Page 143 of The Wedding

“Yes, ma’am.”

Etta’s lips lingered on Jamie’s throat, teeth tugging on her collar as one finger pushed aside her lingerie and dipped into her arousal. “I have no idea where the fuck I am. All I know is that it’s warm around my finger.”

AllJamieknew was that she was getting fingered in a Lamborghini.

If she thought anything would be gentle this early in the day, then she was sorely mistaken. Etta lived to do nothing but pleasure herright now, although most of that pleasure probably transferred to her and turned Etta into a vessel of Jamie’s worth. Because it wasn’t enough for her to stick one finger in her and watch her writhe and gasp. The ass – the wonderful, devilishly gorgeous ass – had to go and stick another one in there. She meant some business.

“You’re gonna make me come, ma’am,” Jamie said.

“You think that’s not what I want?” Her fingers were so deep that Jamie couldn’t help but welcome her in, one arm curling around Etta’s body while the other held her against the car door. “You would be so wrong. Fuck my fingers and come. Now.”

How could she disobey such a curt order? Jamie threw herself into what Etta did to her, hips raising off the seat and then crashing back down again with every thrust. It took about another twenty seconds before a heavy wave of orgasm overcame her and sent her shaking against the leather seat of the Lamborghini.

“See?” Etta pulled her fingers away, letting their wetness drip on Jamie’s thigh. Was that going to be her fate today? Walking around with wet lingerie because her Domme thought it was hot? “You did want it.”

“I know, ma’am.” She was still breathless, but Jamie was good at not betraying how much so. “I hope that’s not all today.”

Etta sat back, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her fingers. “Hardly. Now, close your legs before the wind dries you out. We’ve got a long drive into town.”

Chapter 47

They spent most of the afternoon downtown, walking hand-in-hand when they weren’t in some shop looking for new decorations for their homes or having lunch in an outdoor café that let Jamie feel that breeze in a new light.

Etta was a perfect lady outside of making her girlfriend come in front of God and most definitely country. She didn’t let Jamie carry anything but her purse, unafraid to be seen with more than one shopping bag that soon disappeared into her car. Jamie had no qualms pouring her drinks at lunch, and she in turn engaged Jamie in conversations that made her forget they were technically in a scene for a while.Is this what Monique was talking about? Forgetting the kink aspect and doing what feels natural?The only thing that had changed from this moment to what they usually did when out for a day was the heavy air of what they were about.

Jamie never forgot that she wore her collar. Etta wasn’t just her fiancée. She was her Domme today, and Jamie had to do whatever she wanted, and anticipate things she didn’t even know she yet wanted. She was constantly brushing her jacket clean so she looked presentable wherever they went. Jamie was pretty sure a professional photographer from a paper caught ashot of them, but she didn’t care. So what if they showed up in the society pages out on a date?

People complimented her collar. Granted, most of those people had no idea what it symbolized, but Jamie still blushed to hear how beautiful it was. Etta thanked them on Jamie’s behalf, who was so flummoxed that Etta had to lead her away from every situation.

This whole time, Jamie thought about how much she wanted to please her.

They were getting married in over six weeks. Pretty soon, Jamie would be Mrs. Coleman, one of the most envious positions around. Surely, Etta understood this. No matter how many times she said she wanted to be with her above all other women, Jamie still worried that Etta wasn’t pleased enough with her. Funny how that thought only came to her when she had the collar on. Maybe she was more natural at this whole sub thing than she thought.

It’s my job to make sure she’s taken care of. To make sure that I am available to her.She kept waiting for Etta to take her somewhere and have her way with her. The woman hadn’t so much as flinched. Still, Jamie sort of wished Etta would ask her to be naughty in the back corner of some store or behind the tinted windows of her car.

Their date day came to an end when they got in the car after spending half an hour in an Asian import store. Etta bought a birthday present for a friend, and Jamie purchased a new table for the salon where she liked to hang out. It would be delivered on Monday, they were assured.

Etta drove them to the penthouse, where someone was more than happy to help them with their bags and park Etta’s car, which she rarely brought to stay downtown. A generous tip was left for this gracious employee.

“Now,” Etta said, as soon as the front door to the penthouse closed, “we’ve got a big dinner ahead of us. Remember what I told you to do last time we had dinner with business associates?”

Jamie nodded. “Stay silent and be watchful.”

“You should still be observant and studious of other people’s needs. However, there’s no need for you to be quiet today. Although, it’s probably best I choose your outfit again. Wouldn’t want you picking something bland.”

Jamie’s mouth twitched. “When have I ever picked somethingbland, ma’am?”

“Never. But let’s not risk it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jamie was not surprised when Etta picked a black dress from the penthouse closet.That closet is nowhere near as big as the walk-in back home. Does the job, though.Jamie was getting jaded. Not like she kept much downtown, anyway. All the really nice stuff stayed up in the hills, aside from some choice cocktail dresses.

Like the one Etta chose for her. This one was a Calvin Klein sheath dress, with a golden buckle cinching the waist and a sharp V-neck cut accentuating her collarbone. It was far from the most expensive thing in her closet, but it was slimming and, well, if Etta’s wandering hands could be trusted, stunning on Jamie.

Etta sat her down at her vanity. To Jamie’s great, almost heart-attack-inducing surprise, Etta brushed out her fiancée’s curls and pulled her hair back in a low-riding ponytail that made her look at least five years younger.

“Since when are you my stylist, ma’am?” Jamie asked. Etta had never brushed her hair before, and Jamie never thought in a million years to ask. Why would she?