Chapter Eleven
What Amy did next
Kyle
She teetered away on the heels he’d bought her as though she was drunk, taking tiny, unsteady steps and clinging to the wood doorframe. Watching her departure, he smiled. She definitely hadn’t been drinking, so he hoped the response was entirely thanks to the kiss he’d given her. He knew he’d loved every second of the sublime caress.
“What the fuck was that?” Nigel whistled from his right side. “Are my eyes deceiving me, or is William Kyle finally in love?”
In love.
The words pinballed around Kyle’s head like the resonance of a deep, bassy song.
“What are you talking about?” Kyle peered at his mozzarella, trying to decide if he had any appetite for the meal. It looked good, of course, and like all of Leonard’s cooking, he was sure it tasted fabulous, but Shaun was right; Amy did have a way of diverting his interest elsewhere.
“You and her,” Roger hissed.
“ She has a name,” Kyle countered.
It was one thing for him to belittle and dehumanize the gorgeous brunette he’d claimed, but he wouldn’t allow anyone else to denigrate her, especially the likes of Roger. He’d called the men ‘friends’ when he’d described them to Amy, but in truth, only Shaun had a compassionate ear. The rest of them were overpaid assholes who he mainly still associated with because of the clubs and assets they owned. The truth was he wouldn’t trust most of them as far as he could throw them.
“Touchy!” Roger smirked. “That kinda just proves Nigel’s point, Kyle. You have it bad.”
“Actually, I have it good.” Kyle grinned as he recalled how divine Amy’s throat had felt earlier that day. “Fucking brilliant, really. I reckon you’re just jealous, Reynolds.”
“No chance,” Roger spat, but his defensiveness only strengthened Kyle’s point. He was dripping with envy for the wonderful arrangement Kyle had made with Amy, and for that, Kyle couldn’t blame him. She was wonderful, the best he could ever remember having.
“How long is she sticking around?” Shaun pushed the sliced tomato around his plate.
“For as long as I say so.” Kyle seized a piece of cheese and chewed on it while the rest of the sentence resounded in his head.
And that will be a fucking long time.
“I thought you said there was some kind of deal?” Stuart barked from the end of the party.
“There was…” Kyle reached for the stem of his wine glass. “But we’re well beyond that now. Do you think contractual law can compel a grown woman to strip for me on command?”
Kyle scanned the two rows of intrigued faces. They were used to having twenty-somethings on their arms and, if they were lucky, on their laps, but they’d never wielded so much influence over any of the pretty young things that the women would do what they asked. As far as Kyle had seen, the moment the financial donations to labels such as Armani and Gucci ran out, so did the women. The fuckers at his table had clearly never seen anything like Amy before. They didn’t understand what they’d found.
Amy.
Amy, with her humble beauty and understated subservience. Amy, who was only just discovering the joy of submitting to a man like him—a man who could not only degrade but also cherish her. A man who would hang her over the precipice but never let her go.
Amy had become everything.
“It seems unlikely,” Shaun agreed. “She must like you one hell of a lot.”
Kyle’s smile widened at his friend’s analysis. “We’re getting to know each other, and we’re having a lot of fun.”
“So, is this a relationship?” Nigel placed down his cutlery. “Because you said you were paying her.”
“It’s complicated.” That was one way of putting it. “She is working for me, and I’m paying her for that work, but whatever else is happening, it’s…” His voice trailed away as he tried to find the appropriate words.
“What?” Roger prompted sarcastically. “Nigel’s right, isn’t he? You’re falling for her!”
Kyle’s mind whirled at the accusation, but rather than the curt retort he’d expected from his mouth, he noticed his lips twitch. Perhaps he was falling for her? Kyle couldn’t imagine a day without her in his life anymore. There was only monochrome without the color she brought.
The thought was interrupted as Amy swung the door open at the other end of the room. Carrying another plate, she began the slow walk toward him, her embarrassment at being topless illustrated by the burning blush on her cheeks and the way she stubbornly refused to meet his eyes.
“Did Chef have a plate for you?”
There was no need for Kyle to ask. It was patently obvious that Leonard had, as was the fact she’d had to ask him for the dish while still being helplessly exposed. His cock strained at the delicious idea. Kyle had no clue why humbling her in front of other people was so damn hot, but God help him, it was. There was something exquisite about taking a beautiful woman and owning her so entirely that she’d allow him to parade her in front of his peers. It only proved what he reflexively knew to be true—Amy was perfection… or as close to it as he was ever going to discover.
“Yes, sir.”
Her chin rose as she rounded the top of the table to join him, and fleetingly, their gazes collided. Amy’s smoldered with a dizzying array of unspoken emotions—that she loathed him for making her behave that way, as well as the revelation she was increasingly struggling to come to terms with—that he really wasn’t making her do anything she didn’t want to.
“Good.” He pointed to the floor between him and Shaun, intentionally drawing her away from Nigel’s prying eyes. “Put it down here.”
“On the floor, sir?”
There was no defiance in her tone anymore, only that sexy air of resignation he’d come to adore. It was the same timbre he heard every night in his office when she served his nightcap and acted as his footrest. It was a sound he lived for.
“Yes.” He rose to his full height as she walked behind his chair, shrugging out of his expensive jacket and draping it by her feet. “You’ll kneel on my jacket while you eat.”
“Thank you.”
Fresh emotion flashed in her beautiful blue eyes, though he couldn’t immediately discern its roots. Arousal, perhaps, and certainly gratitude. The moment was over too quickly as she lowered to place the plate beside his jacket and fell to her knees as requested.
“You’re making her eat from the floor?” Stuart clapped his hands together as though it was the best idea he’d ever heard, and watching her gorgeous form at his side, Kyle was inclined to agree.
“She knows her place.” His hand moved to stroke away the loose strands of her hair from her face.
“I fucking love it.” Roger grinned enthusiastically. “I’d like to put them all down there where they belong.”
“No.” Correcting Roger, Kyle’s fingers stiffened in Amy’s hair. Trust Reynolds to misconstrue his meaning. “Not like that. She’s not less than me. Submission isn’t about worthiness, gentlemen. It’s only about being two sides of the same coin. She excels at following where I like to lead.”
Her focus flitted to him for one protracted second, her pupils dilating as she waited on his order to move.
“It looks like subjugation to me.” Roger shrugged. “Plain and simple.”
“It would.” Kyle rolled his eyes at the man farthest from him. “You never could see what was right in front of you.”
It was why his marriage to the beautiful Nadine was doomed to failure. A woman like her was never going to put up with his shit for too long.
“Eat, little girl.” Kyle relaxed his fingers, allowing them to trace an invisible line along her shoulder. He noticed the way her skin was cool to touch and made a mental note to permit her the use of his jacket once she’d finished her starter. “Want me to cut the mozzarella for you?”
“I did so outside, sir.” She glanced back over her shoulder, her expression sheepish as though she expected to be in trouble for her forethought. But on the contrary, Kyle had rarely been prouder.
“Good thinking.” He threw her a wink before she turned back, acknowledging the way she caught Shaun’s eyes before she lowered over the plate.
Pleased with the way he’d had the foresight to bring her around to his side of the table, Kyle smiled. Shaun was undeniably his oldest and closest friend, and he knew Shaun would respect what he and Amy were creating.
The room fell into suspended anticipation as she shifted to all fours and demolished her cheese and tomato. Only the occasional slurping sounds of her meal splintered the strained silence stretching out across the room as she surrendered, and she did so brazenly, with little apparent concern for her audience, who seemed utterly captivated by her display. Roger, Stuart, and Nigel rose to their feet, stretching in order to enjoy the show, while Kyle ran his hand idly over the delightful curve of her ass.
Kyle could barely recall being as gratified as he was by her performance. Even the hours she’d spent at his feet, polishing his cock and degrading herself, didn’t compare to the swelling sense of fulfillment he took from her submissive display.
Clearly, his analysis of their roles in the sizzling dynamic had been spot on. She needed this as much as he did, and together, they were manifesting magic.
“She’s amazing.”
The admiration in Shaun’s voice was the icing on top of the very considerable-sized cake Kyle was devouring. There were still courses of their meal to come, but frankly, he couldn’t wait to dispatch his guests and make her his again.
“Yes, she is.” Kyle reached for his napkin when she rose and handed it to Shaun. “Clean her up for me, will you, Shaun?”
The men’s gazes met momentarily as Kyle passed the table linen to him, Shaun’s lips curling as he took the serviette.
“Absolutely,” Shaun agreed.
“On your knees, Amy.” Kyle tapped her backside gently, compelling her to concur. Satisfaction soared in him as she did just that, straightening in Shaun’s direction.
“Well done, Amy.” Shaun grinned as he tackled the state of her mouth and chin. “That was fabulous.”
“Thank you, sir.” Her response was immediate, inspiring Shaun’s attention to dart quickly to Kyle as she capitulated.
“There.” Shaun placed the napkin on the table between him and Kyle. “All done.”
“Fabulous.” Kyle squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you, Amy. You may get up and collect your plate and my jacket.”
Nodding, she rose on shaky legs, placing her plate on the table before she collected his jacket. Heaving in a lungful of air, she thrust the fabric in his direction.
“No.” His palm rose to refuse the clothing. “You’re getting cold, so you’ll wear it, little girl.”
Her eyes widened at his suggestion. “Me, sir?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to wear it,” Nigel protested from beside Kyle. “And she sure as fuck will look better without it.”
“It’s not your decision or Amy’s choice.” Kyle glanced at Nigel. “Amy will do as she’s told.”
“Thank you, sir.” Opening the jacket, she tugged its dark fabric over her slim shoulders, catching her lip between her teeth as she waited on Kyle’s order.
“You’re welcome.” Sitting beside her, it was all abruptly clear to him. Her surrender to his will was everything— she, the woman who was only supposed to be compensation for Kendal’s rent but who’d become a beguiling distraction, was now everything.
“Clear the dishes away, please, little girl. Chef will have the next course ready.”