Finally, he entered me, sliding his entire length inside of me right to the hilt, his hands on each of my hips. I groaned from the pressure, my body clenching around his. He stayed in that position for a moment and I could hear him breathing in deeply behind me.
"You look so good," he murmured, stroking my ass, his fingers tracing my garter belt. "So damn beautiful…"
I glanced up and saw our reflection in the window, me leaning over the couch, my long hair pulled to one side, cascading down my neck, my breast bared. He leaned over me, kissing my shoulder while he began to thrust, the fingers of one hand brushing my clit, while the other hand played with my breast.
It didn't take long for me to come. Soon, I felt the sweet buildup of a powerful orgasm after the long day of frustrated arousal.
"Oh, God," I gasped, as delicious jolts of pleasure went down my legs and into my belly. "I…"
He grasped my hips and thrust hard and fast and that sent me over, my orgasm starting, my body convulsing around his cock, my legs shaking. I couldn't control my breathing, my breath coming in short gasps, oh, oh, oh God…
He stopped, wanting to feel my body convulsing around his cock, the spasms delighting him. He kissed my shoulder for a moment and then began thrusting once more, and as I watched our reflection in the window, he kept his gaze on our bodies as he fucked me, getting so much pleasure watching. Finally, his pace quickened until he slammed into me, coming as well, grunting in pleasure as he ejaculated.
He collapsed against me, breathing fast in my ear. We remained in that position for a moment and then he turned my head and kissed me. "Stay like that," he said as he withdrew slowly. "I want to watch."
I watched in the window as he sat down on the chair across from the couch and examined me. I smiled to myself, hiding my face against my shoulder, knowing he wanted to watch his semen drip out of me like some conquering warlord claiming his spoil of war.
"Tomorrow, after I'm finished with a few things at the hospital, I want you waiting for me here, naked except for your garters and stockings, blindfolded, kneeling beside the bed. We'll do a scene from my letters."
I nodded, happy that I'd get to experience what his submissives did as described in the tantalizing letters Lara had given me back when I had no idea he would be my Dom.
"Does that please you, Katherine?" he said, his voice warm and deep.
"Yes," I said, my voice soft. "It pleases me very much."
"You're going to let me tie you up and have my way with you tomorrow. I'm going to enjoy you exactly as I want to."
"Yes," I said. "You will."
"Good girl," he said and then came to me, pulling me upright, turning me around and embracing me, his mouth finding mine in a passionate kiss. I didn't think I could be any happier.
CHAPTER THREE
Drake's inner sanctum – his apartment in Chelsea.
Since the start of our affair, I'd spent weeks at his apartment on 8th Avenue where Drake kept his father's belongings and where he went to practice guitar. We played his game of dominance and submission there. It was where he first tied my hands to the bed frame and where I experienced more pleasure than I thought was possible.
Now that we were leaving at the end of the month, Drake was wrapping up things at the hospital and so we agreed he'd stay with me at my father's. My father was only too glad to oblige. I suspect my dad had visions of my wedding in his mind's eye, already planning it, but that was something I couldn't imagine.
I didn't let myself imagine it. I wasn't so sure Drake was the marrying type, despite his claim that he never wanted us to be parted again.
I knew he was the collaring type after his gift on New Year's Eve. I fingered it on my neck, playing with the single teardrop diamond pendant. I was starting to wonder if Drake was the commitment type. But I suspected that he was so sour on marriage that it was out of the question. Honestly, at that point, I didn't know how I felt, except I was in love with Drake and wanted to be with him more than anything, whatever that meant.
Still, I was curious about his apartment in Chelsea. He'd never taken me there and I longed to see Drake when he was just himself – neurosurgeon, bass player, philanthropist. So, a few nights after our meal at the Russian Tea Room, as we drove through the streets of Manhattan after a trip to my apartment to pick up an extra charger for my laptop that I'd forgotten to pack. I was feeling a bit adventurous so I took a chance. He was going to drop me off at 8th Avenue and then after a brief run to the hospital to check in on the last of his surgical patients, he would join me there and we'd do our scene.
"Will you take me to your apartment in Chelsea instead?"