Knight (An Impossible Novel) (10 page)

After a while, his sigh broke through my entranced state.  “The groceries won’t arrive till late this afternoon,” he told me.  “I can order a pizza for lunch.  Would you like that?”

“If that’s what you want, Master,” I replied.

A shadow passed over his eyes, but it was gone as soon as it had come.  “We’ll figure out what you like soon enough, sweetheart.  But I want you to tell me if you don’t like it.  You don’t have to agree with everything I suggest.  In fact, I don’t want you to do that.  You are always to be completely honest with me.”

“Yes, Master,” I agreed quickly.  “I remember.”

“Good girl.”  He brushed a swift kiss on the top of my head.  I loved when he did that.  If my truthfulness would ensure his continued affection, then I would never lie to him.

He sighed again, turning his attention back to his laptop.  “Now.  Let’s see what tedious bullshit Clayton has sent me to do today.”  When he opened his email, he muttered a string of colorful curses. 

Master cussed a lot, but I didn’t mind.  I loved his fierceness, the intensity of his emotions.  I settled back into him; he was far more captivating than the insipid characters and their insignificant dramas that were playing out on the screen before me.

After a while, an annoyed growl emanated from Master’s chest, and he snapped the laptop closed.  “For someone who considers himself to be my best friend, Vaughn is a real bastard.  Fucking spreadsheets.”

The corners of my lips quirked up in a small smile.
  Now that I could read his moods better, Master’s blustering was amusing.  Just those few words were more entertaining than the entirety of the film that had been playing for the last hour.

Master stretched, his muscles shifting under my fingers where my hand rested on his stomach.  I loved his strength.  It made me feel
safe, protected.  My mind flitted to earlier that morning, when I had awoken to find his hands pinning my wrists to the bed, holding me down as he demanded that I return to my reality with him rather than being trapped in the horrors of my past.

That strange sensation stirred low in my belly once again.  I didn’t understand it, but it caused yearning to rise up within me.  I craved to be closer to him, to further cleave myself to him.  Acting on my desire, I drew my legs up onto the couch beside me and positioned myself on my side, my head resting in Master’s lap.

My smile broadened as I felt his cock jerk beneath me in response.

Chapter 9

Unfortunately, Master’s cock wasn’t the only thing that stiffened beneath me.  All of his muscles tensed as he froze.

“What do you think you’re doing, girl?”  He asked harshly.

My breath caught in my throat.  Even though I was pleased that I had aroused him, it hadn’t been my intention.  Reluctantly, I turned my head slightly so I could look up at him while I spoke to him, as he had commanded me to do.  His forbidding frown made me flinch, and I licked my lips nervously.  His eyes watched the movement of my darting tongue, and his cock pulsed beneath my cheek again.

“I just wanted to be close to you, Master,” I admitted breathily, my voice husky with anxiety and something darker that I didn’t recognize.  “Please.  Did I do something wrong?”

My cheeks flushed.  I knew I had done something wrong.  But resting my head in his lap didn’t really count as trying to do something sexual for him, did it?  I hadn’t been actively trying to manipulate him.

Or had I?

He hardened further as he brushed his fingers across my pinkened cheek, a hungry light making his predator’s eyes gleam.  My tremble was a result of eagerness, not fear.  I was desperate to ease that hunger, to fall prey to him as he claimed my flesh and my spirit, consuming me and making me a part of himself.

His lips suddenly thinned, and he pulled his hand away from my face to close it around my shoulder.  Although his expression was strained, his movements were gentle as he repositioned my body so that my head rested on his thighs rather than his groin.  He drew in a deep breath, the lines of his face easing into something neutral and non-threatening.  But I noticed that his hands were fisted where they rested on the couch on either side of him, no longer touching me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart,” he said, the tightness of his voice belying his calm façade.  “I shouldn’t have -”  He shook his head slightly, erasing the discomfiture that had flashed across his features.  “Just don’t do that again.”

I swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in my throat, fighting back the distress that threatened to overwhelm me.

“It’s okay, little one.  I’m not angry.”

But his hands didn’t shift to comfort me; they remained resolutely at his sides.

“Are you sure?”  I asked, my voice small.

He sighed and touched his fingers to my forehead, smoothing away the concern that had creased it.  “I promised I wouldn’t
lie to you, sweetheart.  I’m not angry with you.  You can stay as close to me as you want.  Just not there.”

I nodded my understanding, leaning into his touch.  Although residual disappointment lingered within me, the sweetness of the sensation of his skin against mine was far stronger.

The buzz that signaled the presence of someone at the door made me want to groan in frustration.  I enjoyed the way Master was looking down at me, and I hated the interruption.  He gripped my shoulders, carefully maneuvering me into a sitting position so he could stand.

“Wait here,” he ordered as he went to retrieve the pizza from the deliveryman who was waiting in the hallway.  He opened the door just wide enough for the man to pass the box through and then offered a perfunctory “thanks” as he shoved a tip at him.  Master shut the door firmly in his face, sliding the lock back into place with a definitive
click.

Master wasn’t going to allow anyone to come near me who he didn’t trust.

Safe.

When he turned back to me, his face was lit up with a grin.  My heart skipped a beat.  He was beautiful in his ferocity, but his smile was breathtaking.

“Come here,” he ordered, gesturing at the barstool where I had eaten breakfast.  “Let’s see if you like pepperoni.”

As it turned out, I loved pepperoni.  The rich saltiness of it on my tongue, mingled with the subtly sweet marinara sauce, was incredible.  The flavor was familiar, the simple pleasure of it eliciting pleasant emotions from some deep part of my brain.  I suddenly realized I would prefer a thicker crust and more cheese.  The construction of this pizza seemed all wrong to me.  But I wasn’t about to complain.  It was too delicious.

Although he wanted to get my calorie count up, Master wouldn’t allow me to eat more than two slices.  He claimed that he didn’t want me to get sick since I wasn’t accustomed to such rich food.  I wanted more, but I didn’t argue with him.  I loved that he was taking care of me, and I craved that much more fiercely than I wanted more pizza.

When we were finished with lunch, Master guided me back to the couch.  I frowned when he set his laptop back on his thighs, blocking me from resting my head there.  But I was thrilled to realize that his expression was as regretful as my own.

“I have to do more of this fucking paperwork,” he told me.  “Did you like the movie you were watching?  I can put it back on.”

I reflected back on the little bit of the film I had actually absorbed when I hadn’t been completely focused on Master.  “No,” I said after a moment’s consideration.  “I don’t think I did.”

“What didn’t you like about it?”  Master pressed.

I searched my mind, sifting through the feelings I associated with it and sorting them into something that I could express.  “The characters were… annoying.”  I rolled the word around in my mind, recalling what it meant.  I hadn’t had the luxury of being annoyed with someone in a long time.  My dislike had been inconsequential, and I had learned to quash it.  “The women claimed to be friends, but they did terrible things to each other.  They were… bitchy.”

Master laughed.  I savored the way the rich sound boomed through the room, echoing in the large open space.  “Sweetheart, it seems you might actually have good taste in movies,” he said with approval.  “Thank god.  I was really not looking forward to filling my days with cheesy rom-coms.”  He gave a dramatic shudder.  “The spreadsheets are torture enough.”

My lips parted slightly; I was momentarily stunned.  He was willing to endure something he disliked? 
For me?  The enormity of the gesture was too much for me to contemplate.  I shut it away, focusing on the fact that I had pleased him.

“Okay,” he said definitively.  “Let’s try something else.”  He grabbed up the remote and scrolled to his recommendations.  Thumbnails of movie posters appeared on the screen.  Judging by the tone of them, they were mostly action films or comedies, with a few old Westerns thrown in the mix.

He glanced over at me.  “Action or comedy?”

“What’s your favorite?”  I asked, genuinely not having a preference.

“Let’s go with both,” he grinned, an anticipatory light in his eyes.  I was thrilled that he was about to share something he enjoyed with me.  All of our interactions so far had been centered around my own behavior and well-being.  I was eager to learn more about Master.

He selected a movie called
Hot Fuzz
, pressing play before turning his attention back to his laptop.  But he kept glancing up at the screen, chuckling at the jokes that were obviously familiar to him.  Barely fifteen minutes had passed before he closed his laptop.

“Fuck it,” he muttered as he set it aside.

My smile had nothing to do with amusement at the film as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me up against him.  I was tempted to rest my head on his thighs again, but I quickly decided against it.  I loved the way his laughter rumbled through me as his chest vibrated beneath my cheek.  Every few minutes, I moved my eyes from the screen to sneak a glance up at him.  I had never seen him so relaxed.  His tousled dark hair and the flash of his white teeth as he smiled broadly made him appear almost boyish.

I was enamored with my serious, demanding Master.  His control centered me, focused me.  And I loved his ferocious, protective side.  But seeing him like this touched something deeper within me.  I suspected I was witnessing something precious, a part of himself he didn’t often share.  He was completely at ease with me by his side. 

My trust in him was implicit, a requisite part of his ownership.  But it seemed he trusted me as well, allowing me to see this side of him.

He glanced down at me, catching me staring.  “Watch the movie, sweetheart.  I promise you it’s far more interesting than I am.”

Not possible,
I thought. 

But he had given me an order, even if it was delivered lightheartedly.  I turned my attention back to the screen, determined to absorb the humor that brought Master such pleasure.  To my surprise, a giggle bubbled up my throat a few minutes later.

Master kissed the top of my head.  “That’s a beautiful sound, little one,” he told me warmly.

I glowed at the praise.  I allowed myself to become lost in the story, loving how my laughter mingled and danced with Master’s, filling the room with joy.  It was the sweetest sound I could ever recall.

We stayed like that all afternoon, Master seated on the couch with me cuddled up by his side.  He didn’t touch his laptop.  Instead, he fired up the film
Bad Boys II
as soon as the credits started rolling on
Hot Fuzz.
  Master evidently liked movies with over-the-top gunfights punctuated by well-timed jokes.  They were cheesy, and they didn’t take themselves too seriously.  Master had always seemed so serious to me.  I enjoyed his levity immensely.

The Netflix selection box was hovering over
Lethal Weapon
when the door buzzed again.  Master grinned at me as he turned off the TV.

“We’ll save that one for tomorrow, then,” he told me.  I nodded fervently.

The groceries Master had ordered were passed through the barely-open doorway.  I remained on the couch once the deliveryman had left, watching Master put away the food in the fridge and various cabinets.  I felt like I should help him, but he hadn’t told me I could move from the spot where he had left me.

He glanced over at me as he placed two frying pans on the stove eyes.  “I hope you’re okay with breakfast food for dinner.  It’s about all I can manage.”  He waved me over towards the kitchen.  “You don’t have to stay all the way over there.”

I leapt up with alacrity, eagerly closing the distance between us.  He cocked his head at me.  “You don’t have to wait for my permission to move around the apartment, sweetheart,” he told me.  “Just don’t go into the hallway.  Or my bedroom.”  He gestured towards the closed door that he had retreated behind to retrieve his clothes that morning.  My curiosity was instantly piqued.  I wanted to explore the heart of Master’s personal haven.

Don’t go into Master’s bedroom.

Ignoring my own wishes, I resolutely added it to my list of rules.  I seated myself on the barstool, preferring to stay in a spot that Master had designated for me.  Besides, from that vantage point I could watch the way his powerful shoulders flexed as he moved.

But my enthralled admiration soon shifted to concern as Master cursed over the smoking stove.  The acrid scent of burning permeated the room.

I acted before I could think, drawn by the need to allay Master’s distress.  I crossed the short distance between us and gently placed my hand on his arm, stilling his furious scraping at the egg that had blackened and stuck to the bottom of the overheated pan.  His brows rose in surprise as his eyes snapped up to meet mine.

“Can I help, Master?”  I asked, somewhat shyly.

One corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile, and I was shocked to realize that he appeared slightly self-conscious.  “Please do.  I’m a clusterfuck in the kitchen.  Let me clean this up and we can start again.  Take a look at what we’ve got in the fridge and go to town.”

We.
 
I liked the sound of that, as though we were an inseparable entity.

Compliantly, I took inventory of the new food supply while Master scrubbed the burned pans clean.  I decided to stick with the breakfast for dinner idea.  I found that I liked it.  Master already had the eggs and a pack of bacon out, so I selected a stick of butter and a bag of shredded cheddar cheese before taking an onion from the basket on the counter.

“So, what are we having?”  Master asked as he placed the pans back on the stove.

“Omelets,” I replied automatically.  A part of me was shocked to recognize the term, and even more surprised to find that the knowledge of how to make one was readily available in my mind.

Master pulled out a cutting board and a large knife and began dicing the onion as I set the bacon in the pan.  I enjoyed the way that we worked in tandem, both of us going about our tasks in companionable silence.  Well, it was silent until Master cursed softly.

“Shit.”  He swiped the back of his hand under his watering eyes.  “That burns like a motherfucker.”

Although I didn’t like the fact that he was in pain, I couldn’t stifle my giggle.  The idea of my fierce Master being brought to tears by a vegetable was undeniably funny.  And his harsh expletives were laughably extreme.

He raised an eyebrow at me. 
“Something funny?”  His tone was cool, but the corners of his lips twitched as though he was suppressing a smile.

“I think you’ve been watching too many action movies,” I said, distantly amazed at the teasing note in my voice.  “They’ve gotten you worked up.  Sounds like you’re pretty enraged with that onion.”