Table for Two, Please: A Daring Domination at Dinner

A high-society dinner takes a daring turn as my husband’s possessive gaze and whispered commands ignite a thrilling game of submission. How far can I go before the whole room notices?

Dinner at an upscale restaurant should be elegant and refined—but not tonight. With his possessive gaze locked on me, my husband whispers commands that turn the evening into a tantalizing display of power and submission. Beneath the pristine tablecloth, his touch pushes me to thrilling, daring heights, while the risk of discovery in a room full of high-society elites sends shivers of excitement down my spine.

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Chapter 1

From the moment we stepped into the restaurant, I could feel his eyes on me—possessive and proud. The dim lighting and rich wood-paneled walls screamed luxury, wrapping us in an aura of sophistication and exclusivity. It was the kind of place where everyone knew you were someone important by the clothes you wore, the way you carried yourself, and frankly just by getting a reservation. I was thrilled to be here, on his arm, under my husband’s gaze, completely his. This was someplace I had always dreamed of.

Trent leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. “Keep your head high, darling,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding. “You belong to me. I want everyone to know it.”

A shiver of excitement rippled through me, his words sending a delicious heat straight to my core and I instinctively fingered the gold rope necklace brushing my collar bones. It seemed quite fitting for the symbol of his commitment to me and his role in my life to lay nuzzled next to the very bones that bore the same name.

Yet, my collar was something I didn’t need because my husband had this way of making me feel powerful and beautiful and utterly his. But in our community, it was a symbol more powerful than the wedding ring I wore. My collar signified I was Trent’s in every sense of the word.

As the maître d’ greeted us, I caught the flicker of the man’s gaze dropping to my cleavage before quickly returning to meet my eyes. The brief moment was enough to send a flush of pride through me. I was exactly what my husband wanted—his perfect prize. And the thrill of knowing he was watching made it even better.

I could already feel the eyes on me as we moved through the room. The quiet clicks of my heels on the marble floor, the soft sway of my hips had heads turning. I kept my head high, my gaze forward, just as he’d instructed, but I could sense their attention lingering on me.

The strapless black dress Trent had chosen clung to every curve, hugging my body in all the right places added to ogles, I’m sure. Its neckline dipped just low enough to tease, leaving the swell of my breasts on full display without crossing the line of decorum too much. Classy, but with that wicked edge that made my heart race. My husband loved it when people looked—when they stared—and he loved even more knowing that I was his, that no one else could ever have me.

We were led to a round booth in the far corner, draped in rich burgundy table linen, perfect for privacy but with a clear view of the entire room. It was all part of my husband’s plan. He didn’t just want to admire me—he wanted everyone else to as well. And he loved watching other men crave what they could never have—me.

“Slide in, darling,” he murmured softly.

I slid into the booth, my back straight, positioned exactly as he liked—facing out, where everyone could see me. The dress shifted as I sat, revealing even more of my breasts. I bit my lip, feeling the flush rise in my cheeks as I settled into place. His eyes were on me the entire time, full of that possessive pride that never failed to make my heart race.

He slid in next to me, close enough that the heat of his body made my pulse quicken. His thigh pressed against mine, a subtle claim that sent a jolt of electricity through me. Every inch of him was perfection—the sharp lines of his jaw, the confident set of his shoulders, the way his suit hugged his powerful frame. And knowing he was mine made my heart swell with love and desire.

A black bow-tied waiter appeared, offering menus, but I didn’t bother to look. Trent always ordered for me. It was part of our dynamic, part of the trust I had in him. And I loved it—loved the way he took control, even over the small things.

“Do you have any preferences tonight?” he asked, his teasing smile making my stomach flip.

“Surprise me,” I replied softly.

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