Nik Rossiter’s Fifth Avenue Penthouse Condo in Rossiter House overlooking Central Park, New York City, Saturday morning, January 4, 2014
Nikolai Rossiter rolled over and snuggled up behind Violette O’Reilly. She was still deeply asleep and had a slight smile on her face. Her wavy, dark-red hair was spread over the pillows with abandon. He loved her scent—Bvlgari’s BLV, a soft lavender and violet fragrance. He picked up the blanket and checked the luscious heart-shaped bottom that was tucked up against his morning hard-on. It was still pink from their session last night at Le Club Eastside-Manhattan. Although his Dom side loved to see that spectacular bottom a bright shade of pink, he didn’t like it to last until the next day. He ran his hand over her butt and leaned down and placed a light kiss on each round cheek before he carefully got out of bed. He pulled on a navy-blue velour robe and padded into the state-of-the-art kitchen of his Fifth Avenue penthouse to put on a pot of coffee. He loved to bring Violette coffee in bed. It was just a small way to spoil her since she didn’t allow him as many opportunities to do that as he would have liked. Her stubborn sense of independence was a sore point between them.
He was extremely proud of Violette’s position as first violinist of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra and her solo concert career. He wished, however, that she would make use of his chauffeur and security team. Her trip home from Lincoln Center after performances that ended late at night was a particular problem for him. She claimed he wanted to wrap her in cotton batting and that it would stifle her creativity. That sounded like a load of crap to him. He just wanted to be sure his woman was safe on the sometimes dangerous streets of New York. Taking taxis was bad enough, but he especially hated having her ride the subways although she had grown up in New York and had ridden them all her life. That was an invitation to disaster as far as he was concerned. They had had an argument about that very issue the night before at the club, and that was perhaps why he had been a little harder on her than he had meant to be. As a Master Dom, he viewed any loss of control on his part as a failure, and he was annoyed with himself. He wanted to make it up to her.
When Nik walked back into the master suite with a carafe of strong coffee and plates of hot buttered croissants, Violette was still asleep. He climbed back into bed beside her. He rolled her over, brushed her hair out of her face, and kissed her gently. You are so beautiful and such a pain in the butt sometimes.
“Wake up, sleepyhead. Coffee’s ready.” When she merely grunted, he kissed her neck and nibbled on her ear. Her ears were one of Violette’s highly erogenous zones, and he always took advantage of that fact. Nik Rossiter missed few opportunities—either in his business or personal life. His relationship with Violette O’Reilly was precious to him, and she was the greatest treasure in his life. He would like to make their arrangement permanent either by collaring or marrying her, but he knew she wasn’t quite ready for either option.
She squirmed and murmured, “Go away. I’m sleeping.”
“Is that any way to address your Master, especially when he comes bearing coffee?” He had to grin. She simply was not a morning person.
She sniffed the air delicately although her eyes were still closed. “I don’t smell any coffee. Are you sure this isn’t a tricky ruse to rudely awaken your devoted sub so you can have your nefarious way with her?”
“It’s in a carafe, silly goose.”
“Oh. In that case…” She struggled up from under the blanket until she was resting against the pillows. Her glorious breasts were peeking out above the rumpled sheets. She still looked sleepy.
Nik poured her coffee and passed her a plate bearing a flakey warm croissant from the French bakery on the next block.
“Do you have a performance tonight or just a matinee?”
“Matinee and also a performance tonight,” she answered succinctly.
“What time will you be done? I’ll have Daniels waiting for you with the car. Do you want to come back here for a late supper or go directly to your place? I can meet you there.”
“Nik, I thought we hashed this out last night. I don’t want to be picked up by your driver. I only have to go a few stops on the subway. It’s no big deal. Really.”
“Are you going to continue to argue with me? I don’t see the necessity for this strife.” He was starting to get annoyed with her again, and he tried to tamp down his temper. He never made much progress with her when his temper was up. She was a typical stubborn, redheaded Irishwoman and had a hot temper of her own. He had better luck when he could reason calmly with her, but that was damn hard. This stubborn streak of hers rode right up his butt.
“Well, I do. I don’t want to be coddled.” Her bright-green eyes sparkled with temper. “I’m an adult woman, and I can make my own decisions. You know I don’t want a full-time D/s relationship. I love our play, but I’m not going to allow you to take over my entire life.” She frowned at him as she took a bite of her croissant.
“You know damn well I’m not interested in taking over your entire life. I just want to make it a little easier and safer for you. I don’t know why you can’t accept that.” He knew she loved to submit to him at the club or in the bedroom for that matter, but she was opposed to submission in all things on general principles.
“Nik, let’s not argue. I’m not going to give in on this. Let’s have a lovely morning in bed and relax. Did you bring in the Times?” He could tell that she was trying to change the subject, so he gave in for the moment. However, this argument was not nearly over as far as he was concerned. But she did have a point. It was too great of a morning to waste on arguments when he could be buried balls-deep in his sub.