Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(4)

“You’re overthinking this,” Jon said, pouring Matt a drink and sitting back.

“So says the man who doesn’t feel or look like an idiot standing on his head and saying ‘ohm.’”

“Because it reflects who I am.” Jon gestured at him with his glass. “And therein lies my point. You don’t need to doubt yourself on this, Matt. It keys into the type of Master you’ve always been.” He tapped his temple. “Up here. When you tune in to what she needs, you’ll just open that door inside yourself, and it will be there.”

“So your advice is not to prep at all?”

“Not for that end of it. Get the staff on board with all the trappings, give them some leeway so you have the spontaneity angles, the unexpected variables that you relish when we’re tackling a new project. Beyond that, don’t even think about it until the time comes. And when it does, think about her, how you feel about her, deep down. It’s in you, Matt. The fantasy wouldn’t have persisted so strongly for her if she didn’t see elements of it in you every day. It was all there, out front, the night you made her yours. It all comes back to that.”

A smile touched Jon’s lips. “If you’re going to meditate on anything, meditate on that. No ‘ohms’ required.”



He had thought about it. As dramatic as it might sound, he had claimed her like a conqueror.

He’d do it here.

Giving himself another minute to figure out what to do about the naked women at his feet, Matt swept his gaze over the interior of the large tent, with its dark red curtained walls. Shields and swords were propped against a wooden frame, armor threaded onto the arms of it. A big table held a weathered map, pieces placed upon it the way they would be for a conqueror contemplating his army’s strategy.

Yet there were things in the tent that a battle commander wouldn’t have—unless he was ensuring the comfort of his lady and maximizing the best ways to enjoy her. The large, luxurious bed, draped in gold velvet and piled with pillows, was a nod to that.

Bidding the women to remain kneeling with a short gesture, Matt moved to the entrance of the pavilion tent. Two of his “soldiers,” muscular men clad in leather and armor, stood silently at either side of the entrance. They didn’t address him, but straightened their already military perfect stance.

He was looking out at the incomparably romantic view of the Caribbean, only thirty feet away at high tide. Moonlight formed a lightning track straight down to the shoreline, but it felt like it stopped in the center of his heart.

God, he loved her so. Maybe that was the hardest part of “role play” to him—having to act for even a minute like she wasn’t his reason for breathing.

And yet…would a conquering warlord be nervous about the queen being brought to his bed? A queen whose castle he’d just conquered, whose father had been willing to sell her to save that castle. His fortification of stone was worth more to him than his daughter’s virtue…or her heart.

“The best fantasy lies upon a foundation of truth.” Jon had also said that, and he was right. Truth was the key to getting into this. Matt turned and went back into the tent, to the women. “Prepare my bath,” he ordered them.

As they rose, he had to give credit where credit was due. Their training made every movement a sexual invitation. Hellfire.

Perhaps Savannah had known his innate pragmatism would come back to hinder him at the final pressure point. His wife loved him enough to help him get into character, in a way he was pretty damn sure no other wife would. Savannah trusted him.

He was going to spank her irresistible bottom for teasing him like this. His lips quirked. He trusted her, too, but if a pair of straight, handsome men were preparing her the way these two women were offering to do for him, there’d be two dead males on this island.

Hypocritical or not, there it was. But he wasn’t worried about that. There’d been a lot of hard-limit, soft-limit stuff he’d had to submit to The Resort staff about this fantasy, prior to arriving. Allowing another man to touch his wife sexually was in the titanium steel category of hard-limit.

Unless it was one of his four-man executive team, and they were different. Lucas, Peter, Jon and Ben were his brothers, not by blood, but by everything that mattered. When a woman was chosen by one of them to be his forever, she was also all of theirs, in certain ways.

As Savannah had realized that fateful night, when all four of them had helped Matt achieve his goal to claim her.

The women had tied back the tent flaps near a clawfoot tub. Other slaves arrived and started pouring hot water into it for his bath. The redhead brought him ale as he settled onto a couch to watch the preparations. He stretched a long arm along the back, his legs in a casual sprawl before him. Tipping his head back, he let himself get lost in the memory of Savannah’s voice as she’d first told him her fantasy. The sensual tags and softening purr, as the vision aroused her.

He could have involved the others in this fantasy. Lucas and Cass were here, as well as Dana and Peter. Jon and Rachel had been invited, but Jon had felt Rachel wasn’t quite ready emotionally for this much immersion. While a bone-deep submissive, Rachel had been badly damaged by her first husband, so Jon was taking slow steps with her, making sure her decisions as a submissive were based on the right feelings.

Ben had decided to tag along, but hadn’t imposed on the pleasures of the three couples, instead availing himself of as many submissives as could handle him. Which, knowing the lawyer’s appetites, meant The Resort had probably had to import a few more.