he eased her upright and turned her to face him.

The world around her swam in various directions as she tried to adjust to the new position, the spicy aroma of his cologne enveloping her as she heaved in air. Dimly, she was aware of him loosening the tie around his neck as he spoke.

“You want my cock, and believe me, I want you, too.” He tightened the silk between his hands. “But first, I want you bound.”

Amy had never been tied before, but eyeing the fabric, she already knew she had little desire to resist. She couldn’t say she trusted him, but one silk tie wasn’t going to tip the balance in their twisted dynamic. Between his damn contract and her pulverizing craving, Kyle still leveraged all the power.

“You have been a good girl this evening.” Smiling, he wandered around her.

A good girl? What was she, three years old?

“And if you continue to please me, I promise you’ll get what you want.”

What she wanted was for him to play with her clit until the crippling tension in her core splintered, then bang her so hard against the fancy table that even Stevens could hear them at it from the garages. She wondered, fleetingly, if that’s what he meant.

“Are you going to please me, Amy?” He was behind her then, stroking the underside of her arms and then grabbing her wrists.

“Yes, sir.”

Hell, she might have agreed to give him both her kidneys if he intended to follow through with his vow and give her what she wanted.

“Good.”

Vaguely, she sensed the silk that had once been at his neck winding around her wrists. It wasn’t until he tugged the material tight, though, that she understood her hands were now properly fettered behind her back.

“Now.” He pulled out his enormous chair and settled on the edge of the seat. Beckoning her forward with one hand, he unfastened his pants and eased his giant cock from its fabric prison.

She licked her lips at the sight of his thick dick, inching reflexively toward it.

“Show me how good you can be again.”

Amy didn’t need to be told twice. He’d teased her for long enough with his ridiculous orders and overt demonstrations of power. It was time she showed him he’d longed for this—for her—every inch as much as she wanted him.

Dropping to her knees, she shuffled over to the space between his outstretched legs and wrapped her lips around his significant shaft. A little over average length, it was the girth of Kyle’s cock that impressed her the most. As she pressed down to the patch of dark hair at the base, she enjoyed the sound of his approving moan.

“Very good,” he snarled, his hands sliding into her hair. “Take all of me.”

Breathing in the scent of his masculinity, she wanted to smile. Devouring him was precisely what she intended to do as she worked along his length and allowed him to brush the back of her throat. Sure, she still yearned for her own pleasure, but finally, being able to service him properly was only fueling her ravenous desire.

Being there on her knees made her feel like a desirable woman again, as though she had value for something more than juggling money and struggling to provide for her family. Sucking his cock, a sense of repletion settled over her, heightened by the fact she couldn’t use her hands to aid or halt his hedonism.

“Fuck.” He hissed the word through gritted teeth, and fisting her hair tighter, he slowed her pace to take control. Holding her steady, he plowed into her throat again and again, fucking her face roughly until tears pricked in her eyes. “You look good on the end of my cock.”

Her attention darted to his, their gazes colliding as he used her mouth. She might have had a smart comment for him had she been able to speak, but gagging around his hard length, the familiar sensation of surrender she’d noticed earlier swept her way again. Kneeling there, providing him with pleasure, she acknowledged its strength again.

There was supremacy in her submission.

Not only did it turn her on to yield after so many hours of torment, but she realized she sought the renunciation of power. He was the one with all the authority anyway, and he’d been dangling her on a string all day. Better that she gave in willingly and welcomed the tranquility. She wanted to know more about the serenity she found when she ceded. Deep down, she suspected she needed to understand it to truly know herself.

Who was the woman whimpering for his cock as he fucked her face? Who was the one who’d grown hotter each time he’d forced her to obey? Amy didn’t know her at all.

All she understood was that by the time he pulled away, leaving a trail of her saliva between them, she was gasping for more than just breath. She craved the promise of this power.

“Oh God.” She lifted her face to the high ceiling as he guided her to her feet. “Please just fuck me.”

“Oh, no.” Carrying her to his seat, he untangled her panties from her ankles and nudged her knees on either side of his legs. In a matter of moments, she found herself straddling her tormentor. “You’re going to be doing the work, little girl, while I have my dessert.”

Her pussy, drenched with her arousal, contracted at the name he called her.

Little girl.

As her nakedness proved, there was nothing ‘little’ about Amy, but she didn’t question the label as he steered her into position. On the contrary, she found there was something naughty about the idea of being his little girl—as though he had ownership over her, as she was bound to do his bidding.

“Do you understand me?” Cradling her breasts in his hands, he kneaded her mounds as he stared into her eyes.

“Yes, sir.” She understood all right. More than he realized.

He was allowing her to take her fill while he helped himself to her ample cleavage. Amy was ecstatic at the prospect. This position—being on top of him—lent itself to her achieving one hell of a spectacular orgasm if only he’d just say the word.

Throwing her head back, she lowered so her thighs took the pressure and rubbed herself over his engorged cock. There were no thoughts of condoms or caution. The menopause had taken hold of her cycle years ago, so pregnancy was no longer a risk, and as she slid over his hot flesh, all she could think was how much she wanted him, wanted this.

“Amy.”

The severity of his tone demanded she come back to life, and head falling forward, her eyes fluttered open.

“This will be at my pace and my way. Got it?”

“Yes.” Fuck, she couldn’t wait much longer. “Yes, sir!”

“Okay, then.” He smiled, his thumbs and forefingers pinching her eager nipples. “Fuck me.”