“You kneeling at my feet, so sweetly, as you wash them . . . it’s quite beautiful, Serena. You are beautiful.”

She ducked her head, suddenly shy and self-conscious. She finished his feet and then worked her way back up to his groin. His cock bobbed in front of her, and when she would have stood, she remembered how pleased he’d looked when she went to her knees. And so she merely hoisted herself higher on her knees so that his cock was eye-level and she closed her hands around it.

It was hot against her skin, hotter than the water cascading over them both. It pulsed slightly against her palm as she rubbed back and forth. When she reached the base, she slid her fingers beyond to his sac. His balls rolled against her palm, and she marveled at the softness of the skin, the pliability, and how swollen they were as his cock jutted outward above them.

She wanted to take him in her mouth again and pleasure him. A light tap to her cheek made her blink and look upward. Was she so transparent?

“Use only your hands this time,” he said in a raspy voice.

He reached up to direct the nozzle away from them and then guided her hand back to his straining erection.

She worked back and forth, moving the foreskin as far up the bulbous head as she could before pulling it away, revealing the smooth top again.

“Harder,” he urged.

She readily complied, tightening her grip and moving more rapidly.

Then suddenly, he yanked himself from her grasp. With one hand, he shoved her arms down while he jerked at his cock with the other. She gasped when the first hot jet exploded onto her chest.

He continued to pull as he leaned closer to direct his cum onto her breasts. Some landed at the hollow of her throat and slid downward, slithering between her breasts and down to her navel.

One thick rope traveled to the tip of her breast, coated the rigid nipple and dangled precariously before dripping to the shower floor.

Damon pulled upward on his cock and leaned farther in, pushing at her mouth. “Open,” he said hoarsely.

She complied, and he slid in with ease. His cum coated the head of his penis, and as he pumped deep into her mouth, she swallowed away the last of it.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Clean me, Serena mine.”

For several long seconds he rocked up on his toes, rhythmically fucking her mouth as his cock continued to soften. Finally, he pulled away and reached for her hand to help her up.

With an arrogant look of satisfaction he gazed at the trail of cum covering her chest.

“Bathe yourself with it,” he murmured. “Rub me all over your body and know that you are mine.”

Hesitantly, she raised her hands and then looked down at the sticky cream on her breasts and down her belly. She put one hand to her skin first and cautiously rubbed in a tight circle.

Damon’s breath hitched and his cock bobbed upward, already recovering from his orgasm.

With growing confidence, she placed her other hand to her wet breast and began massaging the fluid over her skin. She swayed sensuously as she rubbed and caressed.

Her body was hypersensitive to her every touch. He’d driven her so close to her release just by attaining his own. He hadn’t touched her to bring her to orgasm in any way, but yet she verged on the brink. Hovering. Aching. So close. So very close. If she could just get her hands lower . . .

Strong hands gripped her wrists, and he pulled her hands away from her skin. Without a word, he directed the water so that it poured over her body, and he began to rinse the conditioner from her hair.

Again, with no attempt to arouse, he washed her until her hair was clean and the remnants of his orgasm were gone from her skin.

“Stay here,” he said as he turned the water off and stepped from the shower.

She watched as he quickly dried his naked body. He wiped the last of the moisture from his skin and then gave his hair a quick tussle before tossing the towel aside and picking up another.

He reached in to take her hand and drew her out of the shower. He started with her hair, squeezing the excess water from the strands. Then he worked down, patting her skin with the soft towel.

When he was finished, he dropped the towel and pulled her against the warmth of his body. He cradled her perfectly. They meshed so well, her softness conforming to his harder planes.

He just stood there, his heart beating softly against her throat. His hands smoothed deliciously over her back and down to her buttocks before traveling up her arms. His right hand came to rest at the cuff she wore on her left arm, and he stroked it for a moment, as if pleased by the ornament she wore. For him.

“Come, it’s time to feed you and put you to bed.”

She bristled the slightest bit because he made her sound like a pet or even a child. But as his hands moved sensuously over her shoulders as he turned her in the direction of the bedroom, those thoughts, and her irritation, fled.

To her relief, the tray of food was already delivered and sitting on a table by the bed, which meant she didn’t have to face any hired help in the nude. The sheets and covers had been pulled back and the pillows repositioned at the head of the bed.

Damon, it seemed, did indeed like his creature comforts.

He gestured for her to climb onto the bed, and it was only after she crawled onto the plush mattress that she saw the rope and satin cuffs secured to the bedpost on her side of the bed.

She glanced back uncertainly at Damon, but his expression didn’t change. He expected obedience, and his stance didn’t offer any alternative.

He waited until she turned around and settled against the pillows before he reached for her left hand. She watched in shocked fascination as he pulled the rope with the cuff from the bedpost and secured the cuff around her wrist. Silently, he captured her other hand and brought it around to the small of her back where he secured it with the other cuff so that her hands were bound together behind her.

She wasn’t even going to ask the obvious question of how the hell she was going to eat, because after his speech and countless reminders of how he would take care of her every need, she had a suspicion of just how she was going to consume her food.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked as he stood by the bed.

She nodded. And she was. The bed was wonderfully soft. Not too soft, though. It molded to her body, contouring perfectly as it cradled her. It would be heaven to sleep on.

Satisfied with her response, he walked around to the other side where the dinner tray sat, and he sat on the bed beside her. After spending a few moments preparing a plate from the dishes arranged on the cart, he then scooted back against the pillows and sat cross-legged, the plate resting on his lap.

It smelled wonderful.

There was roasted chicken with scalloped potatoes and a decadent looking chocolate dessert waiting on the side.

Damon cut into the chicken, arranging bite-sized portions on the plate. When he was finished, he forked one of the pieces and held it to her lips.

For a moment she simply stared at him, wondering why she didn’t feel ill at ease at what he proposed to do. He waited, patiently, the chicken resting lightly on her bottom lip. Finally she opened her mouth, and he carefully slid the fork inside.

How strange that he could make the act of feeding her, as though she were helpless, so intimate and loving. There was such tenderness to his actions, such regard for her, that she couldn’t muster any discomfort over him feeding her while she sat there, bound and naked, in his bed.

Even more curious was the way he made her crave his attention. As soon as he gave her one bite, she hungered for another, not because of the food but because of his regard.

He alternated feeding her with taking his own part of the meal. She watched the bites slide into his mouth, watched his lips run over the tines of the fork that her mouth had touched. His warmth still lingered on the metal when he next placed it in her mouth.

When it slid from her lips, clean, he trailed it gently down her chin, down the column of her neck and to her chest. The tines were lightly abrasive, scratching along her skin, eliciting a shiver in their wake.

He topped the rise of her breast and ever so lightly skimmed the tip over her nipple. Her shoulders shook, making her breasts bob, which rubbed her nipple rapidly across the fork.

When he pulled it away, her breaths were coming in shallow bursts. How much more teasing could she take before the need for her orgasm drove her to insanity? She ached. Her pussy ached. Her breasts strained, so tight and sensitive that each brush across them was agonizing.

He returned to his plate, carefully picking at the remainder of the food. He fed her three more bites before pushing the cart away from the bed.

When he rolled back over to face her, he reached behind her back to free her hands. But before she could pull them in front of her, he merely repositioned her arms over her head and refastened the cuffs around her wrists.

“Find a comfortable position,” he directed.

As best as she could, she shimmied down until she was lying on her back, her head nestled among the pillows. He tested her bonds and instructed her to roll right and then left. Satisfied that she could move freely, he pulled away and ran his hand freely down her body.

He rested on his side next to her, his head propped in his palm as he regarded her with contented eyes.

“Before we go to sleep, I thought I should acquaint you with more of my expectations so that you aren’t taken by surprise,” he said.