Free Playing for Real: Paolo's Playhouse, Book 5 by Natasha Moore

struggling to compartmentalize her life. “I’m not sure what to say when people ask if we’re dating.”
    “Are we not dating? Is this not a date?”
    “Yes, but we’re something different.”
    “Are we? Do we know what any other couple does behind closed doors?” he asked softly. “Did you talk to your family and friends about your sexual exploits with other boyfriends?”
    “No.” Not that she’d had any sexual exploits with any other guy to rival those she’d had with Paolo. “I still don’t know how to reconcile our desires with the rest of our lives.”
    “Come here.” Paolo drew her onto his lap. Her legs straddled his hips, her wide skirt hiked up to her hips. He pulled her arms behind her back, wrapped one hand around her wrists. Her sex tingled with delight. “If we did not have our play dates, I would still dominate you. You would still let me. True?”
    She licked her lips. Nodded.
    “The things we do during our play dates are no one else’s business. What we do on a picnic in the woods is no one’s business either.”
    She couldn’t help but think about what Stacey had said. “It’s not that simple.”
    He tightened his grip on her wrists. “Why does it have to be complicated?”
    Maybe it didn’t have to be. When she’d dated Bill and asked him to tie her up, she didn’t tell anyone before she screwed up the courage to make the request, or after when he turned her down in horror. At least now she found a man who was eager to indulge her desires. All she had to do was submit to his.
    “So we’re boyfriend and girlfriend to anyone who asks?” But could she ever admit it to someone like Stacey?
    “Of course.”
    “When it’s just you and me…” Julianne took a deep breath, looked into his eyes, admitted what she’d begun to accept. “When it’s you and me, I get it.” Sitting on his lap, her wrists bound by his fingers, she could understand the way they could interact on dinner dates. “It’s when I think about the rest of the world that I get confused.”
    “Do not think about them. Only think about us.” He yanked her closer, crushed his lips to hers. His passion drove hers higher. She squirmed on his lap, his erection hard against her sex. He nipped her bottom lip. “Do not squirm.”
    “Sorry.”
    “We eat before we indulge.”
    “You mean I have to clean my plate before I can have dessert?”
    Paolo laughed. “Exactly.” He released her wrists and eased her off his lap. She reached toward the basket and he stopped her. “Sit. Put your hands behind your back.”
    “What?” she asked, even as she tucked her hands into the small of her back.
    “I will feed you.”
    Her hands dropped to her sides. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
    “I will feed you,” he repeated, his tone lower, darker. “I can tie your wrists, cara , but I had hoped you could manage this simple command on your own.”
    She slowly returned her hands behind her back. She hated it when he sounded disappointed in her.
    “I know you can feed yourself,” he said as he took covered dishes out of the basket. “I want to do this. It is a simple way I can indulge my desire to take care of you. I realize you want to fight me whenever I say I want to do this.”
    “I don’t mean to fight you,” she said softly. “I’m still trying to get used to this.”
    “I know.”
    As he uncovered the dishes, he revealed strips of cold chicken, diced cheese, green grapes. Neither of them spoke as he shared the meal with her. At first she felt a little foolish as she let him do something she was perfectly capable of doing. But as he slowly slipped the food between her lips, holding her gaze, smiling at her, stroking her hair, she began to feel cherished. Her body warmed, softened, relaxed.
    Maybe there was something to this being-taken-care-of stuff.
    By the time they finished eating, the sun was setting. Paolo returned the dishes to the basket. Julianne left her hands behind her back and watched him