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I stifle a moan and I run my fist up and down, giving a little twist at my swollen head. I imagine it’s her hand doing the work, pleasuring me. Exploring me. Pulling the tip of me to her willing, open lips. My balls are tight. Achy. Never mind that I rubbed one out in the shower this morning, trying to make sure I kept my desires in check.
So much for that.
“Owen, uh... James...” She loses the role play for a moment, her voice ragged-edged with need. “I need you to stop that so we can properly start testing.”
I release myself, reluctantly. But it’s clear she was watching me for a while before she told me to stop. I can hear it in her voice. Dirty girl.
“Anything else I should refrain from doing?” I ask, letting my words come out slow and lazy.
“Just follow my orders,” she replies. “If I don’t tell you to do something, then don’t do it.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hannah
I’MSOOUTof my depth. I can only hope my voice sounds more commanding than I feel. Because right now, I want to melt into a puddle at Owen’s feet.
His body is a masterpiece. Hard sculpted muscle shapes his arms, shoulders, legs and abs. A dusting of blond hair creates a delectable trail from his bellybutton all the way down to...
God. I can’t tear my eyes away. Of course he’s perfect everywhere. Watching him touch himself, watching those slightly rough, strong tugs and the way the swollen head of his erection poked out the top of his fist... Let’s be real, I’m already a puddle.
“We’re going to start with scent,” I say. I’ve found a bowl of fruit in the kitchenette and I’ve selected an orange. I press my fingernail into the flesh, piercing it. The ripe scent of the fruit’s flesh comes through. “What can you smell?”
I bring the orange under his nose, trying hard not to think about how I want to rush through this and sink straight to my knees so I can take him in my mouth.
“Hmm, fruity.” His voice is roughed up, desire-laden. God, it makes my toes curl in these ridiculously high heels. If a man can have that effect with his voice, what will happen when he finally touches me? “Citrus. Orange or mandarin.”
“Very good.” I’ve collected a few items for us to use in this role play: a glass of chilled water, a fork and an individually wrapped chocolate. A condom that I’d stashed in my purse...just in case. “How about taste?”
I peel back the rind from the orange and extract a small piece of flesh. Coaxing his mouth open with my thumb, I wriggle the fruit between his lips. He readily accepts it.
“Definitely orange.”
The chocolate is next. I unwrap the foil and see something flicker over his face—like he’s trying to figure out what the sound is. But I don’t give him any clues. Instead, I pop the chocolate into my mouth and take my time enjoying the small, decadent moment. Then I press into him, bringing my lips to his, and he responds hungrily. The taste of chocolate mixes with the orange he’s just consumed.
“Tastes like a Jaffa,” he says, bringing his strong arms around me. “So sweet.”
“Not yet,” I rasp, pulling out of his grip. I want to draw this out—because I have the power now. I’m in charge.
And the second he gets his hands on me I’m going to fold like a house of cards.
“Am I not a good test subject?”
“You’re not very good at following instructions.” I pick up the fork and press the spiked end into his thigh—not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to elicit a response. His erection twitches and his hands ball by his sides. “How is your sense of touch?”
“Heightened.” His voice is wire-tight.
I trail the fork over his chest, letting the metal scrape lightly against his skin. I imagine the contrast feels good—a little pain, followed by something softer. I press my lips to his neck, breathing in the faded scent of cologne on his skin. Sucking so the blood rises to the surface.
The soft imprint of lipstick fills me with a sense of warm possessiveness—like I’ve claimed him. Marked him.
“If you want this to last more than five fucking seconds, you’re going about it all wrong, Hannah.” He speaks softly, the growling sound like a fine blade along my nerve endings, making my body sing. “I’m breaking character to tell you that.”
“We’re almost there,” I purr, emboldened by the effect I’m having on him.
I’m not quite done toying with him. I step back and watch him for a moment, let my eyes have their fill. Then I bring my hands to the zipper that runs down the side of my body, keeping my dress in place. I drag it down slowly, letting the sound slice through the air. Then I shed the garment, making a show of dropping it to the ground.
“What can you hear?” I ask him.
