Page 35 of Becoming His Pet

“I don’t like that word. Don’t say it anymore. Orwhatever.I hate that one, too.” He schooled her while still cradling her face in his hands. His warm, soft hands that could easily bring her pain, but at the moment brought comfort to her. She wasn’t flailing about wildly; she was contained in his grasp.

It felt... good.

Damn.

“What do I say then?” she asked, not wanting him to leave her just yet.

“Yes, sir works well enough, I think.” He smiled. A warm, genuine smile like she’d seen at the flower shop. Maybe giving him an inch would make things easier for her, maybe she’d get her phone back and she could call Bernie.

“Okay.” She tried to nod, but he still held her.

He laughed. “Didn’t even last two seconds. Try again, pet.” He ran his thumbs over her cheekbones.

“My name is Nora,” she responded firmly.

“Yes, but I’ll call you what you are—my pet or trouble. Both fit you well.” He brought her face to his lips, pressing them gently to her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then to her mouth.

His lips didn’t linger against hers, but pressed firmly, possessively then retracted, leaving her in a light fog of desire and confusion. What the hell?

“I brought in a rug for you. The flooring gets cold in here when the air’s on. You can thank me by not arguing and getting yourself fed.” He picked up the bowl and placed it on the floor beside one of the kitchen chairs.

She looked down at it, her heart raced, and a deep, dark sensation flowed through her. He left her to think about what she would do and went to the stove. When he returned he had a pan of eggs with him. Squatting down, he spooned a hearty helping of scrambled eggs into the dish.

“Go on, pet. It will get cold if you wait too long.” He stayed in his lowered position, looking up at her.

It was decision time.

Her stomach grumbled, making him chuckle.

Deciding to put her pride on the back burner, she slid down to her knees onto the small patch of carpeting he’d brought in. It looked like a leftover piece from the playroom, but she wasn’t going to comment on it and chance him taking it away. It was soft and cushioned, making the pressure on her knees more tolerable as she positioned herself to eat.

“Uh-uh, now that’s not how you eat. Now be a good pet and eat up.” He shooed her hands away when she tried to pick up the bowl.

Her stomach twisted into a new knot. He expected her to eat without her hands. The mortification couldn’t be ramped up any higher.

“Make sure you’re careful with your hair, don’t want it to get dirty.” He smiled.

She’d been wrong. This could get as humiliating as he wanted it to get.

Shoving away her angry retort, she placed her hands on the carpeting on either side of the bowl and lowered her face to it. Darting her tongue out, she licked at the eggs, finding a piece that was easily grabbed by her teeth, and she took a bite.

They were warm, fluffy, perfectly seasoned. Of course, he’d be a great cook. Asshole.

“That’s a good girl.” He ran his hand over her head, down her back and patted her upturned ass.

He was gone before she could smack his hand away. She listened to his booted feet move around the kitchen while she ate her breakfast. He returned to the table just as she shoved a piece of egg into her mouth. With her fingers.

He sighed. “I can put you in mittens if you’d like.”

She shook her head.

“No. I’m fine.” She cursed to herself. “I mean, no, thanks.”

Greg sat at the table, his feet now only a few inches from the bowl. She chanced a peek up at him. He was eating his own breakfast, with a fork and plate and if she wasn’t imagining things, he had a cup of coffee.

Coffee.

The nectar of every god worshiped in the world.

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