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“I don’t want you talking to them,” he says from behind me.
“But—”
“You are my Prince,” he growls as he closes his hand around my throat and caresses the gold chain hanging there. The one he gave me on our first anniversary.
The one that signifies to everyone that I am owned.
That I belong to someone.
The collar is perfect; the chain links are encrusted with small diamonds, and a tiny lock keeps it chained at the clasp. Jon has the key embedded in his wedding ring; he kept it hidden before, but now he always has it on his person.
His warm breath flows over my ear, and I lean back against him. His body is warm, hard, and I can feel his heart beating strong and angry against my back.
Being claimed by Sir is always exhilarating. And tonight, he has an edge. He’ll want to mark me. Claim me. Own me.
“Only yours, Sir. Always.”
“Take off your clothes. I only want to see my ownership on your body.”
My heart jumps at the thrill of doing what my Sir wants. I would do anything for him, and turning, I see his face is still tense, his anger simmering under the surface. My submission is what he needs now to ground himself.
My submission and acceptance of his will, of his brand of love.
I stride towards the bed and slowly remove my clothes in layers. Giving him time to get his emotions under control but still following his command.
When I’m only wearing my wedding band and his golden collar, I turn and find him looking out the window, his shoulders still tensed. I know not to approach him now, and instead make my way to the small dark wood dining table. Carefully removing the table runner and glass bowl filled with fruit, I place them on the coffee table before lying down. I close my eyes, breathe deeply, and wait, offering myself to him.
* * *
JON
I wish I wasn’t this truculent. I have a quick temper. I always have, but I thought I had gotten over being this aggressive. But hearing another dominant call David prince, made me see red and want to fuck him in front of her to show her who he belonged to. I had already stated that he’s my husband, for fuck’s sake, but still, she persisted.
She was sizing me up. Fucking Domina. Now here I am, trying to regain control of my temper so I don’t hurt my Prince.
I know he is ready for me. I heard him moving things from the table and lying down. I should have been the one preparing the scene for him, not the other way around.
Maybe she had reason to size me up?
No. I won’t go down that dark tunnel in my head again.
David is mine, and I am his.
Forever.
I feel the warm metal around my ring finger, and it centres me.
I am going to claim what is mine. I will show David that I am worthy of his love, devotion, and his future. There is no way an Italian Domme will steal him from me.
Resolute, I strip my shirt and step out of my shoes. I keep my jeans on but release my belt, and as the leather slips through the air, I hear David inhaling before breathing out slowly. His gaze is on my hands, holding the belt aloft. His eyes are glazed in lust. I know what he needs. My dominance. My love.
“Would you like my leather on you, my Prince?” My voice is thick and gravelly with my own passion for the man laid bare and vulnerable before me.
“Yes, Sir,” he replies dutifully, and my cock throbs in the confines of my pants.
I am only as strong and dominant as my Prince allows me. I would never do anything that he wouldn’t want. Nothing that wouldn’t bring him pleasure. Picking up a pillow from the settee, I lift his head and place it under him on the table. I’m standing at his head and looking down the table at his exquisite body.
He’s delicate, yet strong enough to take a hard pounding. His frame is lean and defined but still soft to the touch. His skin is smooth and blemish-free, and apart from his perfectly beautiful boyish face, my favourite part of his body is his small cock.
