Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(17)

Her gaze lifted to him, held. He saw his answer there.

Both.

Though he’d demand she say it out loud eventually, he put the collar on her now. As he fastened it, his fingers on her nape, he remembered the way she’d looked at him on the plane when he put it on her for the first time. The depth of feeling in her eyes, the press of her soft lips, the way her hands had gripped his sides, fingers curling into his dress shirt. He had closed his hands on her upper arms to kiss her, and felt her quivering. Damn if he hadn’t felt some of the same happening, low in his gut. A lot like the way he’d felt when they’d stood on the back deck of his Texas house and she’d said I do, I will.

He saw those same qualities in her expression now and hoped he would always do the things that would earn him the gift of that look. He ran more slender chains from the collar to the nipple jewelry in front, and one chain down the center of her back to hook to the plug. Tight enough to be a teasing pressure. When she moved, she’d be reminded of the many ways he had her decorated, all to sensually torment and arouse her once again.

He was already on the road to success on that, because her gaze had become unfocused while he adorned her, and her breath was shallow when he finished and turned her around for his viewing.

But he wanted her to see herself. There was a mirror on the far side of the tent. He unhooked her cuffs from the post and took her over there, her bare soles cushioned by carpets. As he brought her before the mirror, he stood behind her, caressing her hip. Enjoying watching her desire-suffused face as he touched her, he fondled her breasts, fingers tugging on the nipple jewelry. Her head fell back on his upper chest and shoulder, her ass pressing against his groin.

Even through the laced pants, he could feel her well enough, and had to bite back a groan of his own as she rubbed against the crisscross of the laces. He spread his hand out on her abdomen, fingers hooking the chains to toy with the clit pin as he reached back and worked the plug, sliding it in and out, a gentle thrust that had her moving with him, hips and torso undulating in a way that met every fantasy he had.

Her body was his instrument to play, and the songs were endless. He never tired of it, never tired of wanting her. Her hair slid against his chest as she tossed her head restlessly.

“Now say it aloud and become my queen,” he whispered huskily. “Because when you do, you’re right; I become your slave.”

Her eyes sparked with heated emotion, and her lips parted. “Master,” she said.



It didn’t matter anymore. The settings, the role play, all of it disappeared. Savannah reached toward his face, fingertips sliding along his jaw, and Matt dipped his head to kiss her wrist, above the diamond-chip covered cuffs.

“My love,” he said, the miracle of it filling him as he gripped her body, scooped her up and moved them to the bed. He sat down with her straddling him, his arms banded around her. He saw the tightening of her lips, further sparks in her gaze as the position increased the stimulation of her jewelry. He brought her close enough to brush her adorned nipples against his upper chest, increasing that friction. He slid his hands under her buttocks, pressing on the plug. When she emitted a little moan, his cock strained against the laced pants.

“My captive queen, my wife, my sub…my heart.”

She framed his face with her hands, her eyes burning. “My lord,” she whispered, the ghost of a smile on her face resurrecting an even earlier memory.

“You call me Matthew just to irritate me.”

“Would you prefer Mr. Kensington? Or perhaps Lord Kensington?”

“If you like. But I think I prefer Master, or my lord, if you’re using it.”

She spoke again, bringing them back to the present. “My husband, my Master, my truest friend. My savior.”

He shook his head, but she nodded, her fingers tightening on him to match the fierceness of her eyes. They showed a wealth of emotions from past and present that reinforced it.

Suddenly, he decided he didn’t want anything on her body but himself and his collar. Shifting her off him so she stood between his knees, he removed all of it. Her tiny moans and the aroused movements of her body absorbed him as he slid the plug free, took the clit jewelry off her damp flesh, and finally removed the nipple wires. Leaning forward, he used his mouth to suckle and soothe the tender flesh. As he did, he banded his arms around her hips. Her hair fell against his shoulders as she dropped her head on top of his, her lips pressed to his crown. Her hips were against his torso, the pressure conveying an unspoken imperative need he would be more than willing to meet.

He tightened his grip on her hips and lifted her off her feet, turning her to lay her down on the bed, freeing one arm so that he could cup the back of her head, ease the descent. She shifted so her head was on the nest of pillows. Gazing at him with love, laughter and desire in her eyes, Savannah stretched her arms above her, her delectable body laid before him in nothing but his collar.

“I may have surrendered to you, my lord,” she said. “But there will be further negotiations on the terms.”

He grinned, a baring of teeth. “Aren’t there always?” But as he slid his knuckles up her leg, his feelings took a more serious turn. Whatever miracle it was that brought a Master and sub together, opened them up so they had a soul-deep understanding of one another, he was thankful for it.

“Spread your legs,” he said softly, an undeniable command.