Unrestrained (Unrestrained 3)

"Very good," Jomo said, nodding as if he understood my meaning.

Jomo dropped me off at the house and I shivered as I entered the cool interior, but it was in part the result of my adrenaline rush wearing off.

I walked through the rooms, touching the furniture, stopping to look at the boxes, which still had to be unpacked, trying to distract myself from the fact – the unmistakable fact – that not only had Drake had sex with me in the public room, but Sefton had watched.

I went to my studio, found some tape and put my drawings on the wall, deliberately pushing that knowledge out of my mind. I spent the rest of the day putting away kitchenware and bathroom supplies, before sitting and searching through a few boxes of my art supplies that I'd packed up and sent over. Acrylics, brushes, paint pallets, and other materials. My cell buzzed around five thirty and I took it out of my bag and checked, hoping it was Drake.

It was Claire.

Hello, Kate. There's an artist safari coming up and I've been able to convince the guides to let us join it even though it's late. It's the weekend that the boys are on call, but this is the only art safari for the next few months. I'd like to book us a few spots now, if that's OK with you. What do you say the two of us go? It will be a grand time.

I texted her back.

I'd love to go. It sounds like fun. It's too bad the 'boys' are on call that weekend but maybe we can all go on a regular safari soon.

She texted back that yes, it was too bad that they were scheduled to be on call. I paused before responding. It was lucky that she knew some of the guides or else we would be out of luck for the safaris are booked months in advance. Since Drake and I had already spoken about the art safari, I replied and agreed that she should reserve our spots.

Drake sent me a text before dinner, saying he hoped to be home a bit early as the hospital was pretty quiet and their surgeries were all finished and the patients were out of recovery. I was pleased. We might get to eat dinner together.

I'm on my way now. Have a shower and wait for me. After we eat dinner, I want to eat you.

I smiled to myself. Drake always started working me up even before he got home. I texted him back.

Do you want me to wear something special? Do something special?

I saw the indication that he was typing a reply and waited, chewing a nail, smiling. He typed for quite a while, but finally, the text message arrived.

Now that you mention it, I want you to be my slave-girl tonight. I know we're not 24/7 but for tonight, we can pretend that we are. I want you wearing your nylons and garters, but no panties. I want you to wear that sexy little flowered sundress. I want you to have your hair up and your collar – your thick leather collar – on. Be waiting by the sofa on your knees, like a good slave, your eyes downcast. I want dinner ready in the oven, so you can serve me. I bought some flavored vodka at the Junction and picked up some really soft rope that I plan

on using to tie you up. And then, I'm going to ravish you, Katherine…

That sent a thrill through my body, heating my cheeks. I had a quick shower and dressed as he instructed, and spent the next half hour thinking about him, as my body responded to the thought that he'd planned a scene. I wondered what he'd want to do. It didn’t matter – whatever he wanted would be wonderful, but I was curious. His words about how he would treat me if I had been an ordinary sub, with me down on my knees frequently, were arousing. I wished he'd push a bit more for my obedience during sex. I liked Drake in Dom mode. I felt so secure, so uninhibited.

After I prepared myself for Drake, I made my way to the kitchen and slipped some fresh shrimp into the oven, drizzled with lemon juice, olive oil, fresh grated garlic and salt and pepper. It would be ready very quickly once I turned on the broiler, and there was a fresh salad in the fridge. A loaf of artisan bread sat on the breadboard. There was chilled white wine in the wine cooler.

I followed Drake's instructions, like an obedient 'slave-girl', and I was ready for him. Now all I had to do was wait for him to get home.

CHAPTER TEN

In about fifteen minutes, my cell phone chimed, and I checked. It was Drake.

Katherine, I'm on my way home. I just went through the guardhouse. Be waiting for me. Be ready for me. I'm more than ready for you…

I smiled to myself and texted him back.

I'm very ready for you, Sir.

I smiled, my body already responding. I wanted to feel his power and his dominance tonight. It would help me forget Sefton and the fact I had to tell Drake that Sefton had, in fact, seen us at the dungeon.

I knelt by the sofa the way he directed in his text and waited, my head down. I closed my eyes and tried to focus properly, so that I was serious and not grinning like an idiot when he arrived. I did not want to spoil the mood he was trying to create. Instead, I thought about the letters he wrote to his novice subs and how much they had excited me when I read them what seemed like ages ago, but was really only six months earlier.

Only six months?

He entered the house and I heard him shuck off his shoes and throw his jacket over the back of the chair, as he did every day when he arrived home. I kept my head bowed and my eyes closed, waiting for him to come to me and instruct me on what he wanted. I heard him unscrew a bottle top, the metal rasp familiar – he said he'd picked up some flavored vodka – did he find some Anisovaya in Nairobi?

Footsteps on the hardwood between the kitchen and living room, and then the soft pad of his feet on the carpet came next. I knew he was standing in front of me for I could smell him – his cologne, a hint of that indescribable maleness.

He took my chin in his hand and tilted my head up. I kept my eyes closed, and waited. He seemed to examine my face for a moment and then he kissed me, his kiss warm. When he slipped his tongue between my lips, I tasted something slightly tangy – vodka with green apple flavor – that must have been the flavored vodka he bought at the Exchange Mall on his way home.