They moved together even afterward, riding those smaller crests, taking the last ounce of pleasure out of the experience. They’d been close to her normal bedtime when they’d decided to look at The Resort paperwork, so now, as she eased out of the climax, he noticed her lids were already drooping.
“We’ll pick this up tomorrow night,” he said, and she made a murmur of agreement. He turned them, cradling her in his arms, her leg hooked over his hip. He stayed inside her until he softened, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts against his chest as she caught her breath. When she nestled closer and he saw goosebumps on her skin, he knew the chill of the ceiling fan was affecting her.
Holding her with one arm, he pulled the comforter over them, keeping her warm. She adjusted, one arm folded against his chest, the other curled under his arm, her fingers caressing his back. “I love you, Matthew,” she said, her voice a breath against his skin. “It may be hindsight through romantic glasses, but I think I always did. Long before I realized or admitted it.”
“Of course you did,” he said placidly, and smiled when she closed the hand against his chest into a fist and beat out a gentle tattoo against him.
Her breathing evened out. He liked that, too. When they first were sharing a bed, she didn’t go to sleep easily or stay under peacefully. Now, unlike most women who seemed infused with energy after sex, she rode the aftermath like a welcoming boat, sailing into dreamland.
He wouldn’t be far behind her, but for now he held her while she slept, his own storytelling Scheherazade, and remembered that night she’d talked about.
Though a serious gamble, it had brought the relationship simmering between them for years at last to volcanic life. Matt had picked up on Savannah’s submissive side, long before she had done so. That night he’d frankly exploited it, pulling it to the surface in a dramatic way to ensure she confronted her feelings for him and his for her. It had resulted in marriage, and a deeper connection with another person than either one of them had ever experienced.
His gaze shifted to the scattered brochures and he smiled, shaking his head mentally. Yeah, he wasn’t into role play, but he was going to give her that damned fantasy. Because she might view him as a conqueror, but he was a conqueror whose only desire was ensuring his conquest had everything she could every possibly want.
Being a thorough planner, Matt had sought out the man on his executive team most able to help him learn how to take a step away from his hardcore reality into fantasy play.
Jon had suggested doing the role play scene last, after Matt had all the other Resort experiences to bolster him. He’d also recommended Matt come to his house to discuss the challenge face to face. Matt had half-expected—and feared—some crazy-assed visualization exercises. Well, no matter foolish he’d feel, if that was what was needed, he’d do it. He trusted his man to get him where he needed to be to achieve his objective.
Instead, Jon had invited him to sit on his back porch and share a bottle of Jack. Rachel had a Saturday morning yoga class, so it was just the two of them, but Matt had noted the pleasing signs of her presence. Her scent, a new set of pillows on the couch with a bamboo tree print, a romance novel on the coffee table.
But the most important sign of it was in Jon himself, the relaxed attitude of a male who had his forever mate, and was comfortable in the home they’d made together. Matt had no doubt, before she’d left that morning, Jon had enjoyed the many delights his sub had to offer. The contentment of a sated Master and male rested on Jon as obviously as the other clues to her presence.
“You’re overthinking this,” Jon said, pouring Matt a drink and sitting back.
“So says the man who doesn’t feel or look like an idiot standing on his head and saying ‘ohm.’”
“Because it reflects who I am.” Jon gestured at him with his glass. “And therein lies my point. You don’t need to doubt yourself on this, Matt. It keys into the type of Master you’ve always been.” He tapped his temple. “Up here. When you tune in to what she needs, you’ll just open that door inside yourself, and it will be there.”
“So your advice is not to prep at all?”
“Not for that end of it. Get the staff on board with all the trappings, give them some leeway so you have the spontaneity angles, the unexpected variables that you relish when we’re tackling a new project. Beyond that, don’t even think about it until the time comes. And when it does, think about her, how you feel about her, deep down. It’s in you, Matt. The fantasy wouldn’t have persisted so strongly for her if she didn’t see elements of it in you every day. It was all there, out front, the night you made her yours. It all comes back to that.”
A smile touched Jon’s lips. “If you’re going to meditate on anything, meditate on that. No ‘ohms’ required.”
He had thought about it. As dramatic as it might sound, he had claimed her like a conqueror.
He’d do it here.
Giving himself another minute to figure out what to do about the naked women at his feet, Matt swept his gaze over the interior of the large tent, with its dark red curtained walls. Shields and swords were propped against a wooden frame, armor threaded onto the arms of it. A big table held a weathered map, pieces placed upon it the way they would be for a conqueror contemplating his army’s strategy.
Yet there were things in the tent that a battle commander wouldn’t have—unless he was ensuring the comfort of his lady and maximizing the best ways to enjoy her. The large, luxurious bed, draped in gold velvet and piled with pillows, was a nod to that.
Bidding the women to remain kneeling with a short gesture, Matt moved to the entrance of the pavilion tent. Two of his “soldiers,” muscular men clad in leather and armor, stood silently at either side of the entrance. They didn’t address him, but straightened their already military perfect stance.
He was looking out at the incomparably romantic view of the Caribbean, only thirty feet away at high tide. Moonlight formed a lightning track straight down to the shoreline, but it felt like it stopped in the center of his heart.
God, he loved her so. Maybe that was the hardest part of “role play” to him—having to act for even a minute like she wasn’t his reason for breathing.
And yet…would a conquering warlord be nervous about the queen being brought to his bed? A queen whose castle he’d just conquered, whose father had been willing to sell her to save that castle. His fortification of stone was worth more to him than his daughter’s virtue…or her heart.
“The best fantasy lies upon a foundation of truth.” Jon had also said that, and he was right. Truth was the key to getting into this. Matt turned and went back into the tent, to the women. “Prepare my bath,” he ordered them.
As they rose, he had to give credit where credit was due. Their training made every movement a sexual invitation. Hellfire.