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She closed her eyes and recalled the thrill she’d experienced when he’d first approached her. The attraction between them had existed from their first introduction. Then one day he’d spoken to her privately as he’d been leaving her office, and he’d reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing it with his lips before releasing it. Before she’d had a chance to react or to speak, he looked into her eyes. “I’m here for you. If you want me, just let me know.”
She’d been shocked, and undeniably aroused. His hand touched her back briefly. It made her skin sizzle and the pit of her stomach fluttered eagerly. She’d longed for his hand at her back more firmly. Then he’d smiled and turned away, leaving her breathless and clinging to her door handle—awash with physical and emotional feelings that she’d thought long buried.
For a whole three days she’d resisted, debating whether it was right or wrong, while her body heated as she imagined what it might be like to be with a man like him, one who seemed so confident and knowing. She’d been single for ages, after being married young to a man who didn’t respect her choice of career. They’d split after three years of disagreeing about what her role in his life should be. After that she’d grown a thicker hide and vowed herself to her job. It was lonely, and sometimes she’d had a fling. Never with anyone she worked with though, and never for very long. And now Giles said he wanted to keep her in his
bed, overnight. A younger man with a taste for exotic sex.
Imogen sighed deeply and stared out of her office window, trying to ignore the corridors of power that surrounded her and her obligation to all of that. She had to keep her head—she couldn’t afford to mess up playing with a colleague. What had been a friendly arrangement about sex had morphed into something else. The kinky sex made her think he played the field and it was going to burn out in due course. Now she wasn’t sure what to think, especially because it was he who was asking the heavy questions. She turned back to her desk.
“Is it just a game?” he’d asked her.
No, it meant more, a lot more. She’d fallen for him, but she wasn’t ready to say that yet. It was too hard. Reaching into the box, she pulled out the sample. Was this the next step, would this bring her closer to freedom?
Running the slender hemp rope through her fingers, she let her imagination run with images of ritualized erotic sex, characterized by domination and submission. Pleasure was what he gave her. Giles was the best lover she’d ever had. Only fear was stopping her from discovering what it would be like to give him that level of control during lovemaking. That was what this was about. He’d offered her sex and she’d gone after it. Risk assessment? He just wanted to play. Her lover was a thirty-two-year-old man and she, at forty, just had to enjoy the hot sex while it lasted. She would regret it if she never tried what he was offering. She could stand the thought of being alone, but not with regrets. Hell, at least I’ll have the sexy memories.
The sample was less than three feet long, but long enough for her to hold and turn in her hands. The rope was soft to the touch but when pulled taut it became firm and strong. With one heel on the floor she shifted her seat from side to side, edgy with arousal as she considered it. Then she put the rope against the hemline of her knee-length skirt, and pulled the skirt up with the rope. Her sex ached, desire flaring wildly, taking her over. She rode the string up as far as her stocking tops, to the place where the tops of her thighs were bare. The rope made her skin tingle wildly, and her clit throbbed.
The need to touch herself became urgent.
With her hand inside her panties she squeezed and rubbed her clit, the rope Giles had sent her clenched inside her palm. What am I doing? she wondered, feeling dangerously out of control. She had her hand under her skirt and she was touching herself, in her office. She’d never done that before, but Giles had driven her to it. As she brought herself to climax, the rub of the rope across her tender flash seemed to mock her for her earlier resistance.
What would Giles do with the rope?
I have to know.
* * *
By the time she arrived on his doorstep she could scarcely keep her breathing level. She’d wanted to run straight over to his place, but she’d ordered herself an hour to cool off. In the end she’d managed to wait all of thirty-five minutes, but it was an important time, time to get her thoughts in order. Or as much in order as possible, given the circumstances. Her emotions still swung wildly and she was torn between the desperate need to be there and see it through, and the urge to take flight. She rapped on the door before she could change her mind. All I have to do is enjoy the sex.
After a few moments the door swung open and Giles stood there. “You came.”
“Yes. I came.” Now show me.
His mouth lifted at one corner and he nodded. Not smugly though. It was just an acknowledgement, for which she was grateful. He leaned one shoulder up against the door frame. His hair was wet and he wore jeans and a casual T-shirt that clung to his chest as if he’d just got out of the shower and his skin was still damp. To all intents and purposes he was totally chilled, but the glint in his eye as he assessed her was both predatory and stimulating.
One hand tightened on the strap of her shoulder bag, the other went to the button on her jacket, locking onto it. He watched her every movement, as if each and every thing she did was important to him. Nervous butterflies gathered in her stomach. It wasn’t just that he was attractive and powerful-looking. He had that elusive quality of a man in control. It made her self-aware. Mostly she forgot herself in her daily duties. Giles did not allow her to forget she was a woman, one with needs. And yet he looked as if nothing would ruffle him. Ultimate control — how could she not admire that?
He closed on her. Arousal pulled heavily inside her, heating her body through, making her skin sizzle and her fingertips twitch. He held her gaze, not allowing her to look away. Tension filled the air, clinging around them like static. He was reading her. He knew she’d opened the box and that she’d come here willingly. She felt it, and it set loose a wild fluttering at her center. The recognition was there in his expression. She saw desire there too. It was blatant, raw and incredibly powerful. He wanted her, and he was glad she’d come to him.
“You’re ready to take this to the next level?” His voice was low.
She nodded.
He put one finger under her chin, looking deep into her eyes. In that one touch he conveyed his authority. It made her wet. “You’re going to have to get used to me looking at you if there’s going to be rope involved.” Then he moved closer still, so close she could feel his breath on her face, and he ran the backs of his knuckles down the front of her throat, stroking her skin as if he were admiring her. “You’re going to look so good adorned in rope.”
She shifted from one foot to the other, the touch of his hand making her nerve endings go crazy. A muted gasp escaped her lips, and he caught her stare, holding it. They were on a precipice, she could feel it.
Giles shifted his shoulders, rolling them as if he was limbering up. His rising passion was palpable in the air around them. That made her realize that he’d been holding something of himself back, just as she had. Her legs went weak under her as she considered that he hadn’t even begun with her. “Giles, please…I confess that I’m a little afraid.”
“Don’t be.” His eyes shone darkly, as if he relished her confession.
It made her pussy tighten with anticipation.
“I’m here to look after you. I think I know what you need, but if I ever do anything you don’t want, just tell me.”
Imogen swallowed then nodded. She knew his sense of justice wouldn’t let him take advantage of her, not unless it was what she wanted. Then his fingers moved beneath her hair, and he pulled her in against him, kissing her hungrily.
She heard the thud of her bag as it fell to the floor. Her hands locked around his head as she gave herself over to him. With urgent fingers he hitched up her skirt, grasping her bottom in his hands, pushing aside the flimsy fabric of her panties so that he could touch her skin. Mercifully she heard the door click shut. He lifted her from her feet, pressing her back against the wall as he held her easily. She grappled with one hand for the skirt, hitching it higher still so that she could wrap her legs around his hips. As she did, he ducked his head to kiss her throat. Her head fell back against the wall and she circled her hips, making contact with the bulky erection inside his jeans. His teeth grazed her throat before he shifted and arranged her in his arms. She clung to him gratefully as he carried her into the bedroom.
