It was hard to sleep in Anthony’s bed. Every twist, every turn, every fluff of the pillows tortured my dreams with memories of him.

But what a night’s sleep—well deserved after such a rough spanking and consuming orgasm.

Plus, Anthony’s bed had everything—perfectly functional springs, soft sheets, and enough room to not kick a wall or freeze my toes if I happened to shrug off the covers. It was the best night’s sleep I’d had in years.

Though sleeping with Anthony would have made it better—literally and figuratively.

He’d bundled my clothes on the dresser—my panties and bra bleach white in a completely masculine room. He had a minimalist style. Bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Dressers. Chair. My underwear, on display for the world to see as proof of the naked girl in his bed.

I slipped from the covers, worried I’d flash the entire city with my walk of shame to the bathroom. Fortunately, Anthony had prepared for these contingencies. A folded towel, new plastic wrapped toothbrush, and a fresh hairbrush waited beside my clothes.

So…what was the etiquette for something like this? I’d never stayed at a man’s home before. Would he mind me showering? Using his soap?

One glance inside the master bathroom, and I knew I couldn’t refuse this opportunity. His bathroom was nearly as large as my studio apartment. Two sinks framed the walls. A Jacuzzi tub tempted me, separate from a tiled, walk-in shower.

He’d installed heated floors.

The dark granite and gold accents screamed Anthony, but the hair dryer, curling iron, and straightener belonged to a woman.

Apparently, Simone was no stranger to this penthouse.

Anthony’s shower qualified as one of the seven wonders of my world—right up there with the time I touched a Stradivarius violin and the night we’d served coffee to the entire cast of Phantom of the Opera. Variable temperature settings and multiple jets and moveable shower heads made for an interesting experience, though the pulsing massage setting only reminded me of the fun at Simone’s pool party.

Figured. The shower was big enough for two—certainly large enough for Anthony to do anything he wished to me under the water. The relaxing shower turned frustrating. I hopped out before the soap bubbles did me in. No sense getting hot and bothered if Anthony was set on giving me only a cold shoulder.

Why else wouldn’t he have come to bed?

How badly did I screw everything up?

Without my parade of conditioners and shampoos I opted to only rinse off. Fortunately, Simone had left a decent supply of scrunchies. I wrapped my hair into two pigtail buns, yelping as her brush bit through a knot in my hair. She’d probably love my squeal.

Dried, dressed, and mortified, I braved an escape into the rest of the penthouse. Not that I had a choice. My shift at the café started at noon, and I couldn’t miss it.

Sunlight streamed through the penthouse, but Anthony waited for me outside on his balcony, overlooking a city kissed pink by the sunrise. Breakfast was served on a picturesque dining table, decorated in the same muted greys and blacks as his interior furniture.

His laptop and papers spread on the table between covered catering dishes. He gestured for me to take a seat as he ended his phone call. I squirmed into the cushioned chair and avoided his gaze by surveying the amazing view afforded by his luxurious home.

“Breakfast, pet?” Anthony poured me a cup of coffee—mocha with a dash of caramel, just how I’d ordered on our first date. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Hungry. Confused. I’d never refuse bacon.

He removed the lid from one of the dishes, revealing a bounty of colorful pastries. A curtain of sugar plumed from the dish. My stomach rumbled. The second container housed scrambled eggs and bacon. A third brimmed with fruit.

This was too much for us.

For me.

“You cook, sir?” I asked.

That amused him. “No. I ordered in.”

“Neat.”

“I thought we should celebrate.”

My eyebrow arched. “Celebrate…what?”

“Our arrangement.”

He said nothing else. I nodded, too amazed by the food to jeopardize a breakfast that wasn’t a microwaved greasy fast-food sandwich from the café’s glass case.

The last time I had a real breakfast—with sausage and eggs and bacon and all manner of jellies—was when I’d visited home months ago, when my mother could still have a conversation with me without the aid of the National Guard.

Anthony offered me a bit of everything. I took it with a smile. He didn’t let the plate go until I thanked him with a sir.

I poked at my scrambled eggs, a perfectly soft and fluffy consistency. “You didn’t come to bed last night.”

“No, I didn’t.”

He went quiet. He didn’t seem angry, but he wanted to watch me squirm. Touché. I probably deserved that.

“What did you do all night?”

“Worked.”

“All night?”

“Depending on the latest wild and unknowing whim of Atwood Industries…I tend to pull many all-nighters for my client.”

“You have only one?”

“Sarah’s enough of a handful.”

“Does it get boring?”

“It’s never boring with an Atwood and Bennett in the same room.”

“And you’re…corporate law? Contracts and mergers and all that?”

He nodded. “Mergers, acquisitions, and divestiture. Consulting, analysis, financials.”

“Right.”

“You seem…surprised.”

“My work consists of doodling flowers and letters in foam on top of a cup of coffee. You…” I glanced over the balcony. “Well, one day I’m going to wake up from this sexy dream with a newfound fetish and unrealistic expectations for my future relationships.”

“You’re more than coffee, Morgan.”

“Nothing is as impressive as what you have.”

“It’s no violin.”

I unsuccessfully swallowed my bite of bacon. It scratched all the way down and exploded into shrapnel in my stomach.

And here I thought sex would be the most awkward topic of the morning.

“Can’t live in a violin…” I forced a laugh. “But you have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, pet.”

“I get the feeling you’re not here much.”

His attention diverted to his phone as it buzzed against the table. He sighed, checked his email, and opened a document on his laptop. If he was tired, he didn’t show it. His hair shined dark, smoothed into a respectable ponytail. He wore only his vest and pants, properly pressed and expertly tailored to his frame. He’d tossed the suit jacket over another chair. As casual as Anthony could become.

“My job requires considerable traveling, mostly north to San Jose,” he said. “I’ll likely be out of town this week.”

“Oh.”

Did the disappointment in my voice need to carry over the awakening city? Well, if nothing else, I’d earned his complete attention.

“Oh?” He leaned back in the chair. Every inch of him rippled with power wrapped in the suit. Most men shrunk in suits, especially the beaten-down middle management types shuffling through the café between meetings. But the vest and slacks belonged on him, as natural as the collars binding the submissives at Duchess.

I twisted. Suddenly the eggs weren’t the only things scrambled at the table.

“How long will you be gone?” I bit my lip.

“Why? Will you miss me?”

“Yes, sir.”

I don’t think he anticipated my honesty, but his heated glance was worth the confession. “Forthcoming, aren’t you, little one?”

“What’s left for me to hide, sir?”

“Hopefully nothing.”

If only he knew. The only secret I kept was one he could read in my squirming. Last night, I’d longed for him to return to the bed. To pull away the blankets and climb upon my trembling body. I’d hoped to be devoured and claimed, filled and pounded until my body screamed for him as loudly as my heart.

His smile was knowing, a bit of power I never should have given him. “If that’s the case, I’ll ensure I’m back in a few days.”

“Okay.”

His eyes shined black in the sunlight. “You’re a good pet, Morgan, but I’m glad I didn’t fuck you last night.”

I sucked in a breath, flinching at the word.

Not what I wanted to hear. No warm, sensual promise shadowed that humiliation. My arousal did a one-eighty and fluttered into nausea.

Anthony’s voice was kinder than the gut-punch deserved. “You should have been honest with me.”

“I know.”

“There’s nothing shameful about being a virgin, but you didn’t respect me enough to tell me the truth.”

“Anthony, I respect you, I do. More than you realize—”

“You weren’t ready to submit to me.”

And I wasn’t ready to be chastised. “I felt pretty submitted.”

“You weren’t ready, and that’s the end of it.”

“But…” I picked at my fruit. “But you spanked me.”

“Yes.”

“And you made me...”

“Say it, pet.”

“You spanked me and made me come.” I breathed easier once the words escaped. “I was ready for you. Whatever you wanted, I would have done.”

“Anything?”

“Anything, sir.”

“You’d have given me your virginity?”

“I’d give it to you right now on this table if I wasn’t so sure we’d spill the syrup.”

He chuckled, running his hand along his chin. He studied me. I loved how warm his gaze teased. “And I’d take it. You know that.”

“Then why…”

“Because you didn’t submit.”

And I didn’t understand. “What more do you want from me?”

Anthony held my gaze, intense, as if he were peeling away my clothes and exploring my body once more. My lips parted. I needed something. A touch. A kiss. Even a slap. I craved some sort of contact to quiet the demanding part of me that wanted everything.

“Why did you drop out of college?”

The breakfast curdled in my stomach.

My foreplay turned interrogation, and the familiar shadow of disappointment and unease crept into my veins.

I said nothing.

“If you want to submit to me, if you’re offering me such a priceless part of your life…I want to know why. I want to know who you are, Morgan. Not just how you feel, what you like, what you dislike. I want you, and until you give me the truth…”

Sleeping naked in his bed. Fancy shower and breakfast on the balcony. And he wanted to discuss my humiliating college failure and subsequent dropout?

Playing the piano had been a mistake, and I knew it’d bite me the instant I’d sat at the keyboard.

But I’d wanted to show him. In that moment, in that blinding madness, I’d thought I’d could impress him by offering just a piece of the life I once had.

And now? Ruined.

My heart would stop if it didn’t break first.

Real-life flooded back to me. I hadn’t checked the mail for three days. The dread ripped through me. Student loans were waiting. My updated lease. The newsletter from college. Nothing good every came in the mail, and most of it sucked out what little savings I had dwindling from my bank account.

And I needed that money. I’d be scrounging around my car, looking for laundry quarters again. My grocery trip this week would substitute a jug of milk for a sponge to scrub the tub. I had a double shift at the coffeehouse tomorrow so I could pay for a new pair of work shoes and maybe a few extra groceries, but my violin needed strings.

Not that it mattered. I hadn’t played in weeks.

Why? Why did he do this to me now?

Every day, I existed. I did just enough to push all those responsibilities and memories from my mind—forcing me to forget what had been a life consisting of more than a barista gig and constant worry. Anthony was the one barrier I had, the one escape from real-life and my horrible mistakes.

Was it so much to want a distraction? A relationship comprised of rules and rituals so complicated it’d compel me to focus on someone else instead?

“Morgan?” Anthony asked. “You can tell me.”

My mouth dried like I swallowed my napkin instead of my breakfast. I couldn’t handle the sugary scent of the pastries blending with the savory grease of the bacon and sausage. My stomach heaved.

No. I couldn’t talk about this now. Not in the multi-million-dollar home of a man who had no concept of the word failure.

“Concerto,” I whispered.

“What?”

“Concerto. I don’t want to talk about that.”

His gaze burned. “Morgan, that’s not how the word works—”

“You said you would stop.” I didn’t mean for my words to waver. I scooted the chair backwards, preparing to run if he pressed any harder. “I don’t want to talk about that. Please. Sir.”

Anthony didn’t move. His muscles tensed.

And his disappointment ached through me.

His voice lowered. “I didn’t think you wanted this to be just about sex.”

“I don’t!” I spoke quickly, without considering just what such a confession meant. Somehow that truth was easier to endure than my music. “I don’t. But that’s such a personal question...”

“Did something happen to you at college?”

“Please, sir.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

Oh God. Anthony was serious. He thought the absolute worst, and that possibility enraged him. His fist tightened over his vibrating phone. His knuckles turned white.

It was a good thing no one had ever harmed me.

Anthony prepared for war.

“No, sir,” I knotted my napkin in my lap. “College was one self-inflicted mistake. I’m not a druggie or cutter or anything like that, so don’t worry. I’m your run-of-the-mill screw-up. We don’t need to talk about it.”

“The Morgan at the piano last night and the Morgan having breakfast with me are two different women.”

Truth. “I shouldn’t have played the piano.”

“Why?”

“Concerto.”

“I told you that isn’t how it works.”

“Then you lied to me.”

Anthony’s phone rang again. This time, he’d answer.

And I saw how this relationship would end.

He wanted answers. Worse. He wanted to understand me. He’d liked the musical Morgan, probably preferred her to the exotic beauty he’d claimed through sheer attraction. And, classic me, I panicked. Instead of sleeping with Anthony, I’d snuggled up with my constant companions—denial and anxiety.

Would telling him the truth be any worse than pissing him off and losing what we had?

Why was this so scary?

“Last night was the first time I played music in a year,” I whispered.

Anthony ignored the call. “And?”

I hated how harsh he sounded. “And that’s a big deal to me.”

“Why?”

“Because it is.” My voice turned into a timid vibrato. “For the first time since I left college, I played music again. And I owe it to you. Or…what you represent. Or because I wanted you to see me how I was, before everything screwed up. That was a big moment for me, but you wouldn’t understand even if I explained it. You’re not like me.” I sighed. “And believe me, Anthony. I want to be like you. I think that’s the whole reason I’m so…” No word sounded right. “Smitten.”

“Smitten?” He smirked.

Fuck me, whatever. “Smitten.”

The gesture was slight, just a few curled fingers, but it was everything I needed. He welcomed me into his lap, and I wove myself tight against his chest.

“I want you to trust me, pet.”

“I wouldn’t have played if I didn’t trust you.” I braved a glance to his eyes. “I’m not sure how to explain what happened a year ago. Suffice to say, it’s gotten so bad my mother peeled off my stick figure from the back window of her SUV.”

“I...guess that is bad.”

“I’m figuring things out. My life. What I want to do now that music isn’t an option. I have no answers for you…but you’ll be the first to know when I find out.”

He gave me a sigh, knocking his forehead against mine. “Are you sure you want this relationship? Are you sure you want me?”

“More than anything, sir.” I kissed his cheek. It felt wholesome and silly, but he seemed charmed. “Do you want me?”

“I’ve never had a sub of my own before.”

The admission shocked me. “What? Really?”

“I’d owned Duchess for years. We had plenty of submissive girls at our disposal.” He brushed a finger along my cheek. “They wanted a dom as much as I’d wanted to get off. We never made it anything…personal. Just fucking.”

He combined such brazen truth with a soft caress. It stunned me.

“So…” I shrugged. “Why take the time to teach me?”

“Because I knew you were different.”

His pale hand against my dark skin made sense. “Obviously.”

His soft petting became a quick, but gentle, slap against my cheek. “Your skin is part of it, but it only enhances your beauty. What I’m talking about is something inside you. Something that makes you special. Different is a good thing, Morgan. And don’t you forget it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The girls at Duchess know they’re submissives. They’re looking for someone to tie them up, toss them around, get them off. They don’t care who holds the paddle.” He stared at me. “And I think you do.”

My stomach danced a bit too close to the fire he kindled just a little lower. I stayed quiet.

“You’re a natural submissive, pet…but you wouldn’t act this way for anyone, would you?”

I shook my head.

“You’re mine.” His smile grew, simultaneously sincere and wicked. “And you’ll be mine in every way possible.”

“Sir?”

“Do you know how tempting you are, little one?” His hand traced to my neck and squeezed, just enough to keep my attention. “An innocent virgin, right here in my lap. Waiting to be fucked for the very first time.”

“By you?”

“No one else is ever going to touch you, Morgan.”

I stilled, but he didn’t. His words deepened, a rough and possessive growl. “You are completely innocent. Practically untouched. I’ve waited to take a submissive because I wanted the perfect one…and along came you, poor little thing. Lost and confused, stumbled right into my trap.”

“Not much of a trap.” I reached for his hand on my throat. He didn’t release me, and I didn’t fight it. “I can’t imagine giving myself to anyone else.”

“You’re not giving anything, pet. I’m taking it. Every inch of you will belong to me. Every spanking. Every orgasm. Every fucking thrust inside you. You will marked, owned, and completely trained just…for…me…”

The grip tightened, but he didn’t hurt or cut off my air, just made my heart beat that much faster. Wasn’t a surprise. I was pretty sure he already controlled that part of me, even if I couldn’t admit it.

“But if we’re going to continue, I’m going to expect certain things from you, Morgan.”

“Anything, sir.”

“I’ll be demanding. I’ll expect you to learn the etiquette and rituals. There’s more I need to show you to learn your limits, things you can’t even imagine. I’ll occupy a lot of your time.”

Nothing sounded more perfect. “Believe me, sir. I used to have mandatory practices and rehearsals and recitals and classes and music theory lessons every day. I’m not afraid of being busy.”

And I wasn’t afraid of finding a suitable replacement for those lost musical hours either.

Anthony pulled me close, nibbling at my lips. The tension coiling in my muscles faded into a possessive warmth that drew me into him—his arms, the sharp scent, the feel of his tongue over mine. I groaned, my fingers digging into his vest.

He rewarded my boldness with a deep kiss. I whimpered as he wrapped his arms over me. Holding me tight. An image of last night wove through my mind, tangled up together, arching as he just nearly thrust inside me.

“You aren’t satisfied from last night,” he murmured.

“Were you?”

He didn’t answer. “Did you like the spanking?”

I didn’t stop kissing him, only gasped during momentary breaths. “Every second.”

My hips moved over his. He’d hardened, and the bulge fought against the tug of his slacks. Apparently, he’d liked the spanking too. 0

I timidly shrugged. “You didn’t get to...”

“No need for such modesty, Morgan.” His fingers dug into my waist, deliberately striking a spot still sore from the spanking. My breathing hissed, but the sensation transformed from pain to a quick, pulsing heat.

“You didn’t get to come.” The word sounded so dirty I nearly said it again. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not, pet?”

“Because…I did.”

His hand snaked to my neck. “Try again.”

His grip tightened the longer I hesitated. Within seconds I knew why, but the thought drew a low whimper from my lips.

“Because you’re my...” I shivered. “Because I’m the pet, and you’re...”

“Your master.”

Oh, the word hit me harder than any spanking.

I hadn’t called him that before—the word sir just as much an endearment as pet. It sounded naughty. Dirty. Formal.

And I needed to be formal. I’d overstepped a boundary I didn’t know existed.

“It isn’t your decision when or where I take my pleasure.” Anthony kissed my throat, punctuating his control with a quick nip. “If I’d wanted it, I’d have taken it. Nothing would have stopped me.”

“Do you want it now?”

His phone rang. I groaned. Anthony pushed me from his lap, but he didn’t let me sit. Instead, he guided me to his feet, planting me between his legs.

“This will be easier once you’re leashed, pet, but until then…” He picked up the phone, issuing his order. “Make it up to me, Morgan.”

He answered the call.

And pulled my head into his lap.

“Sarah, this better be goddamned important to call before eight…”

My insides clenched. I stroked Anthony’s legs. Even if I had the courage, even if he hadn’t answered his business call, I couldn’t have asked him exactly what he wanted.

He expected me to pleasure him, from my knees on the ground. I was meant to serve him.

Anthony continued with his conversation, dragging me under the table as he needed to view a document on his laptop. I crawled along, humiliated, but grateful for the table. Even forty stories up, we were still outside. That made any sort of sex…

Public.

My hands trembled as I reached for his zipper. Too much. Mercifully, he ran out of patience. He pulled his thick, monster cock from his pants and waited.

Holy moly.

Where was I supposed to begin?

I sucked in a breath, praying that I only imagined that his cock appeared a wide as my wrist. Maybe it was a good thing we hadn’t had sex. The beast pulsing in my hands didn’t seem as considerate as the rest of Anthony. It demanded attention, throbbing hot and thick. It’d never fit in me.

Not easily.

But I wanted to try.

My instincts boiled my blood. This was a damn good reason to surrender to a man. I’d submit to this cock, take every inch and whimper my way into oblivion. My core clenched so hard it hurt.

I wrapped my hands over him. His length twitched between my palms. Hot and stiff.

Deliciously deviant.

He’d forgiven me for the lies and allowed me my privacy into the darker aspects of my life. The least I could do was show him how grateful I was for all of his attention, devotion, and tutelage.

“Even if you plan the merger into the second quarter, both boards might resist losing the liquid assets so early into the year…”

Anthony concentrated on his conversation.

And I focused on him.

One quick breath, and I took him in my mouth. I couldn’t fit much past his head. That didn’t matter. I flicked my tongue over the most impressive cock I’d ever seen. He curled a leg behind me, forcing me closer.

My stomach fluttered. His head was sensitive. Mission critical intelligence that I gained from my first taste. I swirled my tongue around him, kissing a delicate trail over the tip. Anthony tensed.

“They anticipate a greater fourth quarter than last year, but that doesn’t necessitate a five percent increase in sale price. You start gunning for their research and development division, and your costs are going to skyrocket.”

I liked pleasing Anthony. This was easy, even inexperienced. I simply…explored. Licked and kissed and discovered the most important part of my master. I’d earn his pleasure like he so easily possessed mine.

And something felt right about this. He said I was a natural submissive, but I hadn’t understood. How else should I have acted or spoken around him? I imploded at his touch, cast aside my inhibitions at his suggestion, and came with every degrading bit of public humiliation or spanking he could offer. Sucking on his cock while he arranged multi-million-dollar business deals seemed like a damned aphrodisiac now.

Anthony grunted. “Fine. Get Bennett on the line. We’ll deal with this issue now—no, I’ll never call him Nick, stop asking.”

A conference call.

He’d take a conference call while I gave him head.

I curled around his lap, holding close. I stopped just short of rubbing my parted legs against his shin, but every nerve ending in my body begged me to surrender and hump like some wanton slut.

But this was for him.

I had my pleasure last night, and he was forced to work through the morning, tense and frustrated. It wasn’t fair, and I’d make it right.

I’d make sure he loved every part of this.

My tongue flicked over his cock, dipping down the underside of his shaft. In a moment of brazen lust, I parted my lips and sucked as far down as I could get, drawing back to the tip as I came up for air.

He liked that. Gripped my pigtails and forced my head down once more. I repeated the thrill. Twice. Three times. Until my whimpers became muffled begging and my thighs tightened.

His conference call connected, and he greeted the CEO of Bennett Enterprises with a curt, impatient grunt before launching into contracts, regulations, stock values, and acquisition laws.

Nothing about this felt shameful.

Naughty and sexy, but not shameful.

I gripped his shaft, pumping with my hand to watch as the sensitive skin pressed upwards. His hardness was practically perverse in the morning sunshine, but it didn’t stop me from kissing him in a chorus of hums and delighted giggles.

He was right. This was natural. Me, on my knees. Him, receiving every lick of promised pleasure. I nibbled and caressed as gently as I could, reveling in this newfround freedom of sexual captivity. This was where I wanted to be…kneeling between his legs, moaning as he grabbed a pigtail to encourage me.

And it was working. His grip tightened and loosened. He missed a question directed to him, but he took out that frustration on my mouth.

He positioned my lips around his cock and forced my head up and down, bobbing against his length, only far enough to tease the sensitive underside. Not violent or harsh. Just demanding. Expecting far more than tender kisses.

I let him control me, to take what he wanted from my swollen lips and flicking tongue.

His cock hardened even more. Anthony didn’t let me escape. He pinned me over him, my lips tight over the shaft.

Then…he came.

I struggled for only a moment, realizing I had nowhere to go and I had no idea what to expect.

He shot into my mouth. Warmth jetted over my tongue, coating the back of my throat.

Warm.

Salty.

Delicious.

I reflexively swallowed, surprising both him and myself. Anthony pumped more onto my tongue, and I swallowed again and again, milking every salty drop from his cock. My head ached where he gripped, but I would have cried out if he let me go. I liked the pain almost as much as his command of me.

As much as giving him pleasure and making him come so wildly on my tongue.

He released me.

The connection shocked us both. I couldn’t see his face, couldn’t read his expression, but I knew his heart thudded just as fiercely as mine.

Something changed between us.

An understanding. A need.

The pulsing heat between my legs became a full-blooded instinct. We both knew where his next orgasm belonged, and it wasn’t my mouth.

He didn’t say to move, so I didn’t. I folded against his knees, resting my head and catching my breath as he finished his call.

Almost like I wasn’t there, gripping his slacks, desperate for him to utter a single word.

Pet.

Only once he was done did he help me to my feet. He straightened my shirt. Kissed my forehead. He rubbed his thumb against my lip. I took it in my mouth without hesitation.

“Have you ever done that before?” he asked.

I shook my head. He smirked, removing his thumb and tracing his touch over my body.

“You did very well, pet.” His words thrilled me. “Perfect.”

“What happens now?”

“Now, you be a good girl. I need to take you home, make sure you get to work on time. And I have to leave.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Soon…” He caressed my cheek. “I have plans for you, pet, but you must trust me. Completely. Obey me, do as I say, and I promise…” He kissed me, gently and passionately. “You’ll love everything I plan to do to you.”

I accepted his kiss and sunk against his chest. If this was trust and submission, he had me without the need for a collar and leash. And I couldn’t wait to experience all that he promised.

Even if his next challenge tested me. Terrified me.

Exposed me.

I wasn’t ready for what he wanted…