Page 27 of His Innocent Seduction

Hell.

‘Michael?’

Jesus. Stop standing here like a statue and do something with the gorgeous woman who’s naked in your room.

I move forward, reaching for the whip, smiling as I lift it to her shoulder and drape it lightly over her skin. She shivers, sucks in a breath. I stare at her lips, knowing I’ll kiss them. Soon. But right now it’s light. Light touch, phantom-like. I move the whip lower, over her breast, the leather tassels separating across her engorged nipples. She whimpers, grinds her hips. I know if I put my hand between her legs she’d be hot and wet. I fight an impulse to do exactly that, drawing the whip to the other breast, swirling the leather over her nipple, so lightly she whimpers.

‘Please.’

‘Please what?’

‘Do it,’ she whispers, the words thick. ‘Use it.’

My fingers curve around the whip, but I continue running it lightly down her body, slowly, gently, until she’s trembling all over.

‘Please.’

‘No.’

I’ve never hit a woman. It’s a hard line for me. I get the difference between sexual play and all-out abuse, but it’s not a line I can easily cross—given my experiences, that’s a no-brainer. Handcuffs though, I laugh to myself. That I apparently have no problems with.

I place the whip aside, grabbing the restraints. I stand behind her a moment, enjoying the view of her naked body, and then I clip one bracelet around her wrist. She shivers. I smile.

I lace my fingers through her hand, pulling her towards the bed. She steps with me, her breath held. At the foot of the bed, I bring her hands to the corner bedpost. ‘Hold on,’ I say, linking the handcuffs around the pole, clicking it to her wrist. ‘Step backwards.’

In order to do so, she has to bend forward at the waist.

‘Further back.’ My voice is barely recognisable, so thick is it with desire and lust.

She does as I ask, bending so she’s at a ninety degree angle.

Fuck. Me.

I run my hands over her ass, holding her where she is, staring at her, wanting her with a passion that almost destroys me. But I’m waiting. Holding myself where I am, jeans in place, body disciplined enough to draw this out. I bring my hand around to her pussy. She’s so wet. I run my fingers between her legs and she groans, wiggling her hips, pushing back so her arse is hard against my cock.

And I wish I weren’t wearing jeans now but isn’t this a little bit about control, patience, testing myself? I lift my other hand to one of her breasts, fondling it, cupping it, and she moans, pulling on her wrists unconsciously so the handcuffs slap against the bed.

She laughs. But it’s a tremulous sound, a sound drenched in feeling.

‘Okay?’

She groans. ‘Yes. But please, please. I want you now, Michael.’

I laugh softly. ‘Impatient.’

She makes a noise that answers that for me. A sound that shows how tired she is of waiting. I run my hands over her faster, teasing her, and she cries my name into the room, her body trembling. But before she comes, I stop, slowing down, pulling my hands away, moving them lightly over her skin. Goosebumps travel in their wake.

‘Bastard,’ she grunts, but there’s a smile in her voice.

‘Yes.’ I reach behind me, curving my fingers over the small vibrator at the bottom of the box. I smile to myself as I approach her once more. ‘Spread your legs.’

She does so, her breathing loud, husky, desperate.

Hot.

I switch the vibrator on, pressing it against her clit and she cries out, my name, and then something indecipherable. Crouching down in front of her, I push the vibrator into her and she moans as it teases her sensitive skin. And then I bring my lips to her clit and I run my mouth over her as the vibrator torments her.

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