Sweet Persuasion

When Sam passed them in the living room, she quickly ducked behind Damon and huddled against his back. Sam merely nodded as Damon said good morning and continued on toward the front door.

When he was gone, Damon turned and gently pried her hand away from his back.

“I realize this is new to you, and that is why I’ll be patient, but you aren’t to ever hide your body.”

“But you said that you were the only one who would enjoy, who would see . . .”

He held up a finger to her lips. “Only I will touch you, Serena. Only I will hold you. Only I will possess you. The people in my employ are discreet and they will not stare. In time, it won’t bother you to be nude in front of them.”

She opened her mouth to protest again, but he effectively hushed her. “These are my wishes. You will heed them.”

The word no hovered precariously on her lips, but she remembered well that he’d said the moment she said no, it was over. He’d been honest with her. Told her he’d push her, that he was demanding and arrogant. But she could say no. And if she did, he would back down immediately. The downside would be that she would lose everything. Her fantasy. Her chance to satisfy her deepest desires and cravings.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He smiled and took her hand in his as he leaned in to brush his lips across hers. He squeezed her hand when he kissed her, showing her with more than words that she’d pleased him with her response.

A giddy thrill fluttered in her chest. She did want to please him. Wanted it badly.

He gave her hand one last squeeze and then tugged her toward the kitchen. They passed a formal dining room on their way to the large gourmet kitchen. It was absolutely gorgeous and almost made her wish she cooked. Almost. That was one skill she’d never really mastered, and she wasn’t too torn up about it either.

There was a smaller table in a cozy little alcove in front of a bay window that thankfully had shutters, closed shutters. Breakfast was already laid out for them, a selection of bagels, toast, grits, eggs and biscuits. And juice. Orange and grape.

Then she saw that there was only one chair. She frowned and glanced at the floor. Surely he wouldn’t expect her to sit on the floor.

He sighed and ushered her forward. He pulled the chair out and sat before tugging her down onto his lap. He settled her crossways so her side rested against his chest.

“Will you always feed me?” she asked. It seemed okay at times, but every time? It would grate on her nerves after a while.

“I’ll feed you when it pleases me to do so,” he said simply. “And it pleases me this morning.”

She had to smile. He could be infuriating if she let him get to her. He was a calm bastard. Calm and convinced. She just loved a confident man. Borderline arrogant was even better, but then nothing about him was borderline. He was absolutely arrogant, all male, sexy as freaking hell and he fucked like a dream.

She made a little contented noise and burrowed deeper into his chest.

“Do you prefer grape or orange juice?” he asked.

“I’d love grape.”

He poured the juice in a small glass and then brought it to her lips, tilting it just enough that she could sip the fluid without spilling it. After several long swallows, he pulled it away.

“Get enough?”

She nodded and licked the juice from her lips.

He alternated giving her bites of the eggs and then the grits. Then he’d break off a piece of biscuit and hold it to her lips. Often he’d gently wipe his finger on her tongue, and even that became an exercise in the sensual. Who knew that the act of being fed could be so intimate?

She noticed that he hadn’t eaten much yet, and she was nearly full, which gave her an idea. She was, after all, supposed to be his slave, but so far he’d treated her like he was the slave and she was royalty or something.

When he next offered her a bite of the biscuit, she put out her hand to stay his. Surprise rippled across his face when she took the bread from his fingers and slowly pressed it to his lips.

He opened his mouth, and she slid her fingers in, letting the bread crumble on his tongue and the tips of her finger brush his warmth. As she withdrew, he closed his mouth around her finger and sucked lightly.

Damn, but now she knew why he liked feeding her so much. Encouraged by his response and the fact that he hadn’t indicated she’d overstepped her boundaries, she reached for the fork and speared a piece of egg.

She guided the fork to his mouth and gently fed him the morsel.

“Your fingers,” he said as she pulled the fork away. “Use your fingers.”

With a smile, she reached down and swiped her finger through the grits and quickly raised it to his mouth. Some dribbled onto his chin when she wasn’t fast enough, and after he’d sucked her finger clean, she leaned up and licked away the spot on his skin.

He sucked in his breath and tensed against her. Oh yeah, she liked this feeding thing.

When she reached for the juice to hold it to his mouth, he put a hand on her wrist. “What are you doing?” he asked. There was no reprimand in his voice, just mild curiosity.

“I’m your slave,” she said. “Am I not supposed to care for you? See to your needs?”

Something flashed in his eyes. Primitive and dark. His pupils flared and dilated for a brief moment before returning to their normal size.

As she moved the glass closer, he parted his lips for her to let him drink. His gaze never left her as he sipped at the juice. When she pulled it away, she reached up and gently wiped at a small droplet at the corner of his mouth.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

“You like being fed,” she said.

One corner of his mouth quirked upward in a smile. “No one has ever offered to take care of me before. I find I rather like it.”

She touched his cheek and stroked lightly over his strong jawline. “Then I hope we can make this a two-way street. I very much want to please you, not only by ceding to your wishes but by taking care of you and seeing to your needs as you see to mine.”

He looked stu

“I’d like that very much,” he said in a low voice.

She couldn’t hide her smile. He reached out and brushed his fingers across her lips.

“You have such a beautiful, open smile,” he said. “It lights up your entire face and makes your eyes turn the most spectacular shade of blue.”

For the longest time they simply stared at one another, their gazes locked as if each was searching deep into the other’s soul.

Finally, he touched her cheek and dipped his head, moving first one way and, when she moved, adjusting again so that their lips were in line. When he had her just where he wanted, he put both hands to her face and held her as he lowered his lips to hers.

It was so much more than she’d anticipated. The first touch of his lips was like an electric shock to her very depths. It was the lightest of touches. So exquisitely gentle that she sighed into his mouth.

He treated her like a piece of finely blown glass. His tongue, tentative at first, licked at her lips, coaxing her to open to his advances. She readily complied, parting her lips to allow him entry.

The sweet taste of grape juice filled her mouth as their tongues dueled. This was no passionate, urgent kiss, no mauling of mouths. Rather, it was warm and slow, lazy like a hot summer day.

Comfort. If there was a word to describe the feeling that flooded her heart, it would be comfort. Companionship. Trust. How odd that these were the things that sprang to mind as she gave herself over to the delicious sensations that his lips plied her with.

They both gasped for breath but neither pulled away. Her arms twined around his neck as his hands framed her face to pull her closer still. Light smooching sounds echoed, the soft click of lips on lips, tongues against tongues.