He picked me up and set me on the counter near the stove, pushing cutting boards and cans out of the way. Something crashed to the floor.

He fumbled with the button on my pants and then pulled them roughly off, almost dragging me off the countertop. His eyes grew dark, because, oops, I forgot panties. Again.

His jeans were on the floor in less than two seconds and there he was, n**ed and magnificently erect.

“Is this what you want?” He came up to me and I wrapped my legs around his waist.

I ran my hands up his shirt to get to his chest. “Yes.”

He cupped my breast and rubbed my nipple with his thumb.

“Please,” I said, drawing him closer. “Please. Now.”

But it was his time to tease and he ran his hands down my body, along my legs and back again.

“I didn’t want…I didn’t think…” he started, but I shut him up by nibbling on his neck, working up his jaw until I made it to his ear.

“You think too much,” I whispered.

It was all he needed. He took my legs, and in one movement thrust inside and, damn, two days had been too long. I groaned as he pushed in deeper.

“Oh, hell, yes,” I said as I took him inside. My eyes fluttered closed as he withdrew. “More. More, please.”

He answered with the force of his body, thrusting into me once again. I bumped my head on an overhead cabinet and didn’t even care.

“Harder,” I said. “Please, harder.”

“Fuck, Abigail.” He took my ass with both hands and pulled me to him as he thrust and we both moaned when his c**k hit the back of my cervix.

“Again.” I bit down on his ear. “Damn it. Again.”

We scraped and clawed and bit, him trying to get further inside and me to take more of him. I hit his ass with my heels and he sucked on my neck.

Deeper. We both wanted deeper.

“Yes,” I said when he hit my G spot. “Right there.”

“Here?” he asked, thrusting again. “Here?”

I whimpered as he drove himself into me over and over. His fingers reached between us and he brushed my clit. My orgasm was building and I felt his c**k twitch inside me.

“Harder,” I said. “Almost there.”

His fingers rubbed harder and his c**k pounded into me.

“I…I…I…” I stuttered, my belly tightening.

I fell apart. He thrust deeply one last time and held still as he released into me.

“Damn,” he said, once he could talk again. “That was…”

“I know,” I said. “I agree.”

He lifted me from the countertop and made sure I could stand before grabbing a towel and cleaning me. “That beats mushroom risotto any day.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Nathaniel cooked dinner. Usually when he cooked, I stayed in the living room or library, but I decided to sit in the kitchen with him that night. So, he cooked while I sat at the table and drank a glass of red wine. Enjoying the view, if you will.

I think he was cooking a marinara. At least, I suspected that was why he had the large label-less can out. He took out the can opener and I got up to peek over his shoulder.

“Just checking,” I said.

He smiled and hummed as the can opened. With a tentative finger, he lifted the lid. We both held our breath.

“Tomatoes,” we said in unison.

“Drat,” I said. “I was hoping for pickled cow tongue or some incriminating body parts.”

“Rather anticlimactic, don’t you think?” he asked, lifting a tomato out with a fork.

“No. It’s better to know.”

“You’re right, and it’s going to make us a delicious supper.”

He dumped the tomatoes into a sauté pan that already contained onions and garlic.

“Smells good,” I said, standing on my tiptoes to look over his shoulder. I took a big whiff as I did. Not so much to smell dinner, but to smell Nathaniel. Light musk and a hint of cedar. Yum.

“Go sit down,” he said. “I’d like to have one hot meal today.”

“Breakfast was hot,” I protested. “And lunch was hot. At least the part before lunch was hot.”

“Abigail.”

“I’m sitting, I’m sitting,” I said, walking toward the table.

I sat down and took a sip of wine. “You know, you had a breakthrough today,” I said.

His shoulders hitched slightly. “What was that?”

“You opened one of your label-less cans. I think that calls for a celebration.”

He relaxed. “What did you have in mind?”

“Naked picnic in the library?”

“That’s your idea of a celebration?” he asked, setting a large pot of water to boil.

“I should have made bread for dinner,” I said.

“You’ve done quite enough for one day.”

I raised an eyebrow and tried not to giggle. “Yes, it is my idea of a celebration.”

“Okay.” He sighed, as if he were agreeing to something horrid. “Naked picnic in the library. Thirty minutes.”

“I’ll go set up,” I said, getting up from the table.

“Extra blankets are in the linen closet,” he called over his shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, I’d set out several blankets and started a fire in the library fireplace. Four plump pillows completed my impromptu picnic set-up.

I checked the clock. Ten minutes to spare. I stripped and piled my clothes on one of the chairs.

Nathaniel came in carrying dinner on a large tray. He was already undressed.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, feasting on the sight of him.

“No. I’m fine. Let me set this down and I’ll get our drinks. More wine?”

“Please.”

He returned with two wineglasses and a bottle of red wine. I wondered if he had a wine cellar. Surely he did. Might have to check that out later.

The marinara was delicious. Of course, I expected nothing less from Nathaniel.

“This is superb,” I said after a few bites. “My compliments to the chef.”

“To label-less cans,” he said, lifting a forkful of pasta.

“To label-less cans,” I said. I went to twirl more pasta, but when I lifted my fork I did it too fast and some sauce flew off. And landed on Nathaniel’s…uh…you know.

He looked down in disbelief. “You got marinara on my cock.”

“Oops.”

“Get. It. Off.”

I was fairly certain he wasn’t wearing a sign. I leaned over and took the plate from him. “Lay back.”

“Abigail.”

“You want me to use a napkin?” I pushed down on his shoulders.

He didn’t answer, so I took that as a “no.” He put his head on one of the pillows and I ran my hands down his chest.

“The marinara, Abigail,” he said.

My fingers breezed across his nipples. “I’m getting there.”

“Get there. Faster.”

I licked down his chest. Yum. He tasted good all over. I took a nibble of his lower belly and he gasped in response. Mmmm. Nathaniel was much better than marinara. Even marinara made with label-less cans.

I dipped lower, blowing across the tip of his cock. He twitched. Ahh, yes, there it was. Hello, marinara. Sorry I was so clumsy.

Okay, that was a lie. There wasn’t a sorry bone in my body.

I cleaned the sauce off with one lick. But like I said, he tasted good all over. So until he told me to stop, I decided to stay right where I was. I rolled the tip of him around my mouth, teasing. Occasionally, I would deep throat and take him all the way in, but for the most part, I just played with him. I used my hands, stroking him, holding his c**k like it was a lollipop, licking the very tip. A drop or two leaked out and I sucked it right off.

He drew a deep breath in through his teeth. “Fuck.”

“I can stop,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I could.

“Hell, no. Swing those legs up here. I want to taste that sweet pussy.”

I shifted my body, moving us into a sixty-nine position.

He wrapped his arms around my thighs, locking me to him. He wiggled his tongue inside me and gave a lick, ending at my clit.

“Mmmmm,” he said. “Sweeter than the finest wine.” He licked again. “And I’m going to drink from you until there’s not a drop left.”

I took his whole c**k in my mouth—two could play that game—and sucked him hard.

He started a rhythm, matching his licks and nibbles to mine. I took him deep in my throat and he rammed his tongue inside me. My teeth scraped his length and his grazed my clit.

My h*ps started moving of their own will, and before too long he was thrusting into my mouth.

We rolled to our sides, kept the rhythm going, getting more leverage as he f**ked my face with his c**k and f**ked my pu**y with his tongue.

He added his fingers, thrusting three up inside me while his tongue moved to my clit. I cupped his balls and ran a finger from his sac to his ass. His c**k twitched in my mouth and he thrust harder. Doubled the tempo with his fingers.

As his c**k hit the back of my throat, he sucked my cl*t into his mouth. Our movements became more intense and we both hovered on the edge.

My lower body started to tingle and I moved my head to meet his thrusts, wanting him to come with me. I groaned. I couldn’t help it. It felt so intense, having him in my mouth while his mouth worked me. I came, my body shattering. He bit my cl*t and I came again as he thrust into my mouth, releasing in several strong streams. I swallowed frantically, not wanting a drop to escape.

He pulled me up his chest and I tucked my head under his neck.

“Dinner’s cold,” I said, snuggling into his arms.

“Screw dinner.”

We eventually got back to eating—propped up on pillows, lazy and relaxed.

I took a bite of cold pasta. It wasn’t so bad. “How long have you been a dom?”

He swirled his own pasta. “Nearly ten years.”

“Have you had a lot of subs?”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘a lot.’”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He sat his fork down. “I don’t mind having this conversation, Abigail. This is your library. But keep in mind that just because you ask a question, it doesn’t mean I’ll answer it.”

I swallowed the bite of pasta in my mouth. “Fair enough.”

“Then ask away.”

“Have you ever been a sub?”

He nodded. “Yes. But not for any extended period of time, only for a scene or two.”

Okay, that was interesting. I’d put that aside for later. “Have you ever had a sub use her safe word before?”

He watched me carefully as he answered. “No.”

“Never?”

“Never, Abigail.”

I looked down at the plate.

“Look at me,” he said, and all traces of weekday Nathaniel were gone. I was talking with Dom Nathaniel. “I know how new you are to this, and I ask you, have I ever come close to pushing you beyond what you could handle?”

“No,” I said honestly.

“Have I been gentle and patient and caring?” he asked. “Anticipated your every need?”

“Yes.”

“Do you not think I would have been gentle and patient and caring with my past subs? Anticipated their every need?”

Of course he would have. “Oh.”

“I am starting you out slowly, because I see this as a long-term relationship, but there are so many things we can do together.” He ran a finger down my arm. “So many things your body is capable of that you don’t even know yet. And just as you have to learn to trust me, I have to learn your body.”

I might as well have rolled over and died right there. I was done.