Chapter 17
Gage pulled through the iron gates of the Davenport Estate, and as we approached the front of the traditional brick mansion, I marveled at the lush, sprawling lawns that seemed to reach the horizon.
Rolling to a stop at the main entrance, he alighted and rounded the hood, warding off a well-meaning valet who moved to open my door.
As Gage assisted me from the car, helping me maneuver the full skirt of my ballgown, I took in our surroundings.
By no means did we live in anything other than the lap of luxury, but this place was on a whole other level of opulence.
Fitting my hand in the crook of his arm, Gage escorted me onto the stone walkway that led to the front door.
A light breeze blew through my hair, and I brushed the strands from my face, my wide-eyed gaze riveted to the nearby pond.
The night was mild, absent of even a drop of rain.
Fluffy clouds parted, allowing the silver light of the crescent moon to ripple onto the pond.
The moon seemed to hover—just a tiny dip and the bottom would touch the pond, breaking the glass-like surface.
A man in a tux greeted us at the door. He took our jackets before pointing us in the direction of the mansion’s host. And speaking of tuxedos…
good God, how I ached to rip off my husband’s and have my way with him.
I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, appreciating how his chest filled out the vest and overcoat.
But he caught me ogling, and his eyes sparkled behind the black mask he wore.
“Mr. and Mrs. Channing. Welcome to our home,” said a man who also knew how to wear a tux, though he lacked Gage’s commanding presence, not to mention a pair of sexy indigo eyes and a cock I wanted to kneel for at this very moment.
Gage shook hands with the man as he introduced us.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, failing to offer my hand because I knew the rules. No other man was to touch me, no matter the social etiquette. In the beginning, Gage had allowed that tiny concession, but not since I’d betrayed him with…
Better to not go there.
Mr. Davenport seemed unsurprised by my lack of manners, and something niggled in the back of my mind. Suddenly, I felt on display, naked despite wearing a gown heavier than seven layers of clothing.
“Pleased to meet you,” our host said, and even though he didn’t possess Gage’s innate dominant manner, he had a head full of thick, blond hair and a broad smile that revealed the kind of perfect white teeth I’d seen in toothpaste commercials.
“This is my wife, Virginia.” He indicated the brunette holding onto his arm.
Her hair was sleek and straight, and she had the kind of curvy waist I envied.
But her smile was as genuine as her husband’s, and that was all that mattered. She stepped forward and gently took my arm. “How about we allow these men to do what men do at these shindigs? There are several ladies just dying to meet the woman who snatched the one and only Gage Channing.”
Something about the way she spoke of Gage made me curious, and a little cautious. I shot him a quick glance, relaying so much with a furtive dart of my gaze.
May I go, Master?
With a slight nod, he bent and kissed my cheek. “Have fun, baby,” he said, voice too intimate to be overheard. “Don’t forget your task for the night.”
I’d grown used to the butt plug. It wasn’t overly big, so I didn’t find it uncomfortable, and I certainly didn’t miss the rectal burn the larger ones caused. Even so, now that Gage had reminded me of what I was to do, my ass suddenly felt too full—brimming with the promise of humiliation.
I swallowed hard as Virginia led me through the throng of people. Ballgowns of all colors brushed the parquet flooring, and men wore a variety of tuxedoes, from traditional black with long-tailed jackets to contemporary attire, embellished with colors from tasteful to…less tasteful.
She ushered me into another room where tables were grouped in strategic patterns around the dance floor. I instantly recognized the decor because I’d helped pick out the colors. Ironically, the ballroom matched my dress, and I wondered if that had been Gage’s intention all along.
Probably so. Gage did everything by design.
“Over here,” Virginia said, yanking on my hand and leading me to a table where four other women, also decked out in extravagant ballgowns, sat.
“Kayla,” my hostess said, “I’d like you to meet…”
Too busy taking in the features of each woman, I tuned out their names, as I likely wouldn’t remember them anyway. Not in this setting, with my heart pounding an irregular rhythm behind my breastbone.
The blonde with enviable curls and dark brown eyes nibbled on a crab-stuffed mushroom, her gaze shyly taking me in.
The other three were all various shades of browns, but their hairstyles couldn’t have been more different.
One sported a cute pixie while the other two had longer lengths.
The girl wearing a dress that could pass as a wedding gown wore her hair past her ass.
The last of this brunette trio ran her fingers through layers that feathered around her flawless complexion.
These women were, in a word, gorgeous. And something about the way they interacted with each other—with ease and familiarity—told me their friendships had withstood the test of time. I sat with them for about forty-five minutes, nibbling on hors d’oeuvre and listening to their casual chatter.
But I felt disconnected, unable to relate to Blondie’s endeavor to find the perfect piece of jewelry for her upcoming trip to Paris. Nor could I empathize with Pixie Girl’s indecision on which boarding school to send her daughter to next year.
Over my dead body would I send my children away.
Despite the world of differences between this group and myself, I still found their company pleasant, and I could see meeting up with them for lunch, or even a day of shopping if Gage allowed it.
Something told me he would. My gut chewed over this whole night in a way that frightened and excited me, and I sensed these women and their as yet named husbands were going to play a big part in our lives. Maybe Gage wanted us to have friends. The concept sounded kind of…nice.
I was lost in Virginia’s talk about the next fundraiser she was in the process of organizing when the plug in my ass vibrated me out of my stupor. The telltale mechanical sound blazed my cheeks red, but no one seemed to hear it over the excited discussion of venues and caterers.
Rising from my chair, I excused myself to use the ladies room and headed in the direction that Virginia pointed out. But that wouldn’t do. Gage had given me specific instructions, and they didn’t involve hiding in a bathroom, safe behind a closed door.
Damn him.
A wall of French doors caught my eye to the right, and before I could give it more thought, I slipped outside and immediately wished I had my jacket.
But the weather wasn’t too bad, and doing Gage’s bidding would be easier out here, where I had plenty of space to explore, between the stone walkways, spotted with benches and lanterns that invited people to meander through the gardens surrounding the gazebo.
Only a few stragglers braved the chilly night, but most of them kept close to the estate.
Gage hadn’t said a word about not going outside to touch myself, so I took off down the path, eyeing the shelter of trees that provided a backdrop for the gazebo.
Ash trees were prominent throughout the grounds, and their autumn leaves—the color of burnt sienna and gold—quietly drifted to the grass like confetti at a party.
I found an unusually large tree a few feet from the gazebo, its trunk wide enough to conceal most of my body.
And that’s where I settled in for the duration of my first task, my back against the smooth bark as I gathered my gown up in the front and wedged my hand between my thighs, pushing Gage’s rope to the side.
Oh God. The friction of that rope in the valley of my ass cheeks, and the way it pressed tight against my nipples amped me even hotter. Between the vibrations from the plug and the slickness of my needy pussy, left aching all day from Gage’s denial games, I wasn’t sure how I’d survive this.
But I had to, even if that meant visualizing spiders crawling all over me to keep from coming. Because I knew my husband well enough to know that he expected me to touch myself until the vibrations stopped.
It was all about control, and I’d better find some, or else.
But damn…
With a groan, I let my head fall back against the tree and increased the circling motion of my fingers. And they were playing a dangerous game—touching in the perfect way with enough pressure to bring a massive rush of blood to my core.
So damn good. Could I get off and lie about it?
Not even an option. Not only would he know I was lying, but I’d break under my own guilt in two seconds flat. But shit…I was going to come. So close.
Too fucking close.
Growling, and more than a little angry, I banged my head against the trunk as I wrenched my fingers away from temptation.
Just a few seconds, I promised myself, concentrating on breathing until my heartbeat slowed.
But my ass still vibrated Gage’s command, and I imagined his words as surely as if he’d spoken them into my ear.
Fingers in your drenched cunt, Kayla. Don’t stop now.
Why did he have to torture me so damn much? I was never free of him—if his control didn’t wrap me in metaphorical cellophane, then his voice echoed in my head, uttering filthy words that never failed to make me do his bidding.
Pushing my wet fingers back into the center of slick heat, I worked myself into a frenzy. My pussy throbbed with each stroke, and I climbed higher—so high I worried I’d float away, regardless of the consequences. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pleaded with a higher power to help me resist.