His Slave

25. No Coffee

I try to sleep on the floor again. I swear I really try. But, my back is stiff and my elbows and knees are sore. Not to mention, I'm tired of waking up with a headache every morning.

If I spend another night on the floor I'm probably going to permanently throw out my back. Or something. I could go sleep on the sofa, but I don't think James would be very happy with me, and I'm not trying to get punished.

I stare up at his bed, at the excess of pillows and blankets longingly. It's been twelve days since I slept in a real bed, if you could even call my old bed that.

Is it really worth it to give him what he wants?

My hips ache with pain in protest.

Hardwood is definitely not an optimal surface to sleep on.

An enormous king-sized bed is.

If I ask to sleep in his bed James will never let me live this down.

But if I don't get some decent rest I might die of sleep deprivation! Okay, maybe I won't die, but I'll probably keep getting more tired and sore.

Maybe I should brave at least one more night. I readjust myself on the floor and pain shoots up my neck. I suck in a breath finally deciding that I absolutely cannot take this another night.

I sit up, working some of the kinks out of my shoulders and neck before standing up. The lights turn on just enough to where I can make out the sleeping figure in the darkness. I hope he doesn't mind being woken up.

"Master?" I whisper, waiting for an answer. Nothing.

"Master?" I call again, a little louder this time. There's a bit of movement, but no indication that he heard me.

"Master?" I say a third time, even louder.

James turns over to face me, his violet eyes staring me down in the dark. "Yes, Erin?" He asks, his voice heavy with sleep.

I hold his gaze for a long moment before finally getting up the courage to speak the words. "I give up," I say quietly.

"You give up what?" He asks, sitting up and rubbing his face before meeting my gaze again.

I bite my lip, having to fight to get the words out. "Sleeping on the floor. I can't handle another night," I tell him, my words laced with embarrassment.

James gives me that devilish smirk just like I knew he would. "So, the little slave finally gives in, does she?" he remarks with a condescending laugh.

I can feel the heat rising on my cheeks and I'm grateful we're shrouded in darkness. "Yes," I reply so quietly that I'm not sure he hears me.

"I have to say, I'm impressed. Lasting eleven nights on hardwood floors is more than I could handle," he commends. "Probably more than a lot of people could handle."

"Um," I stutter, not knowing what to say to that.

James quirks an eyebrow at me. "When I give you a compliment I expect a thank you," he says, just a hint of irritation in his words.

"Thank you, Master," I reply softly. "I'm sorry that I forgot."

He nods, accepting my apology. "Well, come on," he tells me, lifting the covers up.

After a moment, I crawl into his bed, being instantly enveloped in absolute comfort. The mattress is like a giant marshmallow. The sheets are silky and smooth and cool against my skin. Oh. What have I been missing? Maybe I should have surrendered sooner. I lay down at the edge of the bed, but James shakes his head.