Page 17 of Master Key Resort

While Sir checked in at the front desk, Tiffany called her mother to say they’d arrived at their first hotel safely. She’d promised she would call her each night until they arrived at their final destination, just to ease her mother’s worry. By the time Tiffany disconnected the call, Sir had rejoined her, and then escorted her to the hotel’s elegantly decorated steakhouse. She worried they were underdressed, but a quick glance at the clientele revealed there was a broad range of attire, from suits and dresses to shorts and T-shirts.

The dining room was only half full, and Sir’s request for a quiet table away from others was granted. The table for four only had two place settings, next to each other and overlooking a beautiful, outdoor garden with lush plants, vibrant flowers, and a waterfall cascading into a koi pond. Sir pulled out Tiffany’s chair for her before taking his own seat.

After the waiter had given them their menus and rattled off the night’s specials, he took their drink order, then left to fulfill it. Cordell put his hand out. “May I have your limit list, please?”

With trembling hands, she withdrew it from her purse and gave it to him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, to the point she’d be surprised if Sir didn’t hear it. Tiffany watched him scan the pages, his expression never changing. He definitely had that cop face down pat—the one that made suspects wonder just exactly how much the police knew about their crimes. Not knowing what he was thinking or feeling was ratcheting up her nerves again, and she was grateful when the waiter returned with their drinks and a basket filled with bread and butter. She forced herself to sip, not gulp, her glass of Pinot Gris.

When Cordell placed the papers face down on the table in front of him, the waiter asked, “Are you ready to order, sir?”

“Tiffany?”

“Um ...” She hadn’t even looked at the menu and doubted she’d be able to read it right now. Recalling one of the specials had been a salmon dish, she ordered that and the house dressing on the salad.

Looking at his own menu, Sir chuckled softly, probably figuring out her reasoning for choosing the fish dish. “They do have Chateaubriand, sweetheart. Why don’t I get that, and we’ll share, hmm?” Not waiting for an answer, he handed the menu to the waiter. “Medium rare, please, and Russian dressing on the salad.”

“Very good, sir.”

After retrieving Tiffany’s untouched menu, the waiter left them alone, and Cordell picked up her limit list and studied it again. “You’ve made a few changes, I see.”

She still couldn’t tell if those changes pleased or disappointed him, so she took a sip of her wine and quietly waited for him to say something more. Of course, Sir wasn’t in a rush to quell her anxiety. He folded the papers in half and put them to the side of his bread plate. Selecting a warm roll from the basket that’d been set on the table, he took his time buttering it. Before taking a bite out of it, he leaned to the side and pulled several folded papers out of the back pocket of his cargo shorts. Handing them to her, he said, “Here’s my new list for you to look over, pet. You’ll find several changes, but make sure you read the added items at the end on the third page. The second set of papers is an updated contract with those changes made to it.”

With a suddenly dry mouth, she read through the first two pages of his limits—sex, anal, and blowjobs had all been moved into his green column. Yes! She tried to hide the thrill coursing through her but doubted she’d masked her expression as efficiently as Sir had.

Nothing else had changed on the first two-thirds of the list that she’d noticed, so Tiffany continued to the third page. This one held the list of body-fluid play and other darker play she wasn’t into, and she was relieved to see they were all still on Sir’s hard limits. Below that section was where a Dom or sub could add on anything that wasn’t listed anywhere else. She read Sir’s handwritten entries.

1. The aforementioned submissive will wax her legs instead of shaving them from now on.

She smiled and giggled at that one, but then her heart stopped, and she froze when she read the next item.

2. The sub shall maintain birth control of her choice and advise her Dom, immediately, if there are any complications with it. Both parties will have health checkups every six months instead of the three required in the original contract.

That was okay since neither of them had been with anyone else since they’d signed their first contract and their last checkups had been clean.

3. The submissive will no longer be allowed to wear panties without her Dom’s permission.

Okaaaaaay.

4. The aforementioned submissive will sleep, naked, in her Dom’s bed every night from now on, unless unforeseen circumstances, such as travel or illness, prevent it.

Holy shit. Sleeping in his bed? All night and every night? The thought excited and terrified her at the same time. How was she supposed to keep from falling irreversibly in love with the man if she was sharing the same bed with him? She was already halfway there. But she couldn’t deny that was where she wanted to sleep each night, curled up next to him, letting him hold her and keep her warm. Letting him make love to her any time he wanted. Her heart, mind, and body were in agreement—she couldn’t say no.

Still in shock, Tiffany lifted her chin until her gaze met Sir’s. He was smiling and holding out a pen. “I’ve already signed your limit list, pet. If you agree with mine, please sign it and the attached contract with the new changes. If not, then tell me which items you’re not comfortable with, and we’ll discuss them.”

Sure enough, his signature was next to hers on the last page of her limit list on the table in front of him. Her hand was shaking almost uncontrollably when she tried to take the pen from him, but he waited until she had a good grip before letting it go. Her signature looked like chicken scratch next to his, but she managed to sign it without pressing so hard the pen tip went through the paper.

When she handed the three sheets and pen back to Sir, his eyes filled with warmth and desire. “Thank you, pet.”

“Y-you’re welcome, Sir.”

An hour later, Tiffany couldn’t say what her food had tasted like if her life depended on it. She didn’t even remember eating it, but her plate had been empty when the waiter removed it from the table. All she could think about was being in Sir’s bed ... starting tonight.

* * *

Cordell was in pain.His dick was so hard, he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t ripped the seams of his shorts. Carrying his and Tiffany’s overnight bags in one hand, and Eastwood’s carrier in the other, he led the way down the hallway to their third-floor room—the one with a king-sized bed in it. Yes, he’d taken a huge risk by assuming Tiffany wouldn’t balk at signing the updated contract indicating she’d spend her nights in his bed, but, thankfully, she’d agreed to it. Now, he had to get his hormones and cock under control, so he didn’t attack her like a rabid animal as soon as they were behind closed doors. His sub still had things she had to deal with before he tossed off the kid gloves for good.

After finding their room, Tiffany unlocked the door, and he gestured for her to go in before him. The room appeared clean and comfortable. Cordell set their bags down—his on a luggage rack next to the closet and Tiffany’s on the dresser—then placed the carrier on the floor and opened the door. Eastwood meowed loudly as he darted out.

Tiffany had brought up the two tote bags containing a travel-sized litter box, cat food, two small bowls, and a few toys. Within minutes, they had Eastwood set up with dinner, water, and a place to take a poop when he was done.

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