Page 34 of His Dark Hunger

She mumbled compliance as moving toward the line of decanters, she reached for the brandy. She knew which was which. Hell, the number of times Kyle had commanded she serve him alcohol in both that room and his study meant she was practically a connoisseur. Finding five crystal tumblers, she lifted the correct decanter and carefully poured the measures while the men assembled and chose seats behind her.

Placing down the crystal container, she traced a fingertip over the baroque teak dresser, her mind dipping back to dinner. The rest of the meal had passed in a clouded blur. Course after course of tempting food that she was either hurrying in or out of the dining room. The experience had been sheathed by rounds of rolling conversations that should have humbled, yet seemed to wash over her like rain bouncing off an umbrella.

Something about eating from the floor in front of them all had broken the back of her humiliation, as though she doubted Kyle could ever find the edge of her limits again. Not that she sought to test her thesis—she knew Kyle too well for that—but she recognized something had shifted as she kneeled there, lapping tomato juice from the crockery by Kyle’s guest’s leather shoes.

Closing her eyes to fully absorb her feelings, she was right back there in that mortifying moment. She’d been horrified when Kyle had initially given the order, but as with all her experiences with him, the acquiescence had lit her up, igniting a sense of life she’d scarcely grasped until then. She remembered how fast her heart had been beating and how, in the end, she’d settled into the role, playing his pet as she cleaned the plate with her tongue.

Assenting to the madness and obeying Kyle was one thing, but doing so in front of strangers—putting on a show to titillate and entertain—that was something else. Finding herself on the floor had been galvanizing, and by the time he’d instructed her to stand, she accepted a part of her was a different woman.

She pulled in a steadying breath, grateful once again for the warmth and protection of Kyle’s jacket. The scent of him lingered on his collar, swathing her in a giddying wave of his cologne, which was predictably reassuring. Wherever there was Kyle, there was comfort, even if it came with a large dose of embarrassing humility. Gripping the edge of his dresser, she was once again struck by an unexpected certainty. Whatever transpired between the two of them, something had changed within her. Discovering that she could be inflamedby the ignominy he inflicted was transformative. There was no coming back from that.

“Little girl?” Kyle’s voice jarred, disturbing her from her daydream. Turning, she flushed guiltily. “Is there a problem?”

“No, sir.” She moved to collect the nearby small silver tray. “I’m coming.”

“Now, that I’d like to see.”

One of them chuckled at his quip, but she didn’t glance back to identify which one. Instead, she placed each tumbler on the tray, taking care not to spill a drop of liquor as she lifted the serving dish in her hands.

“Serve my guests first.” Kyle’s order echoed from his usual spot. It was the same seat he’d sat in while she’d dusted his glassware. “Then come to me.”

He clicked his fingers by the side of the chair, and if it wasn’t the damnedest thing, she swore her body softened at the gesture. Her throat dried, her nipples pebbling beneath the confines of his lapels as she walked toward the circle of recliners.

How he accomplished the effect on her body, she had no idea, but she no longer fought to resist the sensations. Kyle’s authority soothed her, and after so long being thrown around in the tides of debt and despair, she craved the life raft he offered.

“Sir.” She lowered to offer the first of the men a brandy.

Showing the balding imbecile deference with the title hardly mattered to her anymore. She recalled she hadn’t liked his tone at dinner, but beyond that, his view was of norelevance. There was only Kyle, his needs and expectations, and the promise of what was to come if she kept pleasing him. The promise of so much more than only a debt-free existence.

“Thank you.” The idiot grinned, his eyes scanning her body as though too much of it was covered.

“You’re welcome.” She walked away, presenting another brandy, then another, until there was only one remaining—Kyle’s.

Focusing on the man who spiked her heart rate, she edged toward him. Kyle hadn’t spoken to her about his after-dinner plans, but it seemed abruptly obvious that he would have something in mind to regale his guests, and the simmering excitement in her belly realized she might well be the centerpiece.

“Sir.” She lowered to her knees as he’d taught her to do, lifting her arms to offer him the final drink. Head lowered, she didn’t see the moment he took the glass, but she sensed the weight shift as he replied.

“Thank you, little girl. Here.” He grasped the other side of the silver. “Let me take that for you.”

“What does she do for an encore?”

Amy thought she recognized the same harsh tone she’d heard from the balding guy before, but she didn’t turn to acknowledge it.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Nigel?” Kyle’s hand lowered toward her, and without needing to be told, she crawled closer, rubbing her heated face against his digits as though they’d somehow save her from the shame.

Save me?

She bit back a smile at the preposterous idea. As if she needed saving. Whether she comprehended her body’s responses or not, Amy was having a whale of a time. Providing Kyle with what he needed and making a show of it for his peers was even hotter than she’d imagined it would be. And despite her reticence, shehadimagined.

“She does whatever he asks her to.” The one who’d wiped her face at dinner, Shaun, spoke.

“That’s right.” Kyle’s fingers stroked the side of her face. “She’s the yin to my yang.”

A rumble of laughter met his judgment as she snuggled closer to the reassurance of his hand.

“Up, Amy.”

Only two words, but they promised such sweet torment as they forced her from the relative sanctuary of her haunches to her knees.

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