Read Online Plaything: Volume Two by Jason Luke, Jade West - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jason Luke, Jade West
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you ok? Sore? Hungry? Cold?”
I shook my head. “Only tired.”
He raised himself from the mattress. “I’ll leave you to sleep, you did well today.”
I grabbed his wrist before he could retreat. “Please,” I begged. “Please, stay.”
“That’s what you want?” I couldn’t read his eyes, but they weren’t cold.
“Please,” I repeated. “That’s what I want.”
Relief washed over me as he pressed his body up against mine. He reached around for my wrists and soothed the cuff marks with his fingers, and in a heartbeat I’d twisted to face him, my cheek to his collarbone and my legs entwined around his.
He didn’t make any attempt to move me until morning.
* * *
Chapter Five
Robert
I am a man of focussed purpose, and for me time is a priceless commodity. As I lay through the night with Amy’s arm flung over my chest and one of her legs across my thigh, I wedged a fist under my head and stared up at the ceiling. I was overcome with a melancholy of nostalgia – my mind running through a minefield of life alternatives and bitter regrets.
I was here against my will, training a woman I would never see again once my task was completed. Time was wasting, but, more than that, I could feel emotional bonds forming between myself and Amy – and they were a greater peril than even the precious days I was away from my world.
Emotional involvement with a submissive was always a hazard in a situation such as this: two people thrust together and forced to work under impossible pressure. Diamonds were formed like that – but so was dust.
Amy was becoming fond of me, and I was becoming fond of her.
It had to stop.
Each intimate moment we shared, each time we went beyond the borders of physical sex and training was like an old ship in the water accumulating barnacles. And I was an old ship. Emotional attachment would slow me down, hinder me in moments when I needed to be sharp and incisive. I didn’t want to walk away from this week with a sense of heartbreak or despair for what might have been possible with this woman. Ultimately, that kind of attachment would cost me time and money and freedom.
And it would cost Amy more.
Every moment we were together deepended the sense of her dependency on me. Beyond the cold veneer of the Master, she had seen glimpses of my soul. Like a dense forest canopy of leaves, the sunlight that was her personality had filtered shafts of light and shone them onto dark secret feelings that had not been exposed to the light of day for years.
I moved restlessly on the bed, suddenly feeling a strangulated sense of claustrophobia. Amy made a soft murmuring sound, then nuzzled her cheek against my chest. I moved again and she rolled away in a tangle of sheets.
The night dragged on and sleep came to me fitfully, filled with doubts and demons.
When dawn came I rolled onto my side and stared across the small space of the bed that separated us. Amy was curled up into a ball, her knees tucked close to her chest and the sheet cast aside so that she was naked. The watery light of sunrise painted the smooth skin of her body a golden brown and darkened the shadows. It touched the curve of her hip with light and left her face in silhouette, it trickled across the edge of one breast to highlight the milky white flawlesness of her skin, and shaded the flat of her abdomen and the tops of her thighs. She was breathing softly, and her hair was a tangled fan across the pillow and her shoulders. I reached out and drew the soft touch of my fingertip along the skin of her forearm and the rhythm of her breathing changed. She moistened her lips and then her eyes fluttered open, milky for an instant before coming into focus. She brushed the hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand and her face crinckled into a roguish smile.
“Good morning,” she breathed and widened her eyes, as if seeing me for the first time. Then she arched her back and stretched in a slow and voluptuous
I shook my head. “Only tired.”
He raised himself from the mattress. “I’ll leave you to sleep, you did well today.”
I grabbed his wrist before he could retreat. “Please,” I begged. “Please, stay.”
“That’s what you want?” I couldn’t read his eyes, but they weren’t cold.
“Please,” I repeated. “That’s what I want.”
Relief washed over me as he pressed his body up against mine. He reached around for my wrists and soothed the cuff marks with his fingers, and in a heartbeat I’d twisted to face him, my cheek to his collarbone and my legs entwined around his.
He didn’t make any attempt to move me until morning.
* * *
Chapter Five
Robert
I am a man of focussed purpose, and for me time is a priceless commodity. As I lay through the night with Amy’s arm flung over my chest and one of her legs across my thigh, I wedged a fist under my head and stared up at the ceiling. I was overcome with a melancholy of nostalgia – my mind running through a minefield of life alternatives and bitter regrets.
I was here against my will, training a woman I would never see again once my task was completed. Time was wasting, but, more than that, I could feel emotional bonds forming between myself and Amy – and they were a greater peril than even the precious days I was away from my world.
Emotional involvement with a submissive was always a hazard in a situation such as this: two people thrust together and forced to work under impossible pressure. Diamonds were formed like that – but so was dust.
Amy was becoming fond of me, and I was becoming fond of her.
It had to stop.
Each intimate moment we shared, each time we went beyond the borders of physical sex and training was like an old ship in the water accumulating barnacles. And I was an old ship. Emotional attachment would slow me down, hinder me in moments when I needed to be sharp and incisive. I didn’t want to walk away from this week with a sense of heartbreak or despair for what might have been possible with this woman. Ultimately, that kind of attachment would cost me time and money and freedom.
And it would cost Amy more.
Every moment we were together deepended the sense of her dependency on me. Beyond the cold veneer of the Master, she had seen glimpses of my soul. Like a dense forest canopy of leaves, the sunlight that was her personality had filtered shafts of light and shone them onto dark secret feelings that had not been exposed to the light of day for years.
I moved restlessly on the bed, suddenly feeling a strangulated sense of claustrophobia. Amy made a soft murmuring sound, then nuzzled her cheek against my chest. I moved again and she rolled away in a tangle of sheets.
The night dragged on and sleep came to me fitfully, filled with doubts and demons.
When dawn came I rolled onto my side and stared across the small space of the bed that separated us. Amy was curled up into a ball, her knees tucked close to her chest and the sheet cast aside so that she was naked. The watery light of sunrise painted the smooth skin of her body a golden brown and darkened the shadows. It touched the curve of her hip with light and left her face in silhouette, it trickled across the edge of one breast to highlight the milky white flawlesness of her skin, and shaded the flat of her abdomen and the tops of her thighs. She was breathing softly, and her hair was a tangled fan across the pillow and her shoulders. I reached out and drew the soft touch of my fingertip along the skin of her forearm and the rhythm of her breathing changed. She moistened her lips and then her eyes fluttered open, milky for an instant before coming into focus. She brushed the hair away from her eyes with the back of her hand and her face crinckled into a roguish smile.
“Good morning,” she breathed and widened her eyes, as if seeing me for the first time. Then she arched her back and stretched in a slow and voluptuous
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