The Training

good and hard while you’re bound to Paul’s cross.”

Ah, hell, yes.

While he talked, his hands moved—over my shoulders, across my chest, tweaking a nipple, stroking my belly. I became a quivering mass of need, spurred along by his deep, husky voice.

“I do have one of these in my own playroom,” he said, oblivious to my desires, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. “Next time we’re in there, I’ll bind you with your back facing me.” His touch grew rougher. “Your ass completely exposed.” He grabbed the fabric at my hips and jerked it down, baring me completely. “Would you like that, Abigail?”

I gasped as the cool air hit my aching flesh. His fingers grazed my clit.

“Yes, please, Master,” I said in a half whisper, half groan.

Fingertips traced lazy circles across my bare flesh, dipping occasionally into my wetness. “You enjoyed the rabbit fur. I think it’s time to move up to suede.”

I shivered just thinking about offering my backside to his flogger.

“But for now,” he said, spreading my legs, “we have other business to attend to. Wouldn’t you say?”

He was deliberately baiting me. Between the promises of what waited for me in his playroom, his hands on my body, and the anticipation of what he was getting ready to do, I could hardly form a coherent thought.

“Whatever you wish, Master.”

He chuckled. “I’m so glad you see things my way.”

With one movement, he picked my legs up and thrust into me. My backside hit the wood behind me with a force that drove him deeper.

“Don’t hold back,” he said, and I wrapped my legs around him. “This room’s soundproof.” He pulled back, rocked into me again, and I let out a loud moan. “I think.”

Part of me wanted Paul and Christine to hear. After all, it only seemed fair. I wanted them to know what Nathaniel did to me, how I responded to him, how he commanded my every move, my every thought and, it seemed, sometimes my every breath, during our weekends.

He thrust into me again, and Paul and Christine left my thoughts completely. I concentrated only on the feel of him as he drove me closer and closer to release. He shifted my legs, angled his hips, and hit that sweet spot deep inside me.

I couldn’t hold back anything then. I yelled.

He continued his thrusts, stroking inside me again and again, until I was dizzy with pleasure. His breaths came in short gasps, and he moved a hand between our bodies.

I let out another yelp as he rubbed my clit. “Please, Master,” I begged.

His voice was tight. “Please, what?”

Oh, God, his fingers. His cock. Being vulnerable and at his mercy. “Please, Master. I can’t hold on anymore.”

He thrust again. “Come, then.”

My climax swept through me with the next pass of his hand.

“Hold on,” he said, taking my hips and pushing me against the wall, legs still wrapped around his waist. With quick, deep movements, he entered me over and over, driving himself toward his own release.

I felt another climax building and, as he spilled himself deep inside me, his movements caused me to come again.

For the next few minutes, he rested against me, breathing hard and heavy. When we’d both recovered somewhat, he gently lowered my legs to the floor. He quickly unlocked my wrists and spent several minutes rubbing my arms and shoulders.

Then, finally, his fingers reached behind my head and the blindfold fell away. I met his eyes for the first time since we’d left the hallway to enter the playroom.

It was there.

The intense longing, passion, and love I’d wondered about was there. I sucked in a breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Master.” I stood and basked in wonder at the emotion in his eyes. “So much more than okay,” I whispered.

After, he took me back to the guest room. I sat in his arms while he leaned back against the headboard. As much as I wanted to talk after our morning, I was glad he held me—I still felt more comfortable touching as we talked.

“I want you to be completely honest with me now,” he said, and I relaxed further into his embrace. “What do you think so far?”

“I have so many thoughts, so much information to process,” I said. “But first, thank you for setting this up. I was worried at first, but it’s been so helpful.”

“How so?”

“Everything,” I said, not sure how else to describe it. “Starting with Christine. She’s so confident, so sure of herself.”

I heard the worry in his voice. “Have you had doubts about yourself?”

I dropped my head, and my hair fell forward. “Not when I’m with you. It’s when I’m at work, or talking with Felicia. Even when I’m around Elaina and Todd. I used to wonder if there was something wrong with us.”

“And now?” he asked, voice thick with emotion.

“I don’t wonder anymore,” I said, wanting to reassure him. “Seeing Paul and Christine, the life they’ve built. I’m not ready for children and everything, but I see now that when I am . . . I’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” he corrected.

My heart leapt at the underlying meaning of his words, and I turned my head to kiss him. “We’ll be okay,” I repeated.

“Anything else?” he asked, stroking my hair.

“So much.” I leaned back into his embrace once more. “Christine helped me understand how important it is to give you feedback. I see now it’s not telling you what to do.”

“I’m glad someone finally got that point across.”

“I never wanted you to think I was telling you what to do.”

“There’s a world of difference between telling me what to do and telling me what you like or want more of,” he said in the firm but gentle voice I loved so much.

“I know. Christine said if it was easier, I could tell you on a weekday what I’d like to do.”

“Or you could tell me on a weekend.”

I shook my head. “I can’t imagine doing that.”

He was quiet, and I wondered if he’d change the subject altogether, but then he spoke again. “What if I gave you another safe word?”

“What?”

“We could add ‘green.’”

“What would that do?”

He took a deep breath. “If you wanted me to speed up or push you harder.”

“Really?” I asked, excited about the prospect.

“Yes. If you feel more comfortable saying ‘green’ instead of telling me directly,” he said. “But I will still ask for you to give me detailed feedback later.”

I wondered why he hadn’t given me green weeks ago when we discussed the safe words, but then decided he probably hadn’t thought I’d ever want him to push me or that I’d feel comfortable using it.

“I like it,” I said. “Let’s use it.”

“What else did you and Christine talk about?” he asked, instead of talking further about safe words.

“Listening to her talk about the twenty-four-seven relationship she had with Paul made me curious. I wonder how something like that would be.”

He stiffened behind me.

“Just for a week or so,” I hastened to add. “Not for an extended period or all the time.”

He spoke carefully. “If, at some point in the future, you still want to explore something like that, I would not