Page 116 of Serving the Mogul

I kissed a hungry path to her ear and murmured, “And I’m yours.”

A few hot kisses later, I had her legs spread and wrapped around my waist as I pushed inside her. She was hot and wet, her breasts crushed under my chest, and her eyes locked with mine as I pinned her wrists above her head.

“Mine,” I whispered as I stroked deep inside her.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t enough, not yet. I shifted both wrists to one hand, and cupped her breast in the other, teasing her nipple until it was stiff and hard. “All of you, Tina. You’re mine…every inch of you. Heart and soul and body.”

She shuddered as I drove deep.

“All of me, James. You have all of me.”

Groaning, I kissed her, and she softened under the hard, driving thrusts until we were both straining toward climax.

And when it was over and I was laying with her in my arms, her breath soft and even in sleep, I smiled.

I wasn’t entirely sure why, except that I honestly was happy in a way that I’d rarely felt. No, even happier than my old definition of happiness...and it was a feeling I could get used to.

I rubbed my cheek against her hair and closed my eyes.

Forty-Three

Tina

Staring into the mirror,I dragged in another breath and held it.

After a count of ten, I let it out.

I repeated those calming breaths for one minute.

The woman staring back had an overly bright glitter to her eyes and cheeks, which remained flushed. No amount of deep breathing exercises would help now.

James was waiting for me at our private booth, and in less than fifteen minutes, this “collaring” ceremony would begin. I was about to make a permanentpubliccommitment to a man—and to let everyone know.

Man, if anybody had told me this would be my life a year ago, I probably would have suggested they seek therapy fast.

But it felt…right.

It felt good.

Even with me being so nervous now, as I checked my hair and make-up.

At least this time, James hadn’t been involved in selecting the dress, nor had he asked Zoey to design it. I found a vintage boutique specializing in retro-style clothing. The dress was stunning and far bolder than anything I’d ever imagined wearing.

The front and back panels were delicate ivory, giving it an almost demure look with a draping neckline and a back that plunged nearly to the small of my back. The color and front neckline, however, were where all attempts at demure ended.

The straps were tiny golden chains, dozens of them, some with simple chains, others embedded with glittering rhinestones that caught the light. On the sides, similar chains held the front and side panels together. A traditional bra was out of the question, so I wore an adhesive bra, one that plumped my breasts together and made my cleavage look amazing.

There was no way I could wear panties under the dress, but something told me James wouldn’t mind at all.

He asked me not to wear a necklace, although I’d figured it out after looking up what to expect from a collaring ceremony. After finding the dress, I stopped at the salon to have my hair, make-up, and nails done, letting the chatter of the shop distract me from my nerves.

It worked for a while, but now, alone in the ladies’ room, I had nothing but my thoughts and nerves.

This collaring ceremony…it was a public commitment. Apermanentone. Did I know James well enough? Did we have the kind of relationship to be together forever?

My breath tripped out of me uneasily as I asked the question Ireallyneeded to know—did I love him? Did he love me?

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