Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(43)

He chuckled. “Katherine, we’re going to a soiree. There is going to be a fundraiser tonight for a political campaign, and because I’m on the board I’m required to be there. I’m taking you as my date.”

“A fundraising soiree?” a laugh bubbled out of her, surprising her as the rebellious part of her rose up. “Awfully… strange place for… a first date…” she ended on a gasp, squeezing her legs together tightly as the pleasure built. She was so close to coming, she was certain she would go over the edge in just a few seconds.

“Uh-uh-uh,” he wagged a finger as he bit down sharply on her earlobe, the stinging pain an admonishment. The vibrator shut off and she sagged, both relief and frustration sinking through her. “Another rule. You aren’t allowed to come unless I give you permission.”

Katherine bit back a groan. How was she going to last the night? They hadn’t even left yet and she was already dripping wet and on the verge of begging. She bit the inside of her cheek to try and get a handle on herself. “Yes, Mr. Donaldson.”

“In private you must call me Master.” He pinched her bottom through her dress, making her jump. “In public, when we’re with other people, you may call me Mark.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good.” He took her arm in his. “Our carriage awaits.”

Their ‘carriage’ was a black stretch Lincoln limousine with a fully-stocked bar and seats that stretched along the sides of the limo’s interior rather than facing forward. Katherine wondered if the driver who held the door open noticed her flushed face or stiffened nipples—his expression was polite yet unfathomable, so she couldn’t tell what he thought of her. She was certain she didn’t look like any of the women he normally took around in this limo. She was too short, and not skinny enough.

His phone rang almost immediately when they got into the limo and after glancing at the screen, made his apologies to her before answering it. She sat across from him, her eyes restlessly drifting across the interior as well as the view outside, but inevitably coming back to the tiny bulge in his pants pocket where she knew the remote lay. She could feel the metal of the vibrator pressed intimately against her still, and try as she might it was impossible to relax—the knowledge that he could turn it on kept her in a mixture of dread and anticipation.

They arrived at their destination—a Hilton—and took the elevator up to the hall where the soiree was being hosted. The hall—tastefully decorated with gold and silver ribbons, flowers and balloons—was packed with people dressed in evening finery and holding champagne glasses while they sat at round tables draped in white table cloths set with candle and flower centerpieces. A band was playing soft, tasteful music up on the stage, and the banners clearly proclaimed the fundraiser and its message.

Mark snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray and handed it to her. “Drink some of this, and relax. You’re so tense you feel like a wooden board pressed up against my side.”

Katherine flushed as she took the glass from him and took a breath, trying to release the tension in her muscles. The task was made more difficult when he placed his hand at the small of her back, rubbing up and down gently—she knew he was trying to soothe her but his touch only heated her more. Placing the cool rim of the champagne flute to her lips, she allowed the bubbly liquid to slide down her throat, filling her with warmth. The knot of tension in her stomach eased slightly.

“Thank you,” she murmured, then thought to add, “Master.”

Smiling, he kissed the top of her head, then took her arm again and led her through the crowds of people, stopping by tables as well as clusters of people standing to talk. She was introduced to businessmen, politicians, even a few celebrities, and though initially she was a little flustered she found herself getting into the rhythm of things, learning to give and receive polite introductions, make small talk, take and give compliments. She couldn’t quite hold back the blushes on the many compliments she was given, either directly or indirectly when one of the men or women spoke to Mark and ask where he’d managed to find her. She wasn’t certain if they were being polite, or if they really meant it, but with Mark’s arm around her and the constant smiles he flashed her it didn’t matter.

Eventually dinner was served, and they sat at a table with several other patrons. As introductions were passed around she realized they were board members of the charity, just like he.

“Who is your friend, Mark?” a woman with silver hair dressed in a trim navy suit asked. Despite the color of her hair there was not a wrinkle on her face, and her dark eyes were warm, but vigorously alert.