The Chase

“I know, Sir.” Her voice went up a pleading octave.

“Do you actually think you’ve earned an orgasm?”

Heavenly paused, and he could almost feel her trying to work out the right answer. He grinned, knowing damn well there wasn’t one.

“No, Sir.”

The distress in her voice did his Dominant heart good. “No.”

But he didn’t release her or tell her to stand, just gave her pussy a thorough, leisurely rubbing until her breathing roughened, until she gripped her ankles hard, until her whole body flushed.

Then slowly, he pulled his hand free. “Stand. Come with me.”

“N-now?”

He sent her a disapproving scowl. “You do not want to question me.”

“No, Sir. I don’t.” She fell in beside him.

Seth guided her to the stairs. Despite the fact they were plenty wide to accommodate them side by side, he gestured her to ascend in front of him.

He sighed. God, she had a great ass.

At the top, she looked to him for direction. With a silent bob of his head, he motioned her into their bedroom, then continued to the closet where his suitcase was still half-unpacked, driving him slightly batshit.

“Unpack that for me. I’ll supervise.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “And, girl? I’m very particular about my clothes.”

She dragged her stare across the precise row of his clothes hanging along one wall. “Yes, Sir. Socks first?”

Did she think she couldn’t screw those up? Seth smiled. “That’s acceptable.”

Heavenly retrieved the remaining three pairs of clean socks he’d packed but never worn. Seth watched intently, enjoying the hell out of her profile—the way her long lashes fluttered, the clingy fabric molded to her taut nipples and cupped beneath her plump breasts, the nip of her waist over her flared hips, and the ruffle brushing the damp curls shielding her pussy and slowly leaving a wet stain along her “apron.”

She opened the drawer, paused, then turned back to him. “Black socks with black? Brown with brown?”

“Of course.”

With a little nod, she went back to her task, putting each in an available slot of his organizer within the appropriate color family.

Too bad for her she’d still done it wrong.

“Where’s your attention to detail?” he tsked at her.

“I’m sorry, Sir?”

“The black socks were plain. You put them among the patterned.”

“My apologies, Sir.” She batted her lashes and tried not to giggle. “I’ll try again.”

“Don’t bother.” He pretended exasperation. “I think you’ve done enough.”

And being totally honest, he’d rather put his own socks away. They really did have an order.

She turned, almost convincing him she was crestfallen by her failure. “Sir?”

“Now I’ll have to rearrange my sock drawer. Rework disappoints me. You’ll need to find some other way to please me.”

“Of course, Sir.” She met his gaze, blue eyes dark and heated. “Shall I get on my knees again?”