He pumped his erection with his hand, squeezing the last of his release into her open mouth. Then he slid all the way to the back of her throat and rested there a moment.
His hands caressed her face, sliding into her hair and petting her. He finally withdrew just when she was at the point of needing air. He pulled her upward and gave them both another rinse before finally turning the shower off.
He stepped out first and hastily dried off. Then he pulled her from the shower and wrapped a towel around her, gently drying every inch of her skin. He toweled the moisture from her hair and then pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked in a husky voice.
She nodded, sagging into his arms.
“Good. It’s just the tip of the iceberg of what’s to come.”
SIXTEEN
CHESSY dressed with extreme care, paying heed to the strict instructions Tate had given her. Several boxes had been delivered by courier earlier in the day and then Tate had called her from work and told her to be ready and waiting when he arrived home.
She pulled on the thigh-high stockings, luxuriating in the feel of the silk against her skin. Then she carefully unzipped the garment bag of a high-end, well-known designer and pulled out the strapless, beaded aquamarine sheath that shimmered and caught the light.
She eyed the dress dubiously because it looked small. And short. Like it would barely cover her ass. And Tate had been very explicit in his instructions not to wear underwear of any kind. The only things he wanted her to wear were the dress, the stockings, the shoes and the jewelry that had been delivered by the same courier service.
The collar, which she had not seen yet, would be placed somewhat ceremoniously around her neck by Tate right before they left for The House.
When she got to the shoes, her breath caught as she turned them experimentally in her hands, inspecting each angle of the beautiful stiletto heels. Between the dress, the jewelry and the shoes she felt like Cinderella going to an erotic ball. Somehow she didn’t imagine Prince Charming in the fairy tale tying Cinderella up and f**king her in the middle of the ballroom.
The thought made her laugh out loud and she shook her head at her silliness.
She slipped into the dress, wiggling in order to shimmy into it and pull it up over her full br**sts. Thank goodness for the small panel of elastic that formed a V between her shoulder blades because the dress fit her like a glove, and stretching slightly made her br**sts plump up and outward.
She eyed herself skeptically in the mirror as she began the task of taming her unruly hair since Tate wanted it down. But the more she stared at the woman looking back at her, the more satisfied she became with her appearance. She looked … beautiful. Sexy even. Would Tate find her so?
He had impeccable tastes as evidenced by the selections he’d chosen for her to wear tonight. The dress fit perfectly and if she had to guess, what she considered to be tight in the bust was actually the intentional fit of the dress, fashioned to enhance a woman’s cle**age. And the jewelry was to die for. She didn’t even want to know what it cost.
After arranging her hair to her satisfaction she traipsed back into the bedroom to put on the heels that she’d left on the ottoman in front of the comfy armchair Tate referred to as her reading nest.
She only had five minutes until Tate was scheduled to be home and he’d requested she be in the living room waiting for him so he could put the collar around her neck. She winced inwardly. She found the meaning behind a collar to be beautiful and symbolic of their relationship but she much preferred the term choker, or even simply the mark of his possession. Collars were for pets but she supposed that some Dominants considered their submissives to be pets in the fondest of manners. She’d even heard a man at The House in the past call his submissive “my pet” and it was obvious from his tone that it was an affectionate term of endearment. Not derisive or degrading in the least. But for her personally, it didn’t work. She much preferred Tate’s “my girl” when referring to her, which was probably juvenile at best but there was no accounting for tastes. It was what it was.
She settled on the edge of the couch to wait for Tate and within a few minutes the front door opened and he entered the living room, stopping when he got his first glimpse of her.
“Stand up,” he said huskily.
She complied, standing to her new, more impressive height thanks to the heels.
He didn’t say anything for the longest time. He simply drank in her appearance. The silence went on for so long that she began to wonder if she’d messed up or if perhaps she didn’t look as good as she thought.
Then he crossed the room and tipped up her chin, which was now a lot closer to his with her added height, and he slanted his mouth over hers. He kissed her hungrily, as if he were starving for her. All doubt fled when she felt the solid evidence of his arousal through his slacks.
When he pulled away, his eyes were blazing with lust. “You look magnificent,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “But you picked everything out so I’d say your taste is pretty darn impressive.”
“Baby, that dress would not make every woman look as sensational as you. It’s you. Not the dress. One hundred percent you.”
She smiled her pleasure at his sincere compliment. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet drawstring bag with the name of a prominent jeweler monogrammed on the front.
“Sit down,” he said, a quiet command.
She sank onto the couch and he pulled out an intricately designed leather choker with aquamarine stones that matched her dress to perfection. She was awed by the obvious amount of time he’d devoted to pulling together her outfit for the evening. And even more impressed with the brief amount of time he’d had to work with in order to have it all ready on such short notice.
Then he turned it over to the side that would lie against her throat and burned into the leather were the words “My Girl.”
Damn it, she would not cry. She’d shed far too many tears both in sadness and joy lately. She would not ruin the evening before it ever truly began.
“It’s beautiful, Tate,” she whispered.
“You truly like it?”
She was surprised at the vulnerability in his tone. She wouldn’t have ever imagined him worrying over her liking a gift from him. Anything he gave her was very precious to her. But the best gift of all was simply himself.