Brie Pleases her New Master (After Graduation, #1) (3 page)

As if he knew her thoughts, he added, “Everything I do has a purpose, a simple lesson for you to learn. What was the lesson of the window?”

She swallowed hard before replying, “Even my orgasms answer to you.”

“Good.” Sir found her lips with his fingers, leaned over her and kissed Brie on the lips. “Now I will teach you another.”

Brie felt him cup her buttocks in his strong hands. Sir gently pushed her up the angled back of the chair as he climbed between her legs. “Tuck in your legs, téa.”

As soon as she did, the smooth head of his shaft rested against her sex.

Still cradling her ass, he pressed his cock into her. Gravity helped the depth of his penetration as he lowered her down onto his shaft. “The beauty of the Tantra chair is that it allows for the perfect angle,” he murmured, his cock nestling deep inside her.

“Sir…” she gasped as he began rolling his pelvis, using his hands to support her. Brie slid up and down the back of the chair effortlessly as he thrust his shaft into her, hitting the perfect spot with each stroke.

He sought out her lips again, the kisses tender. When he broke away his warm breath caressed her ear. “I shall make love to you now.” His lips returned to her mouth. Both his tongue and his cock expressed his deep passion for her.

Sir’s lovemaking was an ethereal experience. Brie soaked in the emotional wave of it even as her body responded to his skill and expertise. She prayed it would never end. “I love you, Sir, with all my heart.”

Instead of giving a verbal response, he surprised her by leaning over the side of the chair to pick up something from the floor. “Give me your left wrist.”

Brie lifted it to him and felt Sir’s hand trail up her arm to her wrist. He joined them together with a soft cord without the aid of light and announced, “We are bound together as one.” His warm lips pressed against the binding before he lifted their hands over her head, holding her firm. He kissed her deeply then, thrusting with slow, fluid movements.

Brie was overcome by the profound gesture and opened herself completely to her Master, holding nothing back as he claimed her heart. He made love to her tenderly while he held her captive. It was the best of all worlds and for the first time she felt utterly…complete.

Sir growled in her ear just before his cock swelled and the powerful surges began, filling her body and soul with his masculine essence. She responded with a gentle orgasm of her own. It was like sweet ambrosia.

Sir slipped his free hand under the small of her back and pressed her to him possessively afterwards. They lay there in the dark; the only sound was their labored breathing. She matched hers to his and reveled in the added connection. Alone, bound together, skin against skin… Held in his tight embrace, Brie knew with confidence she would never love another as deeply as Sir—his claiming was complete.

Misguided Service

Brie woke up before daybreak to the sound of Sir’s relaxed breathing beside her. She was tempted to pinch herself. Here she was, sleeping next to Sir, in
his
bed. Brie lay in the dark, drinking in the moment.

When he rolled over, she quietly slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She was determined to make him the best damn omelet known to man. She shivered as she tiptoed through his dark apartment, the chill of the marble freezing her toes.

When Brie reached the kitchen, she flicked on the light in the hallway and glanced over at the red lounger, a smile playing across her lips. Last night, Sir had taught her that he commanded not only her body, but also her heart. She sighed happily and scanned the panoramic view of the city. Considerably fewer lights than before twinkled below as LA prepared for the beginning of a new day. She caught a glimpse of Sir’s white shirt on the floor beside the couch. Brie walked over and picked it up, crushing it to her chest to drink in his smell.

Brie purred, loving the sexy feel of his shirt wrapped around her naked frame as she buttoned it up. The shirt hung down, barely covering her ass. Its thin material provided little protection from the cold, but the knowledge it was Sir’s warmed her immensely.

She returned to the stylish kitchen to assemble the ingredients. His kitchen was clean and artfully decorated, like the rest of his house. Black granite countertops, stainless steel appliances and recessed lighting made it look like it belonged in a magazine. It was a bit intimidating, but Brie refused to be deterred.

She was delighted to see there was a whole carton of eggs. Plenty to make a mistake or two… She then searched through the fridge to gather the rest of the ingredients. Brie set them out before her and replayed the recipe in her mind, going over each step. She found an appropriate pan, bowl, and whisk, making only the tiniest of noises, being extra careful not to wake Sir. She sat down at his small, round kitchen table and waited for Master to wake up. Unfortunately, she was feeling too anxious to sit for long.

Brie decided it would be wise to do a quick run-through first. She cracked the eggs and separated them like a pro. She got the pan heating while she whipped up the egg whites. In no time, she had a fluffy, expertly cooked omelet sitting on a plate.
Wouldn’t Marquis be proud?

She felt kinda sad when she tossed it into the trash, but focused her energy on cutting up the veggies and shredding the cheese for the real omelet. As she was dicing up the ham, she heard movement behind her.

“Continue,” Sir said as he settled down at the kitchen table to watch. She noticed he wore only boxers.
Oh, my God—he looks hot.
Naked, dressed, or in boxers, it didn’t matter—the man was a stunning example of masculinity.

Brie’s heart began to race. It was one thing to cook without an audience, but to have Sir watch her… She took a few deep breaths before beginning. She cracked the eggs and groaned silently.
A shell!
She poured them into the sink and started again. This time she succeeded and quietly cheered. She turned on the burner and proceeded to whip and fold the egg mixture, sneaking glances at Sir while she worked. He remained stoic, but Brie swore she saw a slight smirk.

No matter.
This morning she would prove to him that she could cook—omelets, at least. She poured the eggs onto the bubbling butter in the pan and turned to Sir. “What would you like in your omelet, Sir?”

“Put in whatever you assume I’d like.”

She nodded. His odd answer made her feel a bit anxious over her choice, but she went ahead and sprinkled in a little chive, ham and sharp cheddar cheese. She swirled it around, noticing that the cheese was burning on the sides of the pan.
Crap, I’m supposed to wait to add cheese!

Her nerves hit and she froze. It was ruined. She hesitated before tossing it in the trash so she could start again. Sir said nothing.

Brie began the process again. She almost burnt the butter, but saved it in the nick of time. She added the proper ingredients and mixed it up before putting it down to wait for it to set. Everything looked good; this would be a perfect omelet. She could just see the proud gleam in Sir’s eyes when he tasted it.

She went to pick up the pan to swirl it, not noticing that Sir was behind her until he grabbed her wrist and turned her around. He lifted her onto the cold granite counter and began unbuttoning the shirt.

Brie glanced over at the eggs nervously. They would be ruined if she didn’t get them off the stove now, but Sir was slow and deliberate as he unfastened the last button and slowly slid his shirt off her shoulders.

He kissed her on the collarbone and then slowly made a trail down between her breasts. The whole time, Brie stared anxiously at the eggs, but she quickly returned her attention to him when he looked up. Sir gave her a mischievous smile and kissed her on the lips.

When he pulled away, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Sir, the eggs…”

He lifted her chin up and kissed her again, as if he hadn’t heard. The unpleasant smell of burnt egg began to swirl around her nostrils. Her perfect omelet was ruined.

Without breaking the kiss, Sir pushed the pan off the burner and turned it off. Then he pulled away from her, wearing a serious expression. He lifted Brie off the counter, removing the shirt completely before asking her to sit.

Brie didn’t know what was happening, but it was obvious she had failed somehow.

Sir sat across the table from her and stared at Brie for several moments before speaking. “Do you know what you did wrong, téa?”

She blushed and whispered, “I burnt your eggs, Sir.”

“No.”

Brie looked up at him, now suddenly far more alarmed. “Sir, did I pick the wrong ingredients?”

He shook his head once. “No. Apparently, you are unaware that you have made three grievous errors this morning.”

Her lips trembled.
How?
What could she have done wrong when all she’d wanted to do was impress him?

“Shall I explain?” he asked.

Brie looked down at the glass tabletop to avoid his disappointed stare. “Please, Sir.”

“Look at me.”

She forced herself to look up and meet his solemn gaze.

“First, you left my bed without permission. A grave error on your part that shall not happen again. Second, you disobeyed a direct order.”

She shook her head in disagreement. “No, Sir, I would never—”

He looked at her sternly. “Last night I told you that you were only to wear the collar.”

She opened her mouth to protest but then nodded, realizing that he had. “Yes, you did, Sir.” She looked down at her feet, completely mortified. “I am sorry, Sir. I deserve to be punished.”

“Why did you disobey me?”

“I assumed it was a command only meant for the moment.” She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. Once Brie had regained her composure, she added, “I never meant to disobey you, Sir. Please know that.”

“I accept your apology. See that it does not happen again.”

“Never, Sir.”

“Never is a long time, my little sub. Do not be quick to use such words.”

She looked at the table again, crushed to be failing so badly on her first morning with him. A glutton for punishment, she asked, “How did I fail you the third way, Sir?”

“You did not ask what I wanted for breakfast, or if I wanted breakfast at all.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, but she quickly straightened them, not wanting to offend him further. “I was foolish not to ask, Sir.”

“There is something you should know.”

She looked up at him sheepishly. “What, Sir?”

“I hate eggs.”

Her jaw dropped and she squeaked, “You do?” How could it be that her Master hated the only thing she knew how to cook well?

Sir crinkled his nose. “The smell makes me nauseous and now my whole apartment reeks.”

She sat in stunned silence, feeling sick to her stomach.

“Do not fret, téa. I only punish willful disobedience. Today I was curious what you would do. In your eagerness to please, you forgot your training.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes. You’re right, Sir.”

“Of course I am,” he answered.

She snuck a peek and was relieved to see his expression was relaxed, not angry. When he motioned Brie to his lap, she literally jumped up and ran to him. He gathered her into his arms, and chuckled. “When Marquis told me the only things he was able to teach you to cook were an omelet and spaghetti, I had to laugh.”

“Don’t tell me you hate spaghetti, too?” she whimpered.

“I am not a fan of tomatoes.”

“Oh…” she said dejectedly. Brie rested her chin on his strong shoulder and sighed. “You are going to starve because of my cooking.”

His answer was quick. “No. Unlike you, I know how to cook.”

She gasped, but noted the glint in his eye. “I’d say that is below the belt, Sir.”

“It’s the ugly truth.”

Brie grabbed her stomach and grunted loudly. “It hurts, it hurts…”

Sir swatted her bottom. “You are fortunate I do not eat breakfast. Thankfully, that is one less meal you can ruin.”

She basked in Sir’s playful mood and traced his masculine jaw before kissing him. “Thank you, Sir, for hating breakfast. Is there any way I can make up for my lack of culinary talent?”

He furrowed his brow, stating, “No. There is nothing you can do to make up for your atrocious cooking skills.”

She pouted prettily, smoothing out the wrinkles from his frown with her fingertips. “Are you sure?”

He snorted. “You will find your feminine charms have little effect on your Master.”

Brie gave up and buried her head in his chest, mumbling, “I guess I’m hopeless.”

He stroked her long hair and replied in a deceptively soothing voice, “Useless, yes, but not hopeless.”

His sense of humor was brutal and she loved it. Brie was about to object, when he gave her a direct command. “Take a quick shower and ready yourself for me.”

Those words were music to her ears. “My pleasure, Sir!” she replied, jumping off his lap and heading straight for the shower.

Lesson Three: A Matter of Ego

In less than a half hour Brie was washed, shaved, and primped. She opened the bathroom door and called out his name. “Sir?”

He answered with a low, sultry, “Come,” from the front of the apartment. Brie glided over the smooth marble, wanting to make a favorable impression. Since she wasn’t capable of cooking, she damn well would make up for it with her other skills.
Man does not live on bread alone!

Sir was waiting for her beside the red chaise with a silver chain in his hand. She followed the trail of links down and saw that it was attached to a leg of the chair. “Kneel before me, téa.”

Kneel before me, goddess…

Sir certainly had a way with words. Brie bowed before him and willingly accepted the cuff he secured around her ankle. “You will not be released until the lesson has been learned.”

She looked up at him questioningly. “What lesson, Master?”

He smiled. “That is for you to figure out.”

Brie had to hide her frustration. Mr. Gallant’s upfront method of teaching was so much easier and involved a much smaller chance of failure.