Page 116 of For the Sub

He waited, sudden nerves in his stomach.

Her response mattered more than he’d thought it might.

She traced the circle then she looked up at him, her finger still on the silver. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Ridiculously pleased, he exhaled and picked it up.

This part, he had imagined.

All week, he’d thought of little else except seeing her again, fucking, dominating her.

If this event hadn’t been on his calendar, he would have invented a reason to see her.

Even if she wasn’t an amazingly skilled web designer, he might have hired her as a reason to stay in contact.

He’d returned to Denver a few days before but even when he’d been at the cabin, he’d recognized that the walls echoed with loneliness, while her house was a crazy mess of noise and activity.

Part of him yearned for the sense of home that she created.

Numerous times, he’d intentionally shoved that realization aside.

He’d chosen his life, and he liked it.

But fuck if he could make himself believe that.

“Would you like to put it on me, Sir?”

Her soft question brought him back to the present, and he shook his head to clear the memories.

They had tonight and the rest of the weekend.

And he was going to enjoy every moment, taking her in the most creative ways possible.

If she could walk or sit down comfortably at the end of their time together, he’d consider himself a failure.

She lifted her hair, and turned her back to him, giving him a view, once more, of her delectable derriere.

Damn.

She was beautiful in every way.

“Sir?”

“Enjoying the sight of your ass and considering stuffing a butt plug up there.”

Gasping, she glanced back toward him. “You’re not serious, Sir!”

“I brought a couple. Large ones. At least as big as my dick.”

His beautiful Brandy shifted her weight from foot to foot.

“The idea of you walking a little awkwardly and needing to wiggle around when you sit makes my cock hard.”

But the thoughts had to suffice.

He was well aware of her need to be seen as his partner this evening, and not his submissive. “Tomorrow, I’ll fill you up.”

Her shoulders fell and her lips parted. “Thank you, Sir.” Gratitude filled her voice.

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