He slipped a finger between her legs. “You’re wet.”

“Yes.” Her hips jerked up in an attempt to get his finger deeper.

A sharp slap landed on her thigh. “Be still.”

“Sorry, Master,” she said, suddenly glad he’d had her close her eyes. She hated seeing him disappointed.

“I don’t want your apology. I want your obedience.” He placed his finger at her lips. “Clean it.”

The temptation to open her eyes was strong; she wanted to get a peek at him badly. To see if the disappointment had left. Instead, she sucked his finger inside her mouth and licked herself off. She’d rather it be his cock, but she’d take whatever part of himself he offered.

“Enough,” he said, and he slipped his finger out.

There was a rustling to her side and another match was struck. At once, her heart pounded and her body tensed. She’d thought he was finished. She tried to remember how many candles were on the table and forced her eyes to remain shut.

“It pleases me to do this.” His voice was soft but laced with iron. “You will take it for me.”

Oh, fuck. What did that mean?

She yelped as hot rivers of wax ran over her midsection, pooled in her belly button, and dribbled down her sides. It barely cooled before another stream landed on the uncovered skin farther up her body. A third followed just as quickly. By the fourth, she was muttering uncontrollably. The fifth partially coated her breasts and was hot, so hot.

She waited for the sixth, needed the sixth, ached for the sixth. Instead, she shrieked when Jeff pushed two fingers deep inside her and started fucking her with them. Slow and methodical and brushing her clit with every inward thrust.

“Oh, God.” She was going to come. Had he given her permission? She couldn’t remember.

His fingers went deeper, stroking that spot inside her, the one he knew made her come, and she couldn’t remember.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Please let me come.”

“I’m not God.” His lips were so close to her ear, she could almost feel them, and his breath heated her further. “I’m the devil himself, sent to torture your angelic body in ways you can’t imagine. And when I’m finished here, I’m going to fuck you so hard, so long, and so deep, you’ll only think you’re in heaven.”

His touch. His words. “I can’t …”

“Come for me, my wicked Angel. Come. Now.”

He pushed a third finger inside her, biting her ear at the same time, and she shouted as her body shook with the force of her climax. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. He kept moving his fingers, and she whimpered when a second orgasm overtook her, jerking and arching her back.

“Shhh,” he whispered, and she realized she’d been babbling. “Shhh. It’s okay. Open your eyes.”

His lips were at her throat, placing kisses along her neck and whispering against her skin. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking in the low light. His face was the first thing she saw: dark hair, full lips, chiseled features, and questioning eyes.

He stroked her cheek. “How do you feel?”

“Wonderful. Sublime. Elated.”

“That’s a lot of adjectives.”

“My mind’s too fuzzy to pick just one.”

He lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss, cupping her face gently. It was only a soft kiss, but she felt her need and desire for him rise again. Amazing what he could do to her with a simple touch.

“You did great. Perfect,” he said, pulling back, his voice full of pride and love shining in his eyes. He brushed a hair away from her face.

“Thank you, Master,” she said in a sigh. “Thank you.”

“You might want to hold your thanks.” His smile was evil, and he picked up a flogger from the table and lifted it so she could see. “I still have to remove the wax.”

Chapter Seven

Present day

Dena fell asleep in the passenger seat before Jeff pulled out of Daniel’s driveway. Jeff remembered from playing with her in the past how sleepy she became afterward. When she’d told him she wanted to discuss expectations before leaving, he’d known she was fighting a losing battle. As tired as she’d looked, any meaningful conversation would have to wait until morning. He remembered, too, how loopy she became when tired.

He pulled onto the highway headed toward his cabin on the outskirts of town and glanced over at Dena. She’d leaned the seat back as much as the passenger side of his truck would allow. Her head was turned toward him in such a way that he could see her lips part slightly. The faint moonlight made her blond hair luminous.

Angel.

He had finally allowed himself to call her that the night he collared her. His sassy and sexy angel. When he thought back to their past, he still had a hard time believing a woman as wealthy and smart and beautiful as she was would want him—much less agree to wear his collar. Maybe he had never really been able to believe it. Maybe that was why it had been easy to let her go.

He frowned. He hadn’t thought about it like that before.

But it made sense. Hadn’t he always thought she was too good for him and that she’d realize it and leave? Did he take his collar back only because he didn’t want her to break up with him first? He hadn’t thought so at the time, but now, years removed, it made sense.

She smiled in her sleep, and he remembered seeing the same smile the first time they’d played together, as she’d looked up from between his knees. The night she’d proved her point about how good she was.

To this day she was the best he’d ever had.

He pulled into his driveway, knowing he’d have some explaining to do when she saw the moving boxes. He needed to brace himself for the hurt he’d find in her eyes. The hurt at both his leaving and possibly the hurt knowing he’d stayed for her. Or maybe that would be guilt.

He opened her door, unbuckled her seat belt, and scooped her into his arms.

“Perfectly capable of walking,” she mumbled.

“Humor me.”

“You have no sense of humor.”

He smiled, remembering that fatigue always left her uninhibited. “Then maybe I just like holding you in my arms and carrying you.”

“Mmm.” She snuggled into his chest. “I like your arms. They’re hot in that shirt.”

He grinned. “Good to know.”