I laughed, never having known how close I’d come to not getting the rose. “And it was Martha who explained the meaning to me.”

“Remind me to send her a thankyou note,” he said, thrusting again into my hand. “Later, though. Much, much later.”

I slipped my other hand down to his groin, cupped his balls, and within minutes I’d forgotten all about Martha, work, and anything remotely pertaining to getting ready for anything except Nathaniel.

Our lips came together once more. Still softly, though, for both of us wanted to savor and prolong the moment.

He broke the kiss and cupped his hands under my br**sts. “I’ve never been so jealous of water before.” His fingers slid over my skin. “How it can touch you everywhere—all at once.”

His head dipped to my nipple and he lapped at the water there. I leaned my head against the shower wall, releasing him from my hand.

Pressing closer to where I stood, he slipped two fingers into me. I groaned and wrapped my leg around his waist. He quickened the movement of his fingers, adding his thumb into the mix, rubbing it softly against my clit.

And then, if that wasn’t enough, he whispered:

“Shy one, shy one,

Shy one of my heart,

She moves in the firelight

Pensively apart.

She carries in the dishes,

And lays them in a row.

To an isle in the water

With her would I go.

She carries in the candles,

And lights the curtained room,

Shy in the doorway

And shy in the gloom;

As shy as a rabbit,

Helpful and shy.

To an isle in the water

With her would I fly.”

His hands never stopped moving, gently working me into a frenzy so that when he reached the last line of Yeats’ poem, I thought I would fly. My orgasm overtook me and shuddered throughout my body.

“I love watching you come.” He stepped closer between my legs and moved his c**k to my entrance. “It makes me so f**king hard.”

His c**k slipped easily into me and I gasped as he thrust deeply inside. I didn’t have a chance to come down before he was driving me toward another cl**ax.

“Come with me, Abby,” he said, thrusting over and over. “Take me with you this time.”

I’d never grow tired of the way he felt inside me, or the way our bodies moved together. I slipped my arms around him and dragged my nails across his back.

“Yes,” he said in a low growl. “Fuck. Yes.”

I tightened my grasp on him as my second cl**ax began to build. He placed a hand on either side of my head and doubled his efforts, pounding into me.

“I never want to leave this shower,” he said, thrusting. “Never want to leave you. ’Cause I’m never going to f**king get enough.” My back slid against the wet tiles as he kept thrusting. “Never. Never. Never enough.”

His teeth grazed my neck and one hand came down between us to where we were joined. “Feel us. Feel me. So f**king good.”

One of his fingers flicked my cl*t and I felt my body tense. I let out a groan. He bent his legs, thrust again, and my release overtook me. With one last push, he held still deep inside and came hard.

He sagged against me as our breathing returned to normal and our hearts slowed. The drumming of the water slowly brought back the realities of the morning.

“Damn,” he said, smiling against my shoulder.

“What?”

“I need another shower.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“Ms. King,” the receptionist said. “Mr. West will see you now.”

I stood and walked toward the dark wooden door. My heart really shouldn’t have been beating as hard as it was. I knew exactly who waited for me behind the closed door. Knew him and loved him.

It was Friday night and I was at his office by my own request. Nathaniel hadn’t seen the point of what I wanted to do at first, but he eventually went along with me.

I pushed the door open, stepped through, and took a quick peek at him. His head was down and he was typing. I shut the door behind me and walked to the middle of the room.

I stood exactly as I had months ago—feet spread the width of my shoulders, head down, arms to my side.

He continued typing.

We had spent the last two weeks working out our new agreement. While sitting at his kitchen table, we discussed and negotiated what we both wanted. Explored our personal limits. Reworked safe words. Decided when and how to play. We agreed to have play time from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon and to be like any other couple from Sunday afternoon to Friday evening.

Our first argument had been over how often I would wear his collar. I had wanted it all the time, but Nathaniel felt differently.

“I wore it every day last time,” I said, not seeing the point in doing anything differently.

“But things have changed.”

“I’m not arguing with that, but by wearing it every day, I would keep that connection between us.”

“I understand why you want to wear my collar every day, but will you listen to some advice? From someone who has more experience?”

“Are you going to play the experience card often?”

“Yes.”

I huffed and leaned back in my seat.

“Abby, listen. Whether you admit it or not, the collar puts you in a certain frame of mind and I don’t want you in that frame of mind during the week. If I ask if you want peas or carrots for dinner on a Tuesday night, I want the answer to come from Abby, my lover, not Abigail, my submissive.”

“I know, but…” I trailed off. He had a point.

“I’m not giving you a meal plan or an exercise routine or stipulating sleep, or—”

“Thank goodness for that, because insisting on eight hours of sleep would severely limit our weekday activities.”

“Agreed, but to get back to what I was saying, if I want to have sex on a Wednesday and you’re not in the mood, I want you to feel free to say so. The collar—” he shook his head “—it will limit you. Even if you think it won’t.”

So we agreed I would wear his collar on weekends only.

While it had been my idea to resubmit my application and meet him at his office, we hadn’t discussed how the evening would progress. I stared at my feet and wondered if he had the collar here, in his office. I hadn’t seen it since the morning I left it on his dining room table.

I listened to his steady typing and wondered what he was thinking. What he was planning.

I pushed aside my rambling thoughts and concentrated instead on my breathing. There was no need to wonder how the evening would play out. It would play out the way Nathaniel decided and whatever he decided would be what was best for both of us.

I had no doubts.

He stopped typing.

“Abigail King.”

I didn’t start when he said my name. I expected it this time and kept my head down.

He pushed back from the desk and walked across the hardwood floor. I counted his steps.

Ten.

Ten steps and he stopped behind me. He lifted my hair, twisted it around his hand, and pulled. “I was easy on you last time,” he said in a low, commanding voice.

My belly quivered with anticipation. Nathaniel the Dom was back.

I’d missed him.

He pulled my hair harder and I forced myself to keep my head down.

“You told me once that you could handle anything I gave you physically,” he said. “Do you remember?”

Yes, damn it. I remembered saying those exact words. I should have known they would come back to bite me in the ass.

He jerked my hair. “I’m going to test that theory, Abigail. We’ll see just how much you’re able to handle.”

He let go of my hair and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

“I’m going to train you,” he said walking to stand before me so I stared at the top of his leather dress shoes. “Train you to service my every need, desire, and want. From now on when I give a command, I expect you to obey immediately and without question. Any hesitation, raised eyebrow, or disobedience will be dealt with on the spot. Is that understood?”

I waited.

“Look at me and answer,” he said. “Do you understand?”

I looked up and into his steady green eyes. “Yes, Master.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he scolded. “I thought you learned that lesson last time.”

Last time? What?

“How do you address me before you I collar you?”

Shit.

“Yes, sir.”

“I let that mistake slide before,” he said, walking to his desk. “But like I said, I won’t be as lenient this time around.”

My heart pounded. I really hadn’t expected to mess up so soon.

“Lift your skirt and put your hands on top of my desk.”

I walked to the front of his desk and lifted my skirt above my waist. Was his secretary still outside? Would she hear? I put my hands on his desk and braced myself.

“Three strokes. Count.”

His hand swooshed through the air and landed with a slap on my backside. Ow.

“One,” I said.

Again it came, landing on a different spot.

“Two.”

Only one more. I clenched my teeth as he struck the third time.

“Three.”

He stopped and rubbed my backside, soothing the pain away with his expert hands. His touch felt good and I had to force myself to remain still. He pulled my skirt down.

“Go stand where you were,” he whispered.

I walked back to my spot in the middle of his office. In a way, I felt more at ease. I’d messed up and he’d dealt with it. We continued. Nothing to fear.

“Do you remember your safe words?” Nathaniel said from the side of his desk.

I thought back to that conversation.

We were at the kitchen table again.

“Two?” I asked. “You’re giving me two safe words?”

“It’s a commonly used system,” he said, writing something down.

“But last time—”

He looked up. “I already explained my error in the way I set things up last time, Abby. I won’t have you walk out on me again.”

I reached across the table to take his hand. “I’m not leaving. I just don’t know why I have to have two safe words.”

“Because we’ll be pushing your limits. If you say ‘yellow’, I’ll know I’m pushing, but can continue. ‘Red’ stops the scene completely.”

It still seemed a bit much.

“But you’ve never had a sub safe word before,” I said.

“I have now,” he said, lifting my hand to his lips. “And I want you to feel completely safe and secure anytime you’re with me. Even when I’m pushing you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, snapping back to the present. “I remember the safe words.”

“Good.” He went back behind his desk, opened another drawer, and took out a box. Opened it.

My collar.

He lifted it up. “Are you ready, Abigail?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, smiling.

He walked back to stand in front of me again. “Kneel.”

I dropped to my knees. He slipped the necklace around my neck, fastened it in place. I felt complete again.

“I’ll put this on you every Friday evening at six o’clock and take it off Sunday afternoons at three,” he said, fingers trailing my collarbone.

We had decided that would give us plenty of time to play on Friday night and plenty of time on Sundays to talk about our weekend and transition back to everyday behavior.

We had also decided what would happen immediately after he collared me every Friday night. But I waited for him to instruct me.

“Stand up,” he said.

I stood, confused. This was not what we had agreed

His eyes shone with emotion. “You look so f**king good wearing my collar.” He put a hand under my chin and kissed me. Hard.