Page 24 of At His Beck & Call

I remove each item methodically and carefully, trying to keep Beth’s words in my head as I go.

“You’re not ugly, Lissa. An ugly man told you that in order to control you and make sure you never understood how incredible you are. You’re beautiful. Always have been.”

My fingers are shaking, but I ignore them as I pull off everything. I had intended to keep my bra and panties on, but somehow leaving that for another day is even more terrifying than getting fully naked now. He’s going to see me naked at some point—may as well be today.

His face is impassive as he watches me, and I can’t look at him. I’m exposed and vulnerable, standing in front of the chair, my clothes in a pile on top of my shoes. I resist the urge to cover my torso with my arms and instead, clasp my hands behind my back.

I’m so pale compared to him. He has an olive skin tone, and I wonder if he’s part Italian. I hate how pale I am.

“Thank you,” he says, in the same quiet tone. “Would you turn around now?”

I do, trying to keep my breathing even.

“Beautiful.”

I hold back the scoff that threatens to break from my lips. I’m not beautiful, but maybe he’s saying it to put me at ease.

After I’ve spun in a complete circle, I turn back to face him.

Gradually, as if he’s trying not to spook a skittish wild animal, he rises and walks behind me, picking up my chair and placing it out of the way against the wall. I stand, listening to his movements, hearing the sound of his clothing being removed, wondering what he wants to do to me.

Then he returns to stand in front of me, his jacket off, but his shirt still on. I run my eyes over his huge chest. He’s stunning, built like granite, and ridiculously tall. I’m barely as high as his collarbone.

“I’d like to make you feel good,” he says, his hand coming up to curl a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “How does that sound?”

I chew my lip, nodding my head, without any real clue what that means.

The backs of his fingers skim down my cheek and onto my neck. Then, they move further down, brushing over the curve of my breast before his thumb and forefinger pinch my nipple, very, very gently. A stirring of something rises inside me, but mostly I just feel nerves biting at the inside of my stomach.

“Alright?” he asks.

I nod, and then he walks away. On the far side of the room is a sculpture. It’s bronze like everything else in the space, but as I look at it, I realize that the shape of it is somewhat strange.

The sculpture is balanced on something protruding from the wall. It looks like wings in flight, the base of them forming a V against the wall.

He grasps the sculpture, lifting it off the wings and placing it on the floor. Then, he stands back up and does something I can’t see. There’s the sound of metal being moved and unlocked.

Turning, he holds out a hand to me. I go to him, curious enough that I’m not as self-conscious about my nudity anymore, and I frown at him as I see what he’s done.

The winged shape that was holding the sculpture has been moved outward from the wall, and it’s not so muchwingsnow that I’m looking at it up close. It’s more like two U’s side by side with a soft cushioning fabric on top of a wider platform at the base. I stare at it, still confused as hell, and then Oliver’s hands go to my waist.

“I‘ll show you,” he says, and I suck in a breath as he lifts me effortlessly up and then deposits me on top of the thing. My thighs fall neatly into the valley of each shape, my back connecting with the wall, leaving my legs splayed, my ass supported, and my body open to him in a way that makes me both terrified and incredibly intrigued.

“Hm, very nice,” he says in a deep low voice, stepping back to look at me. “If you need to, you can hang onto the handles beneath you.”

My fingers reach down automatically, wanting something to grip, and my palms close on the two cold metal handles.

He has this in his office in plain sight. For anyone to look at, never knowing what its true purpose is. Holy shit.

Then Oliver lowers to his knees and looks up at me, his eyebrow quirked. “I’m going to taste you, and I want you to try and relax. Do you think you can do that, Lissa?”

I make a little sound involuntarily and then give the tiniest nod.

He leans in between my legs, his tongue tracing a long line up my body with no warning and an intensity that makes me jolt violently back.

Instantly, his hands come up to grip my thighs as he sucks at my clit, and a surprise yelp falls from my lips. It’s been years,yearssince James did this, and never with as much skill.

I’m panting before I’m aware of it, the small of my back pushing down into the soft seat beneath as he licks at me, his tongue pushinginsidemy body as he groans low at the back of his throat.