“Make… make me…”
“Make you come.”
“I’m not getting naked again—”
“I’m not asking you to. I told you I would take good care of you. First, I want you to come back into the gallery with me.”
“The gallery?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
His finger stroked once down my neck, and he turned to me with an irritated look.
“Oh,” he said. “I’d forgotten you didn’t have your collar.”
“I don’t wear a collar.”
“You will,” he said, waving his hand in the air as though it was a commonplace thing. “But now, I want to talk with you about this cake.”
*Oh, crud on a muffin. The cake.*
I’d almost forgotten about it in the minutes since Knox had looked at my body and told me to strip for him. Everything seemed like a daydream, but seeing the cake on its side pulled me back to reality with
