—NATHANIEL—
Taped moving boxes lay scattered around the apartment when I met Abby for dinner at her place on Wednesday night.
“Someone’s been busy,” I said. We sat at the kitchen table, enjoying grilled chicken and corn.
“Jackson has a moving van coming this weekend to pick up most of Felicia’s stuff. She had a few extra boxes.”
“Will you be lonely after she leaves?”
Her eyes danced as her fork stopped its upward path. “I don’t plan on spending a lot of time here after the wedding.”
My breath caught. I knew she wanted to live with me. Knew it was more than just a matter of convenience, but to hear her say it . . . It got me every time.
“Is she upset you won’t be here to help move this weekend?”
“No,” she said. “She knows better than to try and dictate our weekends.”
“That’s good,” I said, teasing her slightly. “I’m the only one allowed to dictate our weekends.”
“She’s so much better,” she said. “More supportive this time.”
“I’m glad. I’d hate to think she was harassing you about us.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t say she’s understanding, but she’s accepting.” She pushed her corn around her plate. “She even said the diamonds in my collar would go well with the dress.”
“Why would she say that?” I asked.
She stopped pushing the corn and looked at me. “It’s a weekend.”
“What is?”
“Their wedding day, Nathaniel,” she said, as if what she was talking about made complete sense.
“I know that. I’m just trying to decide what . . .” I started, and then it hit me. “She thought you’d wear the collar to the wedding?”
Her eyebrows crinkled. “Won’t I?”
Fucking hell. I’d done it again. Assumed she knew.
“I didn’t plan to have you wear the collar next weekend,” I said.
“You didn’t?” she asked. “Why?”
We should have had this conversation weeks ago, maybe even when we first discussed how often she would be collared.
“Do you remember why I didn’t want you to wear the collar all week in the first place?”
She nodded. “You said it put me in a certain mind frame.”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “And now that you’ve worn it for a weekend and removed it on a Sunday afternoon, would you agree with me?”
I could practically see her mind work as she thought. I imagined her replaying Sunday night—the almost slip at Jackson and Felicia’s.
“Yes,” she said.
“And do you think I’d want you in that mind frame at your best friend’s wedding? When you’re the maid of honor?”
“Oh,” she said simply.
“Conversely,” I said. “Do you think I want to be in the mind frame I’m in when you wear my collar? When my cousin is getting married and I’m the best man?”
“I should have brought this up sooner.” I shook my head. “It just never occurred to me you might think you’d wear it.”
“So it’s like a weekend off?”
“It’s a give-and-take relationship.” I stroked her knuckles with my thumb. “We make it work for us. Rearrange it as needed.”
A sly smile covered her face. “There goes my fantasy of you spanking me with a coat hanger in the closet.”
I blinked.
Twice.
“You had a fantasy of me spanking you with a coat hanger?” I asked.
She nodded, clearly enjoying her upper hand. “And going down on you at the reception.”
“You know, it’s not just kinky people who enjoy closet time at wedding receptions.”
“Or engage in a little under-the-table action?” she asked with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
“You are so, so evil.”
She slipped her hand out of mine and coolly took a sip of white wine. “So I’ve been led to believe.”
“Whatever will I do with you?”
She lifted the damn wineglass to her lips and took another sip. I couldn’t look away. “I’m sure I have no idea,” she said.
“On the contrary,” I said, watching her lips and imagining them wrapped around my cock. “I’m sure you have several.”
“Maybe.”
“Perhaps we should discuss these ideas of yours?” I nodded toward her bedroom. “In a more . . .
“Perhaps.” She slowly stood up. “But clear the table first. I hate leaving dishes in the sink overnight.”
I took both our plates and walked toward the kitchen. Before leaving the room, I looked over my shoulder. “And, Abby? Just so there’s no misunderstanding, if it were anyone else’s wedding?”
She stopped, halfway to her bedroom.
“The collar would be on,” I finished.
She met me at the airport on Friday afternoon at five thirty. I waited for her outside the jet.
“How was your day?” I asked, kissing her cheek and taking her hand.
“Long.”
Once we were seated and on our way, I turned to her. “I want to talk for a few minutes before we do anything else.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” I said. “I just wanted to set expectations before I collared you.”
“Give me an opportunity to voice any concerns?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a fast learner.”
“I try.”
I knew she did and I wanted to help her in any way possible.
“I want you to feel comfortable this weekend,” I said. “I want you to feel free to talk with Paul and Christine. I want you to feel free to talk to me.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “Look at Paul and Christine’s house as one big library or kitchen table. You are still to address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ since there’s nothing to keep from Paul or Christine. There will be additional expectations for his playroom, but we can go over those tomorrow. Okay so far?”
“Yes.”
“If I decide to make changes, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
I was glad she questioned me. I’d intentionally made the statement vague, simply to see if she’d ask for
