Your first weekend? my sensible side asked. You think there will be more?

I decided to ignore my sensible side.

The single bed wasn’t big enough for two people and I huffed in disappointment as I made it. Apparently, Nathaniel wouldn’t be joining me in my bedroom. And from the sounds of it, nights spent in his would be few and far between.

I passed the indoor gym on my way to the kitchen and heard Nathaniel on a treadmill. I glanced at my watch and cringed. Six thirty-five. No time to make my signature breakfast of French toast with banana foster sauce. Maybe another day.

Nathaniel walked into the dining room seconds after I set his scrambled eggs, toast, and cut fruit on the table. His hair was freshly washed and he smelled all outdoorsy and musky. Delicious. My heart raced just thinking about tasting him.

I stood by his right side as he ate. Not once did he look my way, but he gave a small sigh of satisfaction after the first bite.

When he finished eating, he looked up at me. “Make yourself a plate and eat in the kitchen. Come to my bedroom in an hour. Page five, paragraph two.”

And with that, he left the dining room.

Why would he bother telling me to eat right before ordering me to his bedroom? Like I’d be able to eat anything, thinking about his words. But I scrambled an egg, cut up more fruit, and ate at the kitchen table like he’d told me to.

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window and outside Nathaniel was walking with Apollo. The dog galloped through the large yard, scaring the birds on the lawn. Nathaniel was on the phone, but when Apollo came up to him, he reached down and ran a hand through his fur.

I sighed and looked around the kitchen. I wondered if the blonde ever ate at the kitchen table and if she was a good cook.

Regardless, she was gone. I was the one in his house, at least for the weekend.

I cleaned up the breakfast plates and made my way upstairs.

Page five, paragraph two was what I called the OB/ GYN pose. Lying in the middle of Nathaniel’s big bed, without a stitch of clothing on, I felt exactly like I was at the doctor’s office. I actually missed that flimsy bit of paper they give you.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing, telling myself I’d be up to anything Nathaniel had planned. Maybe he’d finally touch me.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

I jerked. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

“I like you spread out like this,” he said. “Take your hands and pretend they’re mine. Touch yourself.”

He was driving me crazy. I’d tried to imagine how the weekend would go, and so far it was nothing like I’d thought. He hadn’t touched me once. It was so unfair.

“Now, Abigail.”

I lifted my hands to my br**sts, and in my mind they became his hands. It was easy. I’d done this a hundred times.

Nathaniel’s warm breath brushed across my ear as his hands caressed me. His touch started out soft and gentle, but quickly grew rough as our breathing became choppy.

He was needy and I was what he needed.

He was hungry and I was the only thing he could consume.

With painful slowness, he rolled the tip of one nipple and then the other. I bit the inside of my cheek, awash in the sensations he created. He pinched, pulling hard, and then harder when I gasped.

I became the needy one. I needed him. Wanted him. Craved him. I trailed a hand down my stomach—aching and desperate to be filled. Wanting him to fill me.

He pushed my knees further apart and I was spread before him in offering. He would take me, finally. Take me and be done with it. He’d fill me like I’d never been filled before.

“You disappoint me, Abigail.”

Dream Nathaniel disappeared. My eyelids fluttered.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

He was inches from my face and I smelled the maleness of him. My heart beat frantically while I waited for him to continue.

“You had me stuffed in your mouth last night and now you use a single finger to represent my cock?”

I slipped another finger inside. Yes. Better.

“Another.”

I added a third and started moving them in and out.

“Harder,” he whispered. “I’d f**k you harder.”

I wouldn’t last long, not with that type of talk. I pushed deeper, imagining him stretching me. My legs tightened and a low groan escaped my lips.

“Now,” Nathaniel said and I exploded.

There was utter silence for several minutes as my breathing returned to normal. I opened my eyes and found him standing beside the bed, forehead glistening with sweat. His erection strained against the front of his pants.

“That was an easy orgasm, Abigail,” he said, staring at me with those sultry green eyes. “Don’t expect that to happen often.”

But on the upside, I thought, at least it sounded like there would be more.

“I have a previous engagement this afternoon and won’t be here for lunch. There are steaks in the refrigerator you will serve me at six in the dining room.” His eyes swept over my body and I forced myself to remain still. “You need to shower since you didn’t have time this morning.”

Damn, the man didn’t miss anything.

“And,” he continued, “there are yoga DVDs in the gym. Make use of them. You may leave.”

I didn’t see him again until six o’clock that night. If the steak dinner had been some sort of test and he wanted to see me fail, he would be sadly disappointed. I’d been known to bring grown men to their knees with my steak.

Okay, that was a lie. And I knew I had no hope of bringing Nathaniel West to his knees, but I could still cook up a pretty mean steak.

Of course, he didn’t compliment my cooking. But he’d asked me to eat with him, so I sat in silence beside him.

I picked up a forkful of steak and put it in my mouth. I wanted to ask where he’d been all afternoon. If he lived in the city during the week. But we were at the dining room table and I couldn’t.

After we finished, he told me to follow him. We walked through the house past his bedroom to the room before mine. He opened the door, stepped to the side, and bid me enter first.

The room was dark. A single small lamp gave the only light. From the ceiling two thick chains with shackles were suspended. I spun around to gape at him.

He didn’t look surprised. “Do you trust me, Abigail?”

“I…I…” I stuttered.

He walked around me and unbuckled a shackle. “What did you think our arrangement would entail? I thought you were well aware of what you were getting yourself into.”

Yes, I knew. But I thought chains and shackles would come later. Much, much later.

“If we are to progress, you must trust me.” He unbuckled the other shackle. “Come here.”

I hesitated.

“Or,” he said, “you can leave and not come back.”

I walked toward him.

“Very good,” he said. “Take your clothes off.”

It was worse than the night before. At least then I’d had some idea of what he wanted. Even earlier on his bed hadn’t been too horrible. But this, this was madness.

The crazy part of me relished it.

When I was completely naked, he took my arms, stretched them above my head, and chained them. He stepped away and took his shirt off. Rummaging through a drawer in a nearby table, he took out a scarf, and came back.

He lifted the black material. “Your other senses will be heightened when I blindfold you.”

Then he tied the scarf around my eyes and the room went dark. I heard footsteps and then there was nothing. No light. No sound. Nothing. Just the racing thump of my heart and my shaky breathing.

Light as air, something brushed my hair aside and I jumped.

“What do you feel, Abigail?” he whispered. “Be honest.”

“Fear,” I answered in my own whisper. “I feel fear.”

“Understandable, but completely unnecessary. I would never cause you harm.”

Something delicate circled my breast. Excitement pulsed between my legs.

“What do you feel now?” he asked.

“Anticipation.”

He chuckled and the sound reverberated along my spine. I felt him draw another circle—teasingly, barely touching me. “And if I told you this was a riding crop, what would you feel?”

A riding crop? My breath caught. “Fear.”

The crop swished through the air and landed sharply on my breast. I gasped at the sensation. It hurt briefly, but not too bad.

“See?” he asked. “Nothing to fear. I won’t cause you harm.” The crop hit my knees. “Spread your legs.”

I felt even more exposed now. My heart doubled its tempo, but something inside me was lit with excitement.

He trailed the crop from my knees to the apex between my legs. Right where I was most needy. “I could whip you here,” he said. “What do you think about that?”

“I…I don’t know,” I confessed.

The crop smacked three times in quick succession right near my clit. It stung, but the sting was replaced almost immediately by the need for more.

“And now?” he asked, the crop swishing gentle as a butterfly between my legs.

“More,” I begged. “I need more.”

The crop circled gently a few times before he snapped it against my aching center. Again and again it struck, each time bringing a pain laced with sweet pleasure. I cried out as it hit again.

“You look so good chained before me, pulling against my restraints, in my house, crying for my whip.” The crop tickled my breast once more. “Your body is begging for release, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I admitted, surprised at how much I needed release. I pulled against the chains, wanting to touch myself, to bring myself pleasure if he wouldn’t.

“And you’ll have it.” The crop smacked against my core once more. “But not tonight.”

I whimpered as I heard him walk away. Somewhere in the room, a drawer opened. I pulled on the chains again. What did he mean, not tonight?

“I’m going to unchain you now,” he said. “You will go straight to bed. You will sleep n**ed and you will not touch yourself at all. There will be severe consequences if you disobey.”

He undid the chains one at a time, gently rubbing a sweet-smelling lotion on each wrist. Then he removed the blindfold. “Do you understand?”

I looked in his deep, green eyes and knew he meant what he said. “Yes, sir.”

It would be a long night.

CHAPTER FIVE

The smell of bacon woke me the next morning.

I jumped out of bed and ran to my watch. Six-thirty. Why was Nathaniel cooking? He hadn’t said anything about what time to meet him for breakfast. Surely I couldn’t be in trouble for not knowing he wanted breakfast earlier, right?

I rushed through another morning ritual of bed making, brushing my teeth, and dressing. I wasn’t sure what time I’d be headed home. Maybe I’d have time later for a shower.

I made it downstairs right at seven. Nathaniel sat at the kitchen table and two places were out.

“Good morning, Abigail,” he said. There was an excitement in his voice and eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Did you sleep well?”

I’d slept horribly. It was bad enough I’d gone to bed all hot and needy, but sleeping n**ed had done nothing to help. Memories of what he’d done to me the previous night flooded my mind.

“No.” I sat down. “Not really.”

“Go ahead and eat.”

He’d cooked for an army: bacon, eggs, and fresh blueberry muffins. I raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled.

“Do you sleep?” I asked.

“On occasion.”

I nodded as if that made perfect sense and dove into my food. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. I’d finished three slices of bacon and half my eggs before he spoke again.