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“Maybe this orgasm denial wasn’t such a good idea.” His finger was so near her that she struggled against her reactions. “Can we renegotiate?”
“It doesn’t work that way. You may safe word out if you want to stop the scene, but deciding you no longer like the rules of this game won’t persuade me to change my mind. Understand?”
She sighed. “Yes, Rafe.” Part of her was glad he’d refused. She didn’t want him to change his mind. She wanted the experience.
“Conference room?” He tugged his hand away from hers. “Lead the way.”
For protection, she reached for her shirt, but he stopped her with a sharp shake of his head.
He was pushing her past a lot of boundaries she hadn’t realized she’d had. The moment she finished having sex with a man, she covered up in a robe or a towel. Once she’d taken the sheet with her when she’d fled to the bathroom after sex.
Barefooted, she walked down the hallway, aware of him right behind her.
She flipped on the conference room light. Before she was ready, he lifted her from the floor to sit on the edge of the table. Even though she wanted to present a picture of composure, she swung one leg back and forth, her body betraying the fact that she was outside her comfort zone.
He swept the audio-visual equipment onto a nearby chair. “Please put your hands behind you.”
Despite his courteous words, it wasn’t a request. She complied, and the position thrust her breasts forward a little. Her nipples were hard, and she was still aroused from the way he’d played with her in the reception area.
He returned to stand in front of her, arms folded, foreboding.
He thrilled her. He scared her.
“Legs farther apart.”
She’d never been more exposed.
“I love seeing your pussy. I’d make you sit like this all the time if you were mine.”
If you were mine. Mesmerized, she fixed her gaze on him. She wasn’t his. This wasn’t real. On some level, it was a mistake. Remember that. Sharing this with him was dangerous, yet she couldn’t flee.
“Now scoot into the middle of the table and lie down.”
Surprising herself, she wiggled back, cool polished wood beneath her bare buttocks.
He removed his jacket, folded it, then placed it underneath her head as a pillow. The scent of him, power and demand, clung to the material.
In his shirtsleeves, the cufflinks winking in the overhead light, he loomed broader, more intimidating.
“Show me how you masturbate.”
Despite the knot of nerves in her stomach threatening to make her jump up and run for her clothes, she reached a hand between her legs. The first, barest brush against her clit made tension crash through her. His touch, his instructions, his dominance, had her dangling on the edge.
“Beautiful. Keep going.”
She closed her eyes, trying to lose herself in the experience, but he interrupted, saying, “I want to see your expression.”
Swallowing a sigh, she opened her eyes. Seeing him watching over her, arms folded like an aristocrat, heightened the naughtiness.
“Part your labia with your left hand.”
She turned her head, then brought it back to center right away.
“At least you won’t need to be spanked for that.”
His sensual threat sent arousal through her.
“You asked whether I’m a sadist. I have to admit I can’t banish the thought of slapping your cunt, making it red and swollen.”
She would have said that was on her limits list, yet she suddenly wanted to experience the burn.
“Spank it for me.”
Hope blinked him into focus. “What?”
“I was going to have you do it once. We’ll make it three times since you hesitated.” When she didn’t react right away, “Shall we make it four?”
“No. No…” She shook her head.
“Five!”
She bit her lower lip as she eased her right hand away from her clit.
“Now six.”
Hope squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of the pain as she tapped her pussy once.
“That didn’t count.” Humor laced his voice. “Hold your labia apart.”
“But that will hurt.”
“That’s rather the point, sweet Hope.”
She did what he had said and gave herself another soft spank.
