The Chalet

Page 23

She didn’t reply to my version of the weekend in question, but sat up and took me in her hand. “You talk about my taste. What about yours? I want you hard and seconds away from coming. That way when I finally have you completely in my mouth, I won’t have long to wait before I taste your pleasure.”

And with that, she released me from her grasp and lowered her mouth onto my cock. I hit the back of her throat, but she relaxed and I sank all the way in. It was too much: the sight of my cock sliding into her mouth, the wet heat I found inside.

“Fucking hell.” I lifted my hips, thrusting deeper, and my release burst from me.

She drank it down almost greedily and when I pulled out, she licked her lips. “I think I lied.”

I felt drained after that last climax and wasn’t sure I could move. I managed to lift an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t just for you.”

Chapter Eight

Abby

As planned, we spent the next morning resting at the chalet. Much of our time was spent on the lower level, enjoying the indoor pool. In the afternoon we put on our ski clothes and went outside for a while.

It came as no surprise to me that Nathaniel was an expert skier. Fortunately, I wasn’t half bad either. For a few hours, we explored the area surrounding the chalet.

“Apollo would love all this snow,” I said as we made our way back inside. Apollo was the Golden Retriever Nathaniel rescued years before we met. He was spending the next few weeks at Jackson and Felicia’s house. Apollo liked Jackson and was friendlier toward Felicia than to most other people.

We took off our wet clothes and warmed up in front of the living room fire. Nathaniel went to check on the steaks he was marinating for dinner and when he came back to the living room, he sat behind me and pulled me to his chest.

I snuggled into his arms with a content sigh. Though the living room was furnished with several plush couches and chairs, I enjoyed sitting on the soft rug in front of the fireplace. Much like the bedroom, the living room had numerous floor-to-ceiling windows. Nathaniel had pulled the curtains before we left, so at the moment, the room felt intimate.

“Have you given any more thought to tomorrow,” he asked. “Should we check out the village or stay here?”

“I still think we should stay here and you should collar me.”

He placed a gentle hand around my neck. “Just for the day?”

“Night, too.”

“Okay, and we’ll decide then what we want to do next?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” I said. “But does that give you enough time to prepare?”

I knew how much thought he put into one of our normal weekends and that was at his house, where everything was familiar. I would think being in a new place, specifically one that didn’t have a playroom, would be more challenging and he’d need longer to prepare.

He laughed softly. “Time to prepare? What do you think I’ve been doing for the past month? All I need is my toy bag and you. Private room preferred, but not necessary.”

“What?” I asked, turning around to see his face.

He was smiling. “Just seeing if you were listening. I don’t plan on playing in public while we’re here.”

“Maybe it’s too bad we’re not staying at a crowded resort,” I said. “Think about all the fun we could have on the ski lift.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Just as well you’re the one in charge, I’d probably get us arrested.”

“Or killed.”

“Nah,” I said. “I wouldn’t go that far, but incarceration would have been a definite possibility.”

“Somehow, I think I could deal with prison if it was a result of something you’d planned for us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. After a few minutes of silence, I added, “So tomorrow?”

He kissed the top of my head. “Yes, tomorrow.”

***

After breakfast the next morning, he told me to strip and go wait in the bedroom. Though I’d been expecting to be told to do so, my heart pounded anyway. It’d been a month, my less than rational side thought. What if I forgot everything? What if I messed up? How awful would that be? To mess up on our honeymoon?

I won’t say I was as nervous as I’d been the first time we played; I wasn’t. But there was a certain excitement that set my heart racing and made my nerve endings prickle.

He made me wait for a long time, or at least it seemed like a long time. Especially since by “wait” in the bedroom, he meant “kneel.” While kneeling on the floor, I couldn’t see the clock by the bed, but judging by the number of my breaths, more than ten minutes went by. My knees were out of practice with kneeling and they started to ache almost immediately. I resisted the urge to shift my weight; he could be watching, after all. I forced myself to be still and remain in the proper waiting position.

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