ZANDER
Each client of The Firm will receive regular evaluations to determine whether progress has been made toward their individualized care goals.
Ella’s hair is wet from the shower when I arrive for the night. I catch the scent of her shampoo the second I walk in the door, and it’s all I can do to listen to Damon as he recaps the day. He said it was a lighthearted day but those days worry him. After the highs come the dips, and oftentimes they can feel like falling back when they’re only natural.
Harrison once described it to me as a spiral staircase built against a wall. Even though we climb higher and higher, we still hit the wall. We must. It has to occur to move onward.
Making a mental note, I debate on whether or not I should carry through with my plan for tonight.
“Should I aim for an uneventful, quiet night then?”
Damon’s head shakes. “Take her lead. If she wants another long conversation, I wouldn’t avoid that. It may be necessary. You good?” he asks.
Nodding in agreement that it may be necessary, I continue the movement with my answer, “I’m good.”
I send him on his way and find Ella at the archway to the kitchen. I’m not sure where she was before, but she’s here now. “Hi,” she says softly. The cadence of her voice and the shyness in her posture already have me rock fucking hard.
There is something about a strong-willed woman’s submission that is utterly addictive.
“My little bird,” I murmur and each word is practically a hum from deep in my chest. I purposefully make the satisfaction audible and I’m rewarded with a slight blush that rises from her chest up to her cheeks.
“We’ll start tonight with a scene.”
Ella stares at me, her large dark eyes sparking with desire. She nods, and I know she feels what I feel right now. Pent-up need. It’s been a long twelve hours without her.
And I am desperate. Combine that with exposed skin revealed by the pale pink silk robe she dons that hugs the small of her waist and cuts off mid-thigh … fuck me.
Now that I’ve had my fingers in her sweet, tight cunt, it’s practically all I can think about. I can and will keep more than one thing in mind at once. Like her safety. Like her progress. Like the way her body moves as we go to the sitting room. But damn does the thought of her enjoying my touch like she did, getting her off and rewarding her occupy every quiet moment.
She takes her seat across from me, perched and waiting for demands like the eager sub she is, and I adjust the lighting in the room. One lamp, turned down as low as it will go. The flames in the grate licking at the crystals in the fireplace. It’s intimate, the way I like.
I take my seat. “Stand.”
Ella does so without hesitation, getting to her feet in a graceful motion that I want to follow with my hands. The desperation I felt walking in is already waning. It’s a combination of the low lighting and the fact that when she obeys me for the first time, we are in the scene, I am in control, and this is right.
It feels right. A 24/7 power exchange is already difficult when there are large gaps of time between scenes. Add in the other men and their own power over her for necessary reasons … every time I walk away there’s a prick of nervousness that they won’t care for her like they should and that our efforts will be lost. So as much as I’d like, this arrangement is not perfect.
“What are you wearing under your robe?”
“Only panties.”
“Take them off.” My command, evenly and calmly spoken, is given with my palm up.
Again she obeys, approaching my seat with careful steps and placing them into my outstretched hand. When this is over, she can have them back. Her dark eyes are luminous in the firelight, and she’s so close that I can scent her. Fuck, she smells good. Everything about her is intoxicating. It’s a combination of her light, floral shampoo and her skin beneath that.
“You can sit down now.”
Only a mild hesitation—a fraction of a second before she turns and walks back to her seat. My cock strains against the front of my pants. I ignore it. It’s more difficult to dismiss when I’m not with her.
“Good girl.” My approval brings back the simper she wore moments ago. “There are things we need to discuss tonight. For this, I’ll allow you to speak freely. Understood?”
Ella nods, and I imagine it’s because she’s conserving her voice, the way she always does. “How is your throat today?”
“Better,” she answers confidently.
“Good.”
She folds her hands demurely in her lap, resting them on the silk fabric of her robe. Her knees are kept firmly pressed together. I could make her spread them, but I don’t.