I watch her sleep. She’s naked, the sheets tangled up in her legs, the sun just peeking into her room. Her porcelain skin is bared to me, for me. All of her is just for my eyes only and I can’t help but smile at the thought.

“You’re watching me,” she sighs.

She turns her head, her eyes looking up at me. I didn’t sleep next to her last night. As much as I wanted to hold her, after I made her come for a third time after dinner, I couldn’t.

There is something wrong with me.

The intimacy of sleeping with another person is too much at this point. I need to fucking trust her. I don’t. Not yet at least.

“I have to meet with my agent, sign some papers. Suzette will be by in a few hours with the dress designer for the premiere. You’ll be okay alone with her?” I ask.

She frowns pushing up from her position on the bed. My eyes glance down to her tits and I grin. Her nipples are still pink and swollen from my mouth feasting on them last night. I couldn’t help myself, I needed to taste and suck every goddamn square inch of her small tits.

“Yes, I like Suzette,” she says.

I lift my gaze from her tits, to her eyes, searching them with my own. I wonder why I want her again. How my cock aches for her, when it should be sore from so much use.

I hum, lifting my hand, I use my finger to trace around each of her nipples. “Whitaker,” she moans.

“Are you sore?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Of course she is. Fuck, just a few days ago she was untouched. I haven’t been able to keep my hands off of her. I’ve never, not ever, needed someone as much as I need my Stassia.

She wraps her hand around my wrist as she shifts her body, widening her legs for me. She drags my hand down her body, until I’m cupping her warm pussy.

“You know that I am, but I still want you,” she practically purrs.

I grunt, my fingers gliding through her center. I want to stay home today, wrap myself around her. I want to trust her, start a real relationship with her. Not the owner/owned one we have right now. I want what my friends have, love, trust, companionship.

“Take a bath before Suzette arrives. Tonight we’re having my parents over for dinner,” I inform her.

I watch as her eyes widen, then her mouth drops open as her body freezes. “Whitaker,” she whimpers.

Shaking my head, I smirk. “Trust me, little girl, everything will be fine. I already have the cook putting together the menu. Maids are cleaning all day in preparation, and Suzette assures me that she has your wardrobe all taken care of.”

She nods, biting the corner of her lip. “Do your parents know, about how we came to be?” she asks.

My eyes meet her warry ones. “All they need to know is that we met, and I fell head-over-heels for you immediately. Tell them the truth about everything else, little one. Everything but your parents occupations.”

Stassia gulps then nods. Standing, I adjust my cock as I take a step back. “I’ll be home before they arrive. I don’t think I could stay away too long,” I wink before I turn around and walk out of her room. If I stay a second longer, I’ll fuck her again. Her pussy needs a bit more of a break before I do that.

“Margot’s dress for the premiere is gold, so you cannot do gold. Any other color is on the table for discussion,” Suzette announces to the man who is taking my measurements.

It’s as though I’m not even here, and honestly, I don’t mind it one bit. After Whitaker left, I took a quick shower and ate a little breakfast that was left for me on my small table. I’ve yet to leave my little castle, and honestly it’s been one of the most relaxing days, minus the anxiety about meeting Whitaker’s parents this evening.

“With her eyes, and that hair, along with her microscopic frame, you’re really challenging me here, Suzette,” he sighs.

Suzette only hums as she unpacks one of the four bags she brought up here earlier. There are a few more moments of silence while I wait to see what this man says.

“Green is the obvious choice, however, I’m not obvious,” he announces. Suzette snorts, but doesn’t respond. “I want the color of these sheets, ice blue. Thoughts?”

The room is bathed in silence and I glance up, wondering why nobody is talking only to discover that the designer is looking directly at me. “I love blue,” I admit keeping my voice soft.

He snorts. “Of course you do, honey.” A few minutes later he has all of my measurements written down, then sits at one of my chairs with his sketchpad.

Suzette ignores him and brings over a couple of dresses on hangers. “Whitaker will be happy, he suggested blue. Now, tonight, something sophisticated, yet casual,” she says.

Both dresses are cotton, like the one I wore to dinner the night before. One is dark purple, the other is a deep green. Neither are my favorite colors, but they both look comfortable. Reaching for the purple, I take it from her hand.

It’s a thick shouldered tank top with a scoop neck. The hem is a bit longer than the one I wore the night before, and it looks as though it will hit me right above the knee. It’s appropriate for meeting parents. However, I don’t have a bra or panties.

Leaning forward, I whisper. “Whitaker didn’t have you bring any underthings, did he?” I chance asking.

Suzette cringes, shaking her head. “He forbade it, Stassia. I’m sorry.” There’s no judgement in her eyes, no disgust, or anything like that and I wonder how she could be so unaffected. Maybe she knows everything already?

I sigh. “This is the one then.”

Honestly, I hope Whitaker keeps the temperature warm tonight, the last thing I need is for visible nipples poking through my dress, at the dinner table with his parents.

A few moments later, I’m left alone in my room. The designer is off to begin creating the gown, and Suzette waves a goodbye as she hustles out to get everything ready for this dinner.

Walking over to the window, I look down at the grassy grounds of the back part of the property. I should be the one getting everything ready for this dinner. It should be me, as Whitaker’s partner, woman, slave. Whatever I am, it should be me who does all of the domestic things, but he won’t let me.

I let out a heavy sigh, leaning my head against the side of the window. This can’t be my entire future. This can’t be the way he wants things. He has to want a woman who does more than just opens her legs for him.

Doesn’t he?