Page 87 of Chain Me

“Upstairs.”

I turned automatically and staggered toward the staircase. He followed, keeping his distance during the entire long, winding trek to my bedroom.

Once inside it, he continued to advance, backing me toward my bed. His eyes burned too damn brightly. Maintaining contact for long was impossible. I tore my gaze down to his chest, seeking a reprieve. I found one. The contours of his body strained beneath his shirt, hypnotizing me with every shift in fabric as he came closer…

Closer…

An icy finger lifted my chin, forcing me to look up. His expression was guarded again, devoid of even the smugness I’d come to associate with him. When his lips finally parted, all he said was, “Is there anything else I can do for you,mistress?”

My answer rode a gasp. “P-Put…put me to bed.”

In return, he seized the front of my dress and yanked, ripping the material without the aid of Yulia’s tricks. The next second, he had me against the wall, his lips on mine, and there was nothing left to think about or worry over.

He controlled every motion, guiding my lips apart with his own to coax my tongue into submission. Coaxing—that was the only way to describe it. He teased the shame away, reawakening all those strange, unfamiliar sensations. I panted, breathless in the aftermath. Mindless.

Starvingin an entirely different way than I’d been earlier.

When he finally did “put me to bed,” it was in the literal sense. My back struck the mattress. He followed, settling over me, nudging my legs apart. Like a true subservient, he stripped down entirely for my benefit, watching as my lips parted and my eyes widened at every inch of chiseled muscle revealed.

Then he lunged into my touch, offering up his body to explore as I wished.

The mattress moaned beneath our combined weight, obscuring any sounds smothered into the sheets.

And my poor parents could only watch on in despair from beyond the grave.

Master and Protector

The next morning, I woke up alone. Ruffled sheets betrayed that someone had shared the bed with me during most of the night, leaving recently enough that the space beside me still resonated with their chill. I sighed, smelling him in the sheets, his scent mingling with mine.

For now, a voice hissed at the back of my skull.

I rolled onto my side to escape it, but doubt nibbled away at the pleasurable ache dissipating from my limbs.

For now… But how long until you drive him away again?

“Stop,” I scolded myself out loud, rising to my feet.

After dressing in a plain gray shift, I descended the steps and found Dublin lurking in the foyer. He was wearing black now and my tongue darted along my bottom lip in appreciation. Damn that color. It emphasized his eyes like nothing else.

And as they flickered in my direction, that terrible, doubting voice went silent.

“You there, servant.” I pointed at him, my chin in the air. “I’m famished. Make me something to eat.”

He inclined his head graciously in mock servitude. “What would you like,mistress?”

“I want…” As I descended the remainder of the steps, my hand shot out, demanding assistance.

He stepped forward, cradling my palm against his—but then my act slipped as my stomach growled. I truly was hungry, and even the prospect of spending hours watching him slave over a meal was no match.

“Grilled cheese,” I blurted, naming one of the few meals that even I knew didn’t require much fuss.

He raised an eyebrow. “In lieu of filet mignon and braised leg of lamb?”

I’d surprised him. Triumph left me beaming as he led me toward the kitchen.

“Yes, and not only that,” I added, stroking my chin. Cooking the meal himself would be far too easy. This time, I had another challenge in mind. “I want you to teachmehow to make it.”

“As you wish,” he agreed. “I’m sure even someone of your delicate nature can learn how to slice a loaf of bread.”