Shrugging, I moved toward the bed. Lowering myself to my hands and knees, I lifted his bedding and peeked under the frame. My breath caught at the sight of the nice, leather box tucked neatly away.
Reaching out, I managed to slip the tip of my finger into one of the handles and pulled it out from under the bed. Blushing at what I knew was waiting for me inside, I scooped it up as I stood. I couldn’t stop myself from looking toward the bedroom door as if expecting Mr. Chamberlain to step back in and catch me with his private things.
When nothing happened, I placed the box on the bed and climbed up. Kneeling in front of it, I reached for the latch. With one more quick glance toward the closed door, I flicked the release and tossed open the lid.
My blush deepened when I saw the contents. Reaching in, I trailed my fingers over the boxes of new sex toys. And they were all definitely new. Each toy was still in its original packaging with those little tape stickers keeping them closed.
Had he purchased them after meeting me? Had he picked out each toy with the thought of using them on me in mind?
Smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, I pulled out each package one by one. I placed the textured, glass dildo next to the cock rings and assorted butt plugs. I eyed the prostate vibrator with delight, wiggling as I imagined Mr. Chamberlain using it on me.
Then things started getting interesting. I pulled out rolls of black bondage tape. I’d never used it before, but I knew it would only stick to itself and was easier to cut through than rope. Moaning, I pulled out five silk ties that felt like the same material as his suit ties but were wider and significantly longer. I rubbed the black fabric against my cheek. Wrapping one around my wrist, I twisted against the binding and groaned as my cock hardened instantly in my pants.
Placing them to the side before I embarrassed myself, I returned to the box and its endless supply of goodies. I found two bundles of black rope that felt as soft as silk and a pair of good medical scissors that would cut through them like butter. Lifting them out, I set them beside the tape.
Leaning back over the open container, I eyed the last package. It was different from the others. It was dark blue and looked like one of the large jewelry boxes my father had given to my mother on occasion.
Wondering what it was doing in Mr. Chamberlain’s treasure box, I reached inside and pulled it out. Opening it, I sucked in a short breath when my eyes landed on the silver ring nestled in a bed of velvet. Reaching in, I tenderly stroked a finger around the edge.
It was a collar.
I knew it was mine and that he had meant for me to find it. Mr. Chamberlain wouldn’t have planted the idea to look under his bed otherwise.
It wasn’t like the solid, leather collars or padlocked chains I’d seen at the club. In truth, it was nothing like any collar I’d ever seen, but I instantly knew its purpose. It was delicate and beautiful. And custom made, I thought as I lifted it out of its velvet lining.
The simple, silver circle had two small loops terminating each end at the back. I looked in the box for the matching lock that would keep it around my throat, but it was empty.
No, it wasn’t, I thought as I caught a quick flash of silver.
I pulled out a small, single loop of silver. Comparing it to the loops in the back, it occurred to me that Mr. Chamberlain himself couldn’t attach the two pieces. It would take a jeweler, most likely the same one who had made the collar in the first place, to join the loop with the ring permanently.
I hadn’t known how much I’d needed such a blatant display of his intentions until I held that collar in my hands. I’d always felt as if I’d bounced from one unknown to another my entire life, but holding his collar I felt… anchored, secure. Wiping the solitary tear from my cheek, I placed the collar back into the case with gentle hands, vowing to earn it.
I placed the silk ties and rope on top to protect the collar from the rest of the items. Intellectually, I knew the sturdy jewelry box would protect it, but I couldn’t be too careful.
Crawling off the bed, I slid the box back into its resting place. Standing on trembling legs, I turned and made my way toward his office.
I knocked softly and waited.
“Come in, Quentin.”
Opening the door, I stepped inside and realized my mistake. What he called his office was more like a studio. Shelves filled with whimsical, paper sculptures lined the walls. Shapes that looked impossible made real with paper. I saw birds in flight, flowers blooming, and beautiful butterflies with segmented wings and perfectly detailed bodies—too many butterflies to count.
His back was to me, but I could see the single sheet of brown and white paper as he maneuvered it into incomprehensible shapes.
“Come sit with me, Quentin,” he said, gesturing to the large cushion he’d placed on the floor by his side.
Folding my legs beneath me, I sat on the plush cushion. Leaning into him, I rested my head against his thigh. His hand made a brief foray over my cheek before returning to his work.
“Do you feel more comfortable now?” he asked, and I knew he knew I’d seen the collar.
Nodding, I rubbed my cheek against him like a contented kitten. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he said, satisfaction clear in his voice.
I stayed by his side as he continued his piece. It was nice, just being in his presence with nothing to do and no expectations. He made me feel safe enough to slow down, to pause.
What felt like hours later, I opened my eyes when something light and soft brushed against my cheek. Turning my head, I looked up to see him staring down at me. A brown bunny with little white spots hovered in my field of vision.
“A little rabbit for my little rabbit,” he said as I reached up and touched my finger to the soft figure.
Taking it, I spun the paper rabbit in my hands and tried to imagine how he’d done it. It was adorable, and I felt something in my chest loosen at the sight of it. He’d made it just for me. No one had ever made me something like it before.
“Now, you’ll have your little rabbit to remember today by,” he said softly.
“I never knew you were so sentimental,” I teased as I hugged the rabbit to my chest, feeling sentimental all on my own.
“Blame it on my mother,” he replied without an ounce of shame. “It’s getting late. We should order dinner. I would let you cook for us,” he said, cutting off my protests. “But there’s nothing to eat in the kitchen.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, putting stocking his kitchen first on my list of priorities.
“Do you have any preferences?”
I shook my head where it still rested against his leg, feeling no desire to move. “No, sir.”
“There’s this Chinese restaurant around the corner,” he offered.
“Sounds perfect, sir.”
“Quentin?” he asked, drawing my attention back to him.
I tilted my head back and met his gaze. “Yes, sir?”
“Do you want to stay the night?” he asked softly.
I studied his expression for a minute. I knew if I stayed the night, I wouldn’t be sleeping in his guest bedroom. I’d be sleeping in his bed. Was I ready for that?
I wanted to know him in all ways. I wanted to feel his body over mine, in mine. And I wanted him to know me. I wanted him to look at me with knowledge in his eyes as he remembered the way it felt to be inside of me. I wanted it all.