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22: Selene
My hands tremble and my heart wants to crack my ribs wide open. I pull out my phone and glance at the time. Five fifty-nine. I stand in front of Ronan’s door, waiting to knock. He didn’t say anything about being early, but he did say six on the dot.
I’m not quite sure what I’m getting myself into tonight, but his little chat with me after the meeting had me almost panting with desire. I think my game in the conference room might have worked too well. He watched me like a predator sizing up his prey, his gray eyes so intense I was sure anyone who looked at him could read his (very dirty) thoughts.
After the meeting, I went back to my office, my vision blurry, and pretended to work until I could leave. The throbbing between my legs hasn’t let up since, and I almost got myself off in the shower when I was getting ready. I stopped, though. I want him to do it. I want to come to him hot and wet and ready.
None of which is going to be a problem.
Six o’clock. I knock on his door.
He opens it, dressed to the nines in a slate-gray suit, complete with tie. I feel a momentary pang of disappointment. Are we going out? We’re meeting Braxton and Kylie for drinks later, but maybe he wants dinner first. I’m not really dressed up—I’m wearing a fluttery gold halter top with distressed jeans and the heels I wore to work—and I wonder if I missed a text from him, telling me what the plan is for tonight.
His eyes rove up and down and he steps aside, gesturing for me to come in. He closes the door behind me and grabs my wrist.
“Are you ready for this, my naughty girl?” he says into my ear.
I gasp a little breath, and my back tightens. Maybe he doesn’t want to go out. “Yes.”
His lips brush my neck. “If I do anything you don’t like tonight, tell me to stop, and I will. You’re safe with me.”
I swallow hard and nod. He steps away, letting go of my arm.
“You seem to have forgotten that I’m the boss,” he says, his voice going icy cold. “I’m in charge. From this moment forward, you will not speak unless I tell you. You will not move unless I tell you, and you will move only as instructed. Is that clear?”
I nod again, practically shivering, and bite the inside of my lip. My panties are completely drenched already, and he’s barely touched me.
“You thought your little game in the conference room was fun, didn’t you?” he asks, taking slow steps in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.
He didn’t tell me to speak, so I wait, my eyes locked on his face.
Instantly, he’s right in front of me, his hand an iron grip on the back of my neck. “That was very naughty, Selene. You made my cock so hard I couldn’t think. All I wanted was the feel of your skin. The taste of your pussy. The heat of your body. I can’t work like that, dirty girl. I lost my whole afternoon to fantasizing about what I’m going to do to you.”
He pulls his hand away, sliding it along the base of my jaw. I want to grab his tie and force his mouth to mine, but he didn’t tell me to move, and I’m determined to play his game.
“Good,” he says, holding my eyes. “Come in.”
He walks into his condo and I follow. The lights are low, and soft music drifts from the speakers. It would be a relaxing scene, but for the fire racing through my body.
Ronan stands a few feet in front of me and puts his hands in his pockets. “Strip.”
I try not to smile—I’m not sure if I’m allowed—and put my purse down on a side table. Slowly, I reach behind my neck and unfasten the clasp that holds up my shirt. I pull it over my head and let it drop to the floor. Ronan watches me, unmoving, but I can see the hunger in his eyes. I unzip my jeans and slide them down.
“Leave the shoes.”
It’s a little awkward getting my jeans over my heels, but I manage to do it while still feeling like a sex goddess. I stand in front of him, wearing only my lacy strapless bra and matching thong. He raises an eyebrow and I reach back, unhooking my bra, and let it drop. Then I slide my fingers beneath the waist of my thong and push it slowly down my legs, kicking it off when it gets to my feet.
I stand up again, naked save for my shoes. He licks his lips.
“Touch your nipples,” he says. “Slowly.”
My mouth drops open, but I comply, rubbing my fingers over my nipples, and feel them harden.
“Slide your hands down,” he says. “That’s it, dirty girl. All the way down.”
I move my hands down my body to my hips, and angle them in.
“Keep going,” he says. “Touch yourself.”
