Vivienne doesn’t mix business and pleasure, and she likes things done her way. When she’s asked to host a dinner party for her colleagues on the same night as she’d planned a play date with her sub, Ash, Vivienne is one irritable Domme. But she soon comes up with a plan that means she can have her cake and eat it too…
Constrained by secrecy and distance, Vivienne and Ash’s relationship has many rules. At the point where sensual femdom meets explosive passion, Vivienne must reconcile her hunger for Ash’s submission with a little level-headedness. After all, BDSM in the bedroom is one thing, but is keeping her lover tied up while she plays hostess downstairs pushing their shared kinks too far?
As Vivienne tests her submissive’s control against the fear of discovery, she soon learns just how hard they will both find it waiting for dessert.
A Taboo® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
An Excerpt From: WAITING FOR DESSERT
Copyright © CHASTITY VICKS, 2013
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
As she looked at him across the polished pine table and watched the lamplight shade his lean, slightly uneven features, Vivienne was forced to admit just how possessively she wanted to guard him.
Ash grunted with pleasure at the first mouthful of cheesecake, though his expression as he looked at her—spoon still between his lips, his cheeks slightly pink from the wine—grew boyish with tentative excitement.
“Really?” he asked, digging his spoon back into the dessert. “You’d want me to come help?”
Vivienne picked up a strawberry between her finger and thumb, genuinely surprised by his enthusiasm. “Well—”
“Because I’m more than happy to,” he assured her, a glimmer of enthusiasm building in his eyes as he added, “Miss.”
Vivienne tried to ignore the pulse of pleasure that word ignited within her.
“Hm,” she said nonchalantly, rolling the strawberry gently in her grasp.
“I-I’d like to,” he admitted. “Really.”
She moved the soft, shiny fruit slowly and watched Ash’s gaze follow it.
She had never told any of her colleagues she was in a relationship, much less explained the nature of it. Did she really want to start exploring that potential minefield now? Could she? Part of her—the part that took pride in Ash because he was hers and because he was beautiful—was just a little tempted despite her misgivings. Sometimes, after all, she wondered if she so jealously hid him away out of her own uncertainty.
Would it really be so bad to show him off just once? Would it really be that difficult?
Vivienne put the strawberry to her closed lips, tracing the fruit around her mouth as she stared at him, watching the way his throat bobbed and his fingers tightened on his spoon.
She could do it, she supposed. Have him here, let him meet them all and let him help her prepare. Let him be her official “significant other” for the evening…or something. A fleeting and yet thoroughly beautiful vision of her boy in service moved through her mind. Some suitably pretty outfit—maybe that pair of mesh compression shorts that framed his ass so nicely—with a bare chest and bowtie, a plate of canapés balanced in his hands as he moved silently through a room full of guests. They would all look, all admire, but no one would be permitted to touch him.
No one but her.
Vivienne’s breath deepened as she pictured the scene and traced the berry down from the fullness of her lower lip to the point of her chin. Its shiny red skin felt so cool against the warmth of her face. She pictured herself sitting in her living room, surrounded by guests as Ash knelt naked at her side.
They spent evenings in front of the TV that way sometimes. After a post-scene shower, both wrapped in snuggly bathrobes, she’d curl up on the couch and he would sit by her feet. She could play idly with his hair and feel the weight of his head as he rested his cheek against her thigh. He was so happy like that. So content…and so was she.
All he wanted, she knew, was to please her, because pleasing her—fulfilling that role, finding that soul-deep solace in being the sub she desired—gave him everything he could need. He was hers, and though she could do with him what she pleased, it also behooved her to give him what he needed.
Vivienne stroked the small, firm strawberry along the underside of her chin, moving the fruit in a slow, purposeful tease down the line of her neck. Slowly, so very slowly, she traced the curve of her throat, watching Ash’s gaze stay latched to her every movement.
Can you taste it yet, pet? Taste my skin, my scent…taste the sweet fruit as you suck it between your lips?
Fuck, but she wanted him. Wanted everything.
Of course, Vivienne thought, correcting the way her mind had wandered, he wasn’t perfect. He could be demanding, prone to second-guessing her and—as was her responsibility to him—she had to check those tendencies.
Tonight was a perfect example. His willingness to help her, sweet though she considered it to be…was that because he had assumed she meant she would publicize their relationship at the dinner party? Did he want that?
He knew she needed to be discreet, but was his desire for validation so great that he wanted that badly to be recognized as her partner? An irrational jump of anger surged in her at the thought. That was not his place. He did not get to dictate these things to her. Who the fuck did he think he was?
Vivienne’s lips twitched and she trailed the strawberry farther down between the twin hollows of her collarbones, onto the slender plane of her chest, shadowed by the thick cotton shawl of her robe. The little berry was warming up, but it was still cool enough to raise a light shiver against her skin. Ash still had his spoon poised halfway to his mouth, the last morsel of cheesecake perched perilously on it as he stared in rapt fascination.
Abruptly Vivienne snatched the strawberry from between her breasts and popped it into her mouth, crushing its sweetness against her tongue. Ash made a small, soft noise in the back of his throat and blinked rapidly, which made her smile.
“Finish eating,” she said, glancing down at the five berries she had left in her dish.
He obeyed, though he glanced up at her curiously as she rose from the table, leaving her crockery where it was and moving with crisp grace across the kitchen to the cupboard in which she stored her clean dishcloths. The little glimmering worm of an idea had lit itself in Vivienne’s mind and, with the warmth of arousal unspooling like sunshine in her stomach, she lacked the patience to go all the way upstairs to her toy box.
Besides, the best damn thing about pervertibles was the unexpectedness.
She grabbed a short stack of the cotton cloths—all in various cheerful, kitchen-themed patterns—and took them back to the table, where Ash had finished his cheesecake and was sitting neatly with his hands placed palms flat on the pitted, well-varnished pine. She recognized that tiny, introspective smile playing at the corner of his lips. It was equal parts anticipation and apprehensive excitement, coupled with a happy kind of security. He ached for her to take charge, already teetering at the edge of the precipice from the moment he arrived, just waiting to yield up control.
“Sit up straight,” Vivienne said. She never needed to raise her voice, never needed to bark orders at him. If she had, he wouldn’t have been worth commanding. “Push your chair back five inches, then put your hands behind it.”
Ash did as he was told, his gaze fixed on the far wall where there hung an Edward Hopper print of a small cottage and lighthouse in Maine, its soft, painterly style soothing against the warm cream paintwork. The chair feet scraped loudly against the dark slate tiles. He extended his arms, reaching around the carved stiles and spindles of the chair’s straight back, pressing his spine close to the wood and crossing his wrists, palms out and fingers relaxed, half-curled.
His breathing was slow, his posture perfectly erect and the color shading his cheekbones had begun to darken. Vivienne smiled and selected a dishcloth patterned with pink-and-yellow cartoon cupcakes. With swift efficiency, she bent down and looped the cloth around his wrists. There wasn’t enough fabric for a proper binding, but it wouldn’t be for long and she trusted Ash not to struggle.
She bit her lip as she cinched the dishcloth tight—just tight enough for him to feel the knot but no tighter—and complemented her handiwork with another two ties at his elbows. One cloth had red apples printed on it, the other a selection of oranges, lemons, limes and grapefruits. Vivienne smiled to herself as she surveyed the bindings and their absurd, comical cheerfulness, especially against Ash’s plain gray sweater and jeans. It was silly, but she still liked the way the position threw his shoulders forward, stretching the fabric of his sweater slightly and making his lean frame seem broader.
Satisfied, Vivienne leaned down to whisper in his ear, knowing from the way his nostrils widened slightly that he could smell her perfume—gardenia, like she wore every time she was with him because she wanted him to be able to pick her out of a pitch-dark room by scent alone.
“Your feet will stay flat on the floor,” she whispered. “You will not move. You will not struggle.”
Ash’s throat bobbed before he answered, his chest moving subtly as he took a deep breath in, shoulders tensing a little as he felt the binds at his elbows and wrists.
“I will not struggle, Miss. I want this.”
The words fanned a blaze of desire within Vivienne, all heat and need centered at her core. Wetness slicked her lips, the awareness of her arousal only heightening her anticipation.
She kept her gaze on Ash as she moved back to her place at the table, hooking one pink-tipped finger over the edge of her dish and dragging it, with the greatest possible noise, the length of the table. Her spoon clanked against the china as it juddered across the well-used surface and she smiled as she watched Ash’s confusion unfold.
He had no idea what she intended, and yet he consented anyway. He put himself in her hands so freely, so eagerly and she loved that. His trust was a beautiful, vulnerable thing and, as he sat there in his street clothes, watching her in her white robe and vinyl undies, his face was so open.
Vivienne set the bowl down in front of him and with her other hand untied the belt of her robe. She kicked off her leather slippers and, in a carefully controlled movement, raised her leg and planted one bare foot in his lap. Her robe fell back around the slender curves of her waist and hips and Ash’s eyes widened reflexively. She smiled, enjoying his attention and enjoying the warmth and solidity of the bulge beneath her toes. She rotated her ankle in a small, firm circle, pressing her bare foot against the denim and feeling him respond beneath it.
“I’m never sure whether you eat well when you’re not here,” she said airily, leaning forward to select a strawberry from the small handful she had left in her dish. “I think I need to make sure you do.”
“Yes, Miss,” he breathed, those lovely hazel eyes widening even further so it looked as though he was trying to drink in every moment for fear of losing it forever.
ISBN: 9781419947889 | Length: Novella
Published by: Ellora’s Cave Inc. (‘Taboo’ imprint), and available from all good ebook retailers.