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He took a sip of his wine, eyeing her as she crossed and uncrossed her legs.
“It’s not easy for you, is it? Blonde, pretty, extraordinarily intelligent.”
Something akin to relief hit her. “No, it isn’t.” She smiled, genuinely appreciating his words. He really had been observing her.
“What do you usually do, when you bring a man home for sex?” He said it as if he was discussing the weather, and glanced around the open-plan living area, as if the furniture could tell tales.
“Oh, fast, dirty sex, nothing prolonged in terms of involvement. I don’t have time.” She pushed her heavy hair back from her face, watching for his response. It was the truth. What would he think of her?
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Really?”
“Perhaps you should make time.”
“Perhaps I should.” Where was he going with this?
“How many times do you reach orgasm, when you have ‘fast, dirty sex’?”
It felt as if the temperature had risen dramatically. “That’s a rather intimate question.”
“I mean to be intimate with you, Lois.”
He wasn’t kidding. His provocative questioning had her entire skin prickling. “Once, mostly,” she replied eventually.
He nodded. “I’d like to see you come more than once. You deserve better than that.”
If he’d wanted to grab her attention, he’d certainly found the way. Up until that moment she could have turned away, asked him to leave. Not now. Not anymore.
“There’s a determination about you that fascinates me,” he continued. “You stalk after everything. If we were living in a primitive world, you would be a powerful huntress.”
She smiled at the image, loving it. “Very amusing, but what’s your point?”
“My point is that even powerful women can learn by pacing themselves.” He ran one finger around the rim of his wineglass. “You might benefit from restraint.”
Her sex clenched. The nape of her neck felt damp. “You’re suggesting bondage?” She let her gaze wander over his body: bulky with muscle, his expensive clothing barely concealed his obvious strength. Being under him would be quite something.
He shook his head. “No. I’m talking about a different kind of restraint altogether. Will power. I enjoy seeing you battle with your energies, using and controlling your power in the workplace. Whether it’s in the boardroom or elsewhere, your desires are only just harnessed. You’re a powerful woman, but it’s as if you’re always on the edge of losing control. And that is such a turn-on.”
Breathing had become difficult. More than that, his words about willpower struck a note with her, and she recognized herself in what he said. She had never thought about it that way, but yes. He was right.
He smiled and it was filled with dangerous charm. “I’m enjoying watching you now; you’re racked with sexual tension. I can almost touch it.” He moved his hand, as if he was touching her from where he sat. “Your eyes are dilated, slightly glazed. Your body is restless, your movements self-conscious, jumpy; your skin is flushed. Your nipples are hard.”
She took a gulp of wine. The way he described her was sending her cunt into overdrive.
He loosened his tie. “You’ve been squirming on that seat for the last five minutes. I’d put money on your underwear being very, very damp.”
Her skin raced with sensation, the thrill of his words touching her every inch of skin, inside and out. She wanted to fuck. Now. But he was making her sit there and listen, controlling her with his intimate, knowing words.
His glance dropped to her cleavage. She realized her fingers were toying with the button there. She clutched it tight, stilling her hand, and bit her lip.
“Be careful, you’ll draw blood.”
He didn’t miss a thing.
“How wet are you, Lois?”
She squirmed on her chair, desperate for contact, her eyes closing as she replied. “Wet, very wet.” She stifled a whimper.
