Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 886(@200wpm)___ 709(@250wpm)___ 590(@300wpm)
“Come here.”
She steps between my legs and puts her arms around my neck. I hold her close against me. “Are you okay?” I whisper into her hair.
“Okay?”
“After what happened with that fucker? After what happened yesterday?” I lean back and study her expression.
“Yes,” she replies, solemn and emphatic.
To try to reassure me?
I tighten my arms around her. What a weird couple of days this has been. Too much too fast, maybe. And my old life impinging on my new one. She still hasn’t responded to my marriage proposal. Perhaps I shouldn’t push her for an answer right now.
She holds me close and, for the first time since this morning, I feel calm and centered. “Let’s not fight.” I kiss her hair. “You smell heavenly as usual, Ana.”
“So do you.” She kisses my neck.
Reluctantly, I release her and stand. I have to read those agreements. “I should only be a couple of hours.”
MY EYES ARE TIRED. I rub my face and pinch the bridge of my nose, and glance out of the window. It’s getting dark, but I’ve finished going through both documents. I’ve made notes and forwarded them to Marco.
Now it’s time to find Ana.
Maybe she’d like to watch TV or something. I loathe TV, but I’d sit with her and watch a film.
I expect to find her in the library, but she’s not there.
Maybe she took a bath?
No. She’s not in the bedroom or the ensuite.
I decide to check the sub’s room but on my way there I notice that the playroom door is open. Looking inside, I see Ana is sitting on the bed, gazing with distaste at all the canes. With a grimace she looks away.
I should get rid of them.
I lean against the doorframe in silence and watch her. She slips from the bed onto the couch, her hands running over the soft leather. She spies the chest of drawers, rises, makes her way toward it, and opens the top drawer.
Well, this is unexpected.
From the chest, she pulls out a large butt plug and, fascinated, examines it, then tests the weight in her hand. It’s a little big for a newcomer to anal pleasure, but I’m mesmerized by her captivated expression. Her hair is a little damp and she’s wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt.
No bra.
Nice.
Glancing up, she spots me by the door. “Hi,” she says, all breathy and nervous.
“What are you doing?”
She blushes. “Um, I was bored and curious.”
“That’s a very dangerous combination.” I wander into the room to join her. Leaning over, I glance at the open drawer to see what else is inside. “So, what exactly are you curious about, Miss Steele? Perhaps I could enlighten you.”
“The door was open,” she says hastily. “I—” She stops, looking guilty.
Put her out of her misery, Grey.
“I was in here earlier today, wondering what to do with it all. I must have forgotten to lock it.”
“Oh?”
“But now here you are, curious as ever.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“I feel like I’m trespassing. And you’re always mad at me.”
Am I? “Yes, you’re trespassing, but I’m not mad. I hope that one day you’ll live with me here, and all this”—I wave my hand around the room—“will be yours, too. That’s why I was in here today. Trying to decide what to do.” I watch her expression, thinking about what she’s just said. I’m mostly angry at myself, not her. “Am I angry with you all the time? I wasn’t this morning.”
She smiles. “You were playful. I like playful Christian.”
“Do you, now?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and returning her smile. I love her compliments.
“What’s this?” She holds up the toy she’s been examining.
“Always hungry for information, Miss Steele. That’s a butt plug.”
“Oh.” She looks surprised.
“Bought for you.”
“For me?”
I nod.
“You buy new, er…toys…for each submissive?”
“Some things. Yes.”
“Butt plugs?”
Definitely. “Yes.”
She eyes it warily and places it back in the drawer.
“And this?” She waves some anal beads at me.
“Anal beads.”
She runs them through her fingers—intrigued, I think.
“They have quite an effect if you pull them out mid-orgasm,” I add.
“This is for me?” she asks, referring to the beads. She keeps her voice low, as if she doesn’t want to be overheard.
“For you.”
“This is the butt drawer?”
I stifle my chuckle. “If you like.”
She turns a lovely shade of pink and closes it.
“Don’t you like the butt drawer?” I tease.
“It’s not top of my Christmas-card list.”
There’s her smart mouth. She opens the second drawer. Oh, this will be fun. “Next drawer down holds a selection of vibrators.”
She shuts it quickly. “And the next?”
“That’s more interesting.”
Slowly she opens the next one down. She picks out a toy and shows it to me.
“Genital clamp.” Hastily, she puts it back in the drawer and chooses something else. I remember they were a hard limit for her. “Some of these are for pain, but most are for pleasure,” I reassure her.