In Flight (Up in the Air #1)(74)

I glared at him, and he saw my expression.

“Please, just consider it. You don’t have to decide right now. We have other things to talk about, at the moment.”

I lost my train of thought as he removed my jacket and vest, hanging them. His fingers lingered on the button at my throat. He undid my top four buttons, spreading my shirt open to reveal the necklace he had placed around my neck.

It was lovely, made of some kind of silver metal into what looked like one solid band, but was in fact soft and moveable, just a very seamless looking, tightly linked necklace. It sat right at the very top of my collarbone, at the base of my throat. He was right. It had been hidden just perfectly under my uniform. At the center of the thick choker sat a large diamond studded hoop. I fingered it, and he reached around me to hook his index finger into the loop, tugging lightly.

“It’s lovely,” I told him, but I was troubled. What was it’s significance to him?

“I had it made as a sort of workable version of a slave collar.”

I froze at the word, instantly wanting to take off anything with such a name. He gripped my hands tightly, holding them down at my sides firmly, as though sensing my intent.

“Just hear me out. We already have a dominant-submissive relationship. It comes naturally to us. It is just who we are. But that can mean whatever we want it to mean. Do you understand? I want to find the best balance for us both.”

I was already shaking my head at him. “That only comes natural to us in bed. I don’t want this going anywhere else. You don’t get to boss me around in any other part of my life. And I’m no slave.”

He inclined his head, although he looked displeased.

“I’m not trying to boss you around anywhere else. I’m trying to have a relationship with you, something I’ve never done before, and I’ll take what I can get. I want you to see that I will work with you. I will make…concessions for you, if there’s something that you can’t accept. I simply want you to give me all that you can. And not to run, if you get overwhelmed. And it’s called a slave collar only because it denotes ownership. It is a symbol of your commitment to me, to give your body only to me and no one else. To submit your body only to me. There is a lock and a key that only I will be the owner of, but I won’t lock you in until you agree. I want you to tell me when you’re ready for that. Until then, you can wear it unlocked.”

I stared at him for long minutes, my mind having a hard time processing what he was saying, when I was conflicted about so much of what he’d revealed.

He wanted a relationship? What the hell did he mean by that? I shook myself, trying to focus on the issue at hand.

“What if I’m never ready to be locked in?”

He gave me an almost sinister smile. “I will endeavor to convince you.”

He began to unbutton the rest of my shirt. I didn’t stop him, just stared at my collar, my mind racing.

He stripped me with quick sure motions until I was only in stockings and garters. He watched me for a long time in the mirror, wearing just that, but eventually stripped those off too. He tugged off my watch and even my small stud earrings. My first instinct when standing completely nude in front of him was to cover myself with my hands, but I stifled the urge with effort. I knew it wouldn’t please him, and my overpowering urge to please him had only grown during our short, tempestuous acquaintance…

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a tiny scrap of see-through black cloth. He wrapped it around my hips, fastening it with a tiny silver chain. It fit perfectly, sitting right below my waist, as though I’d been measured for it. It seemed to show as much as it concealed, every curve clearly visible beneath it, but James seemed very pleased with the results, his eyes positively glowing as he stared at me.

I assumed by it’s ready location in the drawer that it was some sort of submissive uniform for him. God only knew how many women he had dressed in just this way. I tried my best not to think about that.

He pulled something out of his pocket. It just looked like a lovely silver chain at first, but I saw the little clamps as he straightened the chain into a smooth line. He used a tiny clip on the chain to fasten it to the hoop in my collar.

I gasped.

He wrapped it through the hoop several times until there was just enough of the chain left to reach my ni**les with the clamps. He fastened them, his eyes hooded, while my breath grew rough in agitation. It looked like a sort of obscene halter top of metal. With a slave collar…

He smoothed my errant hairs into the chignon at my nape. He couldn’t seem to stop touching me. He stroked my shoulders and my waist and hips, but his fingers always found their way back to my br**sts. He was tweaking the clamps until I could hardly stand the wait.

“If you enjoy the clamps, you should be well suited to the piercings. The clamps actually apply more pressure than the piercings, after the initial pain.” He continued to play with my tortured ni**les, tugging until I moaned.

He pulled me by the hoop at my neck through his room and to the elevator. I could feel every step and pull in my achy br**sts. I trailed after him, barefoot and nearly naked, him fully clothed in one of his mouth-watering suits. I looked back at his bed longingly.

“I want you to take me on your bed,” I told him, a strange note of a plea in my voice. It just looked so perfect, and I was suddenly so needy.

“I will, Love. But, first things first, ” he said, pulling me into the elevator the second it opened.