“Why not both?” Silas settled the bare bone to the side and held his fingers in front of her lips. “Clean me.”
Willow met his gaze, saw the steel in them, and leaned forward to suck his index and middle fingers clean, tongue sweeping along the rough calluses. A tremor passed through her, nerves still too raw to separate obedience from desire.
He grinned. “Such a helpful little fucktoy.”
Kenny snorted softly but didn’t comment.
Silas dipped into the mushrooms next, dragging one through the horseradish-Parmesan cream and lifting it to her mouth. “You remember these, cremini, flash-fried. But this sauce? New recipe. Crème fraîche, fresh horseradish, lemon zest, truffle oil, and a snowfall of Parmigiano-Reggiano. Rich enough to earn a spanking.”
She chewed and whimpered. The sharp bite of horseradish softened by cream and cheese was decadent, almost obscene.
“That good?” Boone asked.
She nodded, mouth full.
Silas held another luscious piece of lamb on the end of a bone, but this time, smeared it lightly in sauce before feeding it to her. “Suck the bone like you’re trying to earn your dinner, little tongue-whore.”
She gave him a flat look despite the way her insides fluttered at the name, but if that’s what he saw, that’s what she’d give him. She wrapped her mouth around the bone like it was his cock, dragging her lips slow, tongue swirling around joint, making it as obscene as she could manage without deepthroating it.
And fuck if her body didn’t respond. A throb low in her belly, a pulsing ache between her thighs.
“Damn,” Kenny muttered.
“So obedient,” Silas said smugly.
Between bites of lamb and mushroom, he fed her chunks of burrata-stuffed bread, the warm cheese stretching as he tore it open. He dragged one through a bit of the leftover lamb glaze and fed her that, too. “Savory, melty, herby,” he said. “You should be worshipping me for this.”
“I’ll write you a thank-you note later, Sir.”
Next came the rabbit, which he informed her was shredded leg meat, still warm, seasoned with thyme and a hint of browned shallot, served over a velvety corn purée. He dipped his fingers into the meat, then the purée, and brought it to her mouth. She sucked his fingertips clean, again and again, until her lips were glossed with butter and corn.
“This bunny,” he told her, his voice low, “is a special thank you. An acknowledgment of the rabbit you fed my wolf.”
She swallowed hard, and her chest warmed.
If she’d stayed with James, she’d be in Lapland under a glass-roofed chalet, taking reindeer sleigh rides and watching the Aurora Borealis above missionary sex — but that paled in comparison to twelve hours of having one of her darkest fantasies fulfilled, followed by Silas feeding her from his hands with last night’s obedience marathon still singing in her bones.
This wasn’t a curated, purchased fantasy. It was the life she’d wished for, built on the fierce collision of love and complete surrender, where the weight of expectation was replaced with clarity, purpose, and care that ran so deep it remade her. Her men demanded her obedience with one hand and soothed her with the other. They fed her, fucked her,anchoredher. And in return, she freely and fully gave them everything.
And who needed a professional chef when she had Silas lifting the dome off her dessert: delicate apple galettes with caramel drizzle and cinnamon-dusted cream, hand-held and flaky. He tore one apart with his fingers, fed her the inner pieces while sucking the sticky sauce off his own knuckles.
When he held a bite just out of her reach and she tried to stretch her neck to reach it, he laughed, warm and indulgent. “Oh, she’s getting needy. Might have to cut her off before she starts begging for more than food.”
“She looks happy,” Boone said. “Sated.”
“She is,” Kenny agreed. “And she earned every bite.”
Willow didn’t speak. She just leaned into Silas’s hand when he wiped a bit of caramel from her chin, let him trace her bottom lip with his thumb, and rested her head against his arm with a contented sigh.
It wasn’t use. Wasn’t pain. It was something sweeter. She was full and fed. Adored.
The deal after her fantasy scene, something Kenny implemented without her input, was a couple of days off from being used or hurt. The power exchange was still there, warmand comforting, and she loved Silas even more for pushing the issue. For reminding all of them who was in charge.
About thirty minutes after she ate, while they were all piled in bed streaming a show, Kenny walked into the playroom while she was lying between Boone and Silas, and quietly ordered, “On the bondage table, little hawk. I’ll be inspecting you every two hours the rest of the evening, until you go to sleep.”
She climbed off the bed, stuck her feet in her slippers, and walked to the red medallion. She was allowed in and out of the bed today without having to wait for permission, but she wasn’t going to assume anything when it came to the playroom.
“Enter. On your front first. Bondage table.”
