Breakfast arrived. That had to be one of the best perks of being the owner, you never had to wait for a thing. I took the large tray myself and carried it back into the bedroom. No pimply teenage delivery boy got to check out Kara. She was mine, all mine.
“Ooh!” She sat up a bit, the down comforter still up and keeping her maddeningly modest, covering far too much. I’d have to do something about that. She surveyed her options: waffles, eggs, bacon, sausages, scones and fresh fruit. I set it all down on a low table by the window.
“That looks amazing.”
“What do you want?”
“All of it.”
“Atta girl.” I took a plate and fixed her a sampler.
She took it from me, hesitantly. “Are you sure I should eat on the bed? What if I stain the comforter?” She gestured at the expanse of pure, snow-white fluff.
I shrugged. “Not a problem. I don’t clean it.”
She took that in, clearly not accustomed to a life in which others cleaned things for you. I’d gotten used to that pretty quick. I made myself a plate and sat on the side of the bed as we ate. She obviously liked bacon. I smiled at her and she giggled a bit, acknowledging how she was relishing her food.
“I always say, never trust a person who doesn’t like bacon.” She shrugged.
“So true,” I agreed.
Finally placing her plate to the side after doing some excellent work, she took her coffee mug into her hands and settled back onto the pillows. She looked comfortable. Too comfortable.
“We have some things to discuss,” I told her.
She tensed, instantly looking nervous.
“The terms of our agreement.” Wide-eyed, she waited. “We fly to New York tomorrow. There’s a gala at the Met I’ll take you to Saturday night. Then Sunday, we’ll fly home and I’ll pay off all of your debts.”
Leaning forward, I looked into her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean when I say you’ll serve me for the week?”
She shivered slightly, nibbling on her lower lip. I should have done more of this last night. It wasn’t like me to overlook the fine points of a contract. She got me too fired up and I didn’t like that. I’d regain control, starting now.
“This week, I give the orders,” I explained. “You follow them. No questions asked. You’ll serve me in every way.”
She sat up straighter in the bed. That comforter still over-performed.
“You’re going to be my sub, Kara. Do you understand what that means? I’ll be your master, controlling you, teaching you. That means you’ll need to trust me completely.”
“Declan, I…” she hesitated.
“That means no more secrets. You should have told me you were a virgin.”
“I’m sorry,” she began, looking down and starting to nibble nervously on her thumb. “I should have but—”
“It’s all right,” I waved off her apologies. What mattered was the future. “This week you need to open up completely to me. You’ll need my guidance. You have to reveal everything to me. That’s how this works.”
“I don’t know if…” She hesitated, biting her plump lip, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “I’m not sure that I can… do everything you ask.”
“Why not?” I remained level and cool, letting her speak.
“Because…” She tilted her hands and eyes upwards. “I don’t even know what sort of stuff you’re into. Are you going to make me sign a contract or something?”
I smiled. “Has someone been reading 50 Shades of Gray?”
She blushed, embarrassed. “Maybe.”
Giving her a dead serious look, I asked, “Would you like to see my Room of Pain?” She froze. I couldn’t help but slip into a grin.
“You’re joking, right?” She smiled but still sounded hesitant.
“Yes, I’m joking. I mean, I have an Iron Maiden in the closet, but that’s only if you’re bad.” I couldn’t let this go yet. She was too fun to tease.
“What’s an Iron Maiden?”
“Forget about it. Kara, I’m not into inflicting pain.”
She looked at me, dubious. I was the one who tortured her nipples and gave her a stern spanking last night, after all. My cock stirred at the memory.
“Not much pain,” I modified my response, giving her a wicked smile.
“I just want to know what you’re into.” She sounded nervous, but also curious and maybe a little eager. I liked that.
“Let me show you.” I brought a hand to her arm and began to stroke her forearm, caressing the sensitive, smooth skin on the inside.
“But what—?”
“I know what I like. I have a good idea what you’ll like.”
“But I just—?”
“You don’t get to ask,” I instructed her. “I’m in control.”
She looked at me, eyes wider, lips parted.
“If at any point you want to stop,” I continued. “You can. Contract null and
void.”
“On both sides,” she added. Thinking about the money.
I nodded. I fought the urge to tell her that of course I’d pay off everything anyway. I’d do that for her right now, even if she picked up and walked right out the door. The money wasn’t an issue. But I wanted the week and I knew she wouldn’t give it to me without the right incentive. She’d fly away like a frightened bird. She needed a reason to accept this. Her family’s ranch, that seemed like a good one. Even though deep down I knew she’d said yes because she wanted it. She couldn’t admit it to herself yet, though. I’d make sure she screamed it before the week was out.
Nervous, she picked up a strawberry and began to nibble it absentmindedly. A ripe, full one. She toyed with it in her mouth. I watched, transfixed, her lips, her tongue, her teeth. I leaned closer and she froze, realizing what she was doing and the reaction it was provoking. Our eyes met and I could see it, the switch flip on in her as well. So hot, so quick between us. Always there, a live current of electricity.
She paused. Then, instead of putting the strawberry down, she made it more deliberate. Slowly, she brought her tongue out to flick the tip of the strawberry, taste it, then lick it. Eyes on me, she drew the strawberry into her mouth, sucking on it as she slowly pulled it out. I watched as her perfect lips formed an O around that ripe, round berry, saw her pout and lick, slow and deliberate.
I could think of nothing but her doing that to my cock. It sprang to urgent attention, pressing against the cotton of my sweatpants. The elastic waist hung low on this pair and I saw her eyes flick over to it, saw the fingers on her free hand knead the comforter. I could almost feel her reach over, pull my waistband down, and bring her lush, wet mouth down over my hard, straining shaft.
“Push the covers down,” I ordered. “Let me see your tits.” Her eyes widened just how I liked. I could read surprise in them mixed with a flood of desire.
Slowly, infuriatingly slowly, she put the strawberry down on the plate and then sat back on the bed, taller and straighter now. The creamy blanket still covered most of her breasts. Nervous, she brought both hands to the bedding and paused for a moment. Then she pushed it down around her waist, removing her protection. Bared to the morning light, her breasts were two perfect mounds, almost too large for her frame yet all the more sexy because of it. Girls paid for breasts like hers, but there was nothing like the real thing. There was nothing like Kara.