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“What do I want? I want to do things like that, indulge on my sexual whims. I want to experience everything I feel I’ve been missing. I want to try it all and tonight I think I want you.” Honest, bold and barely able to keep my shaking hands from showing, I kept his intense gaze. “But mostly I want to find out what I want.”
He seemed slightly stunned and even more amused. I’d made a fool of myself. I quickly grabbed my bag and stood. “I can see I’m wasting your time.”
“Come with me.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. My core clenched and I felt the dampness from my now soaked panties as I followed him down a long hall behind the bar. I watched his confident walk, he was much taller than my 5’9” and I loved it. I felt the anticipation building, overjoyed at the thoughts racing through me. He led me into an office, shut the door behind us, and walked to sit behind a desk, gesturing for me to do the same.
“What is this?” I asked, looking around the spacious room.
“My office,” he answered without further explanation. Ah, so he owned the bar. Nice, this wasn’t an inexperienced man. This excited me.
He sat behind his desk, watching me carefully. My sex clenched again at the weight of his stare. What the hell was going on here? We sat in silence as he watched me sit
, legs crossed and muscles clenching nervously as I fidgeted with my bag.
“I’ll make you an offer,” he said, placing his hands on his desk. “I’ll help you explore your boundaries and figure out just what it is you want, and in return, you follow a few simple rules.”
I shifted in my seat, my growing need outweighing my ability to reason, even though his offer didn’t seem unreasonable. The sweat between my legs mixing with the unhappy ache was enough to make me agree to anything. Still, I had to ask, “And the rules are?”
“Everything you have at home, throw it out. No books, no toys, no other partners. I become everything you need sexually. No exceptions.”
“That’s a lot to ask of someone you’ve only just met, not to mention it throws a wrench in my plans,” I said nonchalantly.
“Which were?”
“Delve into all areas BDSM, fuck a professional, maybe a ménage. I kind of want to try it all.” To this I got another smirk, but had no shame in my admission.
“And you can do all of those things with me. But you won’t know the when or the who, and you’ll find out quickly you’ll be fucking a professional.” His tone was dead serious. I believed him. This was definitely safer than allowing random, willing strangers to violate me. One partner, one person to show me the ropes, suddenly seemed more appealing than going in blind.
“And you are so sure you can fill my every need?”
He raised a brow as if to say “Are you kidding?” but humored me. “Violet, I am far from the adventurous man I once was, but even being half that man, I can get the job done.”
“Wow, that’s quite a bold statement. And will you be monogamous as well?”
A sharp nod was his answer. He gave me a heartbeat to absorb his response then said, “Take off your dress.” When I hesitated, he started in, “Don’t fear me, Violet. I never do a thing to hurt a woman. This is about pleasure. I don’t want you to feel anything but safe with me.”
I was up in seconds, bared to him. I stood naked before a man I had met only minutes earlier. I had to admit, it was fucking hot, and the part of me that protested what was left of my innocence was being beaten down by my determination. He appraised me carefully, studying my every curve, taking in my chest, letting his eyes drift to the swollen wet mess between my thighs.
“You’re wet now.”
“Yes,” I breathed, barely able to control the tingle escaping my every pore.
“Come here,” he said, turning in his chair to point to the empty space beside him. I walked over slowly, standing inches from him between his parted legs as my body begged for his touch.
“Spread your legs.” I parted my legs as he studied my sex. He took a single finger and skimmed the surface, covering the tip of my clit as I cried out. My nipples peaked as I watched his eyes wander back up to mine.
“You are absolutely beautiful. Go get dressed,” he said, dismissing me, turning back to face the door in his chair.
My heart sank, my sex screamed, and my mouth let out an immediate protest. “But I thought—”
“Trust me,” he said, his jaw clenching tightly. What the fuck was going on here? I had barely stepped into my dress, frustrated, and furious when his next question came. “Are you on birth control?”
“Yes,” I clipped tightly.
“Make an appointment with your OB, get a full screen and come back in a week.”
“And just why the hell would I do that?” I snapped, zipping up my dress and catching his eyes watching it happen.
“Because I only fuck bare.” His voice was dangerously low. My pulse picked up as I watched him closely. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes told me that I wasn’t alone in my frustration. “I’ll have the same results when you come back. Also, I’ve had a vasectomy, but I prefer you keep your method as well.”
