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"Versatile stuff," he commented.
"I told you last week I could make you my slave." She let the lead drop from her hand, and hauled his jeans up over his arse.
She knew he could escape. She was playing with him. Maybe she wanted him to break free. The idea pleased him. "Right now it feels as if you are my slave—
I've never been dressed by a woman before."
Humor flickered across her face. "You keep pushing the issue, don't you? I bought your time, get used to it. Anyway, I've never dressed a man before, but don't let it go to your head." He could see the laughter in her expression, even though she was trying to hide it.
"I'm playing your game, madam, but I could have you over on your back in a minute." He was hauling back his male urges to do just that, biding his time until he sensed it was what she really wanted.
"I know." She didn't bat an eyelid. "I'm the boss here. I just want to keep you as my slave for a little bit longer."
You can have me for as long as you like. He knew better than to say it aloud, though, but the urge to do so was there.
She reached for his fly, easing his cock inside his jeans with effort. She chuckled. "Getting this back in here reminds me of Clayton. When you came into the dressing room that night, you caught him in a similar situation."
He cringed, pushing the image out of his mind. "Oh, please, I'll never be able to look either of them in the eye again."
"Believe me, I was much more interested in you than the pair of them. I'd spotted you beforehand and admired your body."
Something swelled inside him. "I wish I'd known that last week."
She shrugged and fastened his shirt, slowly lingering over each button as if she was enjoying the task
Mention of Clayton and Jay reminded him of Jennifer Sandringham and the setup. "Wait a minute. It was Jay who gave you my agent's number. How in the hell did you get that out of him?"
"I shanghaied Clayton, kind of. He wasn't too pleased at first, but I convinced him."
She did the last button then lifted his lead, and twisted it to make it strong. "Come with me. Since you were such a good boy back there on the bed,"—she reached to kiss his mouth, fleetingly—"I'll let you have some nibbles and champagne."
She winked and walked off.
He had no other choice but to follow. At first it felt awkward. He felt like a lumbering fool. Then he looked at the elegant lines of her body moving inside that sheer robe of hers as she walked in front of him. Her posture was perfect, her chin lifted high, a slight smile on her face when she glanced back at him. She was amazing.
He had the urge to get down on his hands and knees and beg her for another taste. He wanted to kiss her from her ankles to the crease beneath her buttocks, and then tongue her inside. Let her take charge, he reminded himself. Yes, until later.
In the sitting room, she'd set the food out on the marble coffee table. The champagne was open and poured. She'd put rock music on the stereo and arranged two of the fur rugs on the floor, one white, one black. She urged him towards them.
He dropped down, immediately wondering what her naked body would look like against the black fur.
Before she joined him, she pulled a condom out of her pocket. Turning it in her fingers, she made sure he was watching, and then she put it on the tray with the food, on the far side out of his immediate reach.
He shook his head, smiling. "You're such a tease."
"Consider it a promise. I didn't want you to think I was being too cruel."
"Maybe just cruel enough..?"
Her eyes sparkled.
He looked up at her, watched the shift of her breasts under the gauzy robe.
She noticed and sat down nearby, smiling to herself. "So, you're an uncle?"
"Just, yes. I've got one sister, Carol, and it's her first. Although she claims she wants a half dozen. God help us all. I think she means it."
"You're a family man?" There was wary curiosity in her expression.
