Vivienne fetched herself another hunk of bread and mopped it pensively around her bowl. Perhaps at some point in the future she would be able to imagine a set of circumstances in which this would not be so damn awkward. And yet she was angry with herself. Did it need to be as complicated as she was making it?
Who among her colleagues would really care if she introduced Ash as her boyfriend? If she could smile and mutely nod her way through most of the tattle, there was no need to discuss their relationship. No one needed to know that they had met on a fetish website, and who could dispute if she simply said she preferred not to talk about her private life?
The mere idea revolted her though. More so than ever with the twin satiation and yearning of the weekend freshly imprinted on her mind.
He is not for them. Not to look at, not to touch. Mine.
It was a visceral, primitive impulse that cannoned up from her core, and Vivienne couldn’t deny it. She chewed her soup-flavored bread and peered gloomily at the stargazer lilies and the rain spotting the window behind them.
No, it was no good. She didn’t mind Ash being here before the guests arrived—hell, she liked the idea of letting him help her prepare—but she refused to share him with them. He was hers and, despite her intermittent urges to show him off, if she could have kept him under lock and key she would have.
Vivienne’s pink-tipped fingers slackened around her piece of bread and her eyes widened as a ridiculous, impossible and yet incredibly fascinating idea wormed itself into her mind.
Oh yes. Now that was a plan…
* * * * *
She didn’t mention her idea to Ash. They had plenty else to talk about and Friday loomed soon enough anyway. The office had been buzzing all week and Amanda seemed to have found every excuse known to womankind to call Vivienne over with an imperious finger-wave, just so she could ask questions about the menu.
After the initial irritation, Vivienne started to enjoy it. There was a kind of power play to it, she decided, although it wasn’t worth her while to tease her boss too much with threats of bland, homely cuisine and cheap chardonnay.
When Friday arrived, she was feeling surprisingly calm. She’d taken care of most of the housework, bought enough food and wine for a Roman feast, and all that remained was to put it all together.
She was in the kitchen when the doorbell rang, still wearing the dark slacks, slippers and sweater that she’d changed into when she’d arrived home after lunch. Later Vivienne would slip into her sleek black skirt and stockings teamed with a sheer blouse and smoky eyes, and she would fix her smile in place and get ready to be charming and witty until finally everybody had gone home and left her once again with the security of her peace and quiet—and she would have this place and her boy all to herself.
She wiped her hands on the dishcloth with cartoon cupcakes printed on it and went to answer the door.
It was raining outside. He wore a navy wool coat, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed, droplets of water clinging to his skin and standing like beads of gold in his hair.
“Hello, Miss.”
Vivienne smiled, awash with a sense of relief—ridiculous, because it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have come—and pride.
“Come in, sweetie.”
He obeyed and presented her with the three bottles of wine he’d brought, the bag of assorted last-minute supplies she’d asked him to pick up and the bunches of fresh herbs from the farmers’ market that was close to his place. The mix of things she had asked for and things he’d chosen to present to her as gifts ignited a small bloom of satisfaction in her.
“Where should I start?” Ash asked, shucking off his coat.
Beneath it he wore a striped blue-and-green sweater and pale chinos, accentuating his long legs and lean frame. Vivienne eyed him approvingly, pleased both by the way he looked and also that he’d dressed casually, with no subtle attempt at fitting in with the dinner party crowd. Clearly he didn’t expect her to go back on her word and he’d made no attempt to push her toward doing so.
Naturally. Still…good boys should get their rewards.
A curl of pleasure shot through her as she pictured what she planned to do to him and he looked a little uncertain at the breadth of her smile.
“You can put the desserts together,” she said. “And batch the cocktails. I’ve already done the confit potatoes and the velouté for the scallops and the chicken ballotines are chilling, so there’s just those to finish off, the vegetables to caramelize, then the broccoli to steam before I start serving. The hors d’oeuvres need to be finished off, I suppose. Pretty much everything else was done ahead. Saves time.”
Ash grinned. “Well…free time is a good thing.”
Vivienne raised an eyebrow. “I know what you’re thinking, sweetie.”
His grin widened. “And…?”
She frowned in mock reproach, pursing her lips. “Naughty. There’s no time for that until after they’ve gone.”
“Really?” Ash looked crestfallen. “Oh. Okay. What, uh, what time d’you want me to be out of the way by?”
Vivienne wanted to wince at his choice of words. It was cruel, as if she were sweeping him aside, hiding him under the rug…and that wasn’t true. It wasn’t fair.
She chose not to hold it against him, however, and reached out, slipping her fingers through his belt and tugging him closer.
“That depends,” she murmured as he drew nearer, the scent of his skin and the faint overlay of white soap teasing her senses.
“On what, Miss?”
He looked down at her, his expression softly obedient and his damp hair darkened to a golden brown by the rain.
“How quiet do you think you can be, sweetie?” she asked, slipping her fingers beneath the hem of his sweater to stroke the soft skin of his belly. “Do you think you could wait for me while they’re here, hmm?”
Ash’s stomach tightened under her fingers. “Wait for you, Miss?”
“Mm-hm.” Vivienne leaned closer, raising herself up on her toes until her breath could graze his lips. “While they’re here, could you wait quietly? So-ooo quietly. Wait for me upstairs? In the bedroom?”
His hazel eyes widened as he slowly grasped her meaning and he began to smile.
“Um, Miss…”
Vivienne let her hand slide farther up his torso, tracing the gentle ridges of his ribs and stroking her nails across his chest, all within the warm confines of his sweater. She pushed herself up farther on her toes so she could whisper in his ear.
“You’re mine, sweetie. I want to tie you down, make you wait for me. I want you to know that I’m downstairs, whiling away the minutes until I can get up there again and use you just the way I want to.”
His cheeks started to redden and his throat bobbed before he answered.
“But… I thought—”
“No one would know you’re there,” she murmured, feeling the heat in his body as he started to tense, his cock twitching in response to the fantasy she painted. “My dirty little secret. My dirty, dirty boy…”
Ash swallowed heavily, his breath an audible scrape on the air. “Is that what you want, Miss?”
Vivienne pulled back a little, staring into his eyes. They’d grown bright with fascination, his expression a blend of intense seriousness and hopeful glee. He was clearly excited by the idea…and she had to admit that the thought was making her wet too.
“I’ll tell you what I don’t want,” she said, her voice sliding into that smooth, authoritative tone that always hit him right in the knees and made him hers for the taking. “I don’t want to see you walk out of that door tonight. Even if you’re not sitting at the table, I want you here.”
His whole face shone at that, his lips curling into a big, delicious smile.
“Yes, Miss,” he said, his voice low and throaty.
In the warmth beneath his sweater, Vivienne dug her nails into his chest, never once breaking eye contact.
“You’re mine,” she whispered. “Yes?”
Ash’s intake of breath hissed over his teeth. “Yes, Miss! Yours…”
She smiled slowly and flicked her thumbnail across his nipple, drawing a shiver and a sharp gasp from him.
“Damn straight. Now go and make cocktails. There’s prosecco and crème de cassis on the bar. Did you bring the gin like I asked? Good boy. There are fresh lemons. You can make Aviators and Prosecco Royale. The pitchers are out. Once they’re chilling, I need the desserts assembled.”
Vivienne turned crisply and, pushing back her sleeves, returned to the kitchen.
* * * * *
There was something blissfully domestic about working together side-by-side to finish the preparations for the meal. As Ash blended, shook and poured out pitchers of pretty lavender-colored drinks, Vivienne got to work on sautéing and steaming vegetables and poaching the chicken ballotines she’d prepared in a few inches of salted water. The tightly rolled little parcels bobbed in the pan, still tied with thin strands of cooking twine to keep the spiced filling in place. The way the cords cut into the pale, tender flesh made her think of Ash’s wrists…and of the joke recipe book he’d bought her for her birthday, full of prepared poultry posed in hogties and suspensions.
She smiled to herself and glanced across at him, only to find him watching her as he pulsed the blender. The perfume of the longest-lasting of the stargazer lilies—still upright in their vase though the flowers had grown blowsy and soft—touched the air, beneath the tempting smells of the dinner that was so nearly reaching completion.
Vivienne moved on to running the ballotines through a hot pan to color them before transferring them to the oven to finish cooking while she pan-fried the scallops and slid them gently onto a warm dish to set aside until serving. A little way along the counter, Ash was bent over a row of sundae glasses, carefully spooning layers of coffee mousse, whipped cream and freshly baked chocolate genoise into each one before he topped them with a final swirl of cream and a few shards of chocolate. Vivienne smirked as she moved behind him, fetching a small bowl of strawberries from the refrigerator.
Wordlessly she set the bowl down at Ash’s elbow and watched him blink as he noticed the little red fruits…and slowly began to color, a wide grin splitting his face.
You’re never going to look at a strawberry the same way again, are you, sweetie?
She made sure to catch his eye, holding his gaze while she selected a berry from the dish, rolled it between her forefinger and thumb and—once Ash was watching her intently, holding his breath—she popped the fruit between her lips.
“Mm!” Vivienne enthused, raising her eyebrows. “Yummy. I’m going to go shower and change, sweetie. Finish up, then you can come towel me dry. We don’t have long.”
She swatted his ass lightly and smiled as she left the kitchen, listening to Ash’s frustrated whimper.
Upstairs, Vivienne stripped out of her casual clothes and turned on the shower. She pinned up her hair and stepped under the spray, humming lightly as the warm water caressed her skin. She reached for the shower gel, lathering her body and enjoying the light, delicate scent as her fingers skimmed her curves, washing away the day and giving her a precious few minutes to renew herself.
Vivienne heard the familiar sound of Ash’s tread on the stairs just as she was shutting the water off and as she pushed the shower curtain back she found him standing in the open doorway, waiting obediently with the towel in his hands.
Naked, the warmth of the water evaporating on her skin, cooling her body and turning her nipples to hard peaks, she watched him. He might have been the one wearing the clothes, but the authority, the power, belonged to her. Beneath her gaze, he ceased to be a man waiting to pass a towel to his lover. Her attention transmuted him, reforging him into a single core of energy and purpose, full up with the desire to serve her, to be good.
Vivienne took a slow breath in, enjoying the way his gaze roved her bare skin, touched every curve and every swell of her body, revisiting the small, secret parts of her—the points of her hips, the crooks of her elbows, the hollow of her throat—that he had memorized so well. She raised an eyebrow.
“Well?”
At once Ash moved forward and she stepped out into the towel’s fluffy embrace, smiling as he folded it around her.
He dried her carefully while she redid her makeup, a small frown of concentration on his brow as he focused on the task, his touch thorough yet reverential. One day, Vivienne decided as she outlined her dark eyes and stroked gloss over her lips, she would have him worship her properly…like this maybe, or perhaps with massage oil. Have him focus completely on her until she subsumed him entirely and his devotion became her pleasure.
She liked the idea, but for now she needed to go and get dressed.
Chapter Six
Ash followed her into the bedroom, still eager and attentive. Vivienne dropped the towel as she crossed the threshold, allowing him both the task of retrieving it and the pleasure of traipsing after her as, naked, she padded to her closet, ready to begin dressing for dinner.
He helped. Still in his blue-and-green sweater and chinos, he was hardly the classic image of a dutifully attendant pet but the contrast pleased her. She liked his casual clothes against her bare, smooth skin, and the way his eyes widened a little at the items of lingerie she pulled slowly from the drawers.
“Kneel for me,” she said softly, feeling the heat of his gaze on her back as she stood before the rack of clothes.
She heard him do it and smiled to herself. “Good boy.”
Vivienne slipped on her black lace panties and, bra, garter belt and stockings in hand, she turned to Ash. He was motionless, his back upright, his hands on the middles of his thighs and his lips slightly parted as he watched her. A beautiful blend of anticipation and hope suffused his face. She bent down slowly before him, allowing him one long, uninterrupted view of her body, her skin transected only by that small wisp of lace. His throat bobbed and his face turned hazy, the bloom of color burning in his cheeks.
“Hold these for me, sweetie,” she said, draping the stockings around his neck.
Vivienne wound the soft, delicate fabric around his throat, crossing the ends so that she could tug ever so lightly upon them…just enough for Ash to feel the lingerie whisper against his skin. A small stifled noise, like the breath of a whimper, eased between his lips as she straightened, turned away and began to fasten herself into her black lace bra and garter belt, taking care to slide the belt’s straps underneath her panties. Something told her that later tonight, she might want to remove them while keeping the stockings on, and a warm current of anticipation thrilled through her at the thought of Ash’s head buried between her stocking-clad thighs. She undid her hair and shook it out so that it swung down over her shoulders, enjoying both the liberation of being watched and the pretense of ignoring her boy completely.
Turning back to Ash, she raised her leg, pointing her toes and nudging with her foot at the stockings he wore draped around his neck. He hadn’t moved.
“Put them on,” Vivienne commanded, hands on her hips as she stared down at him.
“Yes, Miss.”
Ash obeyed, carefully wrinkling the first stocking up in his hands, sliding his thumbs down inside the delicate fabric and so very gently slipping it over her pointed toes. The corner of Vivienne’s lips curled as he crawled to her side, slipping the stocking up over her smooth, slender calf, his touch skimming her skin and the exhalation of his warm breath brushing her thigh. His fingers trembled a little as he fastened the stocking’s lacy top to the strap of her garter belt and she couldn’t quite resist the temptation to reach out and slide her fingers through his ruffled golden hair.
“Good,” she breathed, letting her nails strafe his scalp, a beat of pleasure warming her pussy as he shivered beneath her hand. “Now the other.”
Those touches—those subtle little kisses his knuckles left against her flesh—made her want him more. The sides of his palms grazed her thighs as he fastene
d the final clip and Vivienne knotted her fingers in his hair.
“Thank you, sweetie,” she murmured, lowering her foot to the carpet and angling her hips toward him, making it that little bit easier to bring his face level with her panties until only that slim scrap of lace separated his lips and hers.
Ash gazed up at her, his mouth slightly open, his forehead crinkled as the desire to beg for permission danced in his eyes. Vivienne smiled. It was so deliciously easy to picture him with a collar sitting snugly around his neck, his long, lean body bare but for the ropes or straps with which she chose to adorn him, making him hers to pose and play with however she desired.
The fantasy swirled in her mind, mixed up with the memories of the endless, beautiful hours they’d shared together…hours that were to be so rudely interrupted tonight. Dry, irritable anger ground at her nerves—this damn dinner party!—and she wished so fervently that it wasn’t important, that it wouldn’t matter and that she could just blow the entire thing off.
Of course, the matter of time, urgency and the need to get the hors d’oeuvres into the oven—let alone the fact that the house would soon be crawling with her workmates—meant Vivienne couldn’t dwell on her frustrations. Her stomach tightened as she realized how close her naughty plan was to becoming a reality and she rubbed her thumb through Ash’s hair as he knelt before her. Could she really do it? Go through the entire evening with him upstairs, tempting Fate with the risk of discovery?
Nervousness crawled over her skin, a fleeting chill whispering over her shoulders, but she knew she couldn’t let Ash see it. He was still looking up at her with that blend of tenderness and exultation and she wanted nothing more than to press her pussy to his lips…but that would make it too easy.
Instead she pushed him away, using the leverage of her fist in his hair, shoving him back onto his haunches. As he sprawled back against the carpet, Ash looked up at her, fascination—and perhaps even a little apprehension—sparkling in his eyes.
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