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“I’ll do it. One hour.”
“Whatever I say?”
“Y-yes.”
Ellis clapped his hands, the sharp sound startling me. “Excellent!”
He rose then, and I peered up at him, suddenly feeling even more the marked size difference between the two of us. Moving closer, until he loomed over me, he offered his hand. “Stand up, Ms. Grant.”
Though reluctant, I put my hand in his, pleased at both the warmth of his touch and the roughness of his palm. I’d expected smoother hands from a man like him. I rather liked being wrong about that.
Rising to my feet, I stood before him that way for a moment, our gazes locked, a strange tension rising in the room by the second.
“Now, Ms. Grant. I want you to take your clothes off. All of them.”
CHAPTER7
Ellis
The next few seconds would determine the scope and nature of what was to possibly happen between Lola and me.
She gazed at me for a long moment, her striking eyes watching me closely, as if to ascertain what it was Ireallyintended.
Truthfully at that moment, all I’d set out to do was to get a good idea of the body she was hiding under those clothes. The day I’d walked up to her as she’d bent over to vacuum my stairs, I’d gotten a fine glimpse at the mouthwatering shape of her lush bottom, the pleasing broadness of her hips. They were the kind of hips that made a man think of one thing above all else—putting a baby in his woman, breeding her. Making her swell with the irrefutable evidence of his dominion over her body in that most elemental, primitive of ways.
“Why do you… why do you want me to take my clothes off?”
It was a delaying tactic, of course. We both knew.
I decided not to answer, instead staring at her, not letting her see any hint of emotion or intent.
Thiswasa test, of sorts. Obedience was the paramount characteristic in women I thought might have inclinations toward being the kind of woman I sought nowadays. Yes, she was clearly too young for me. But there was little I could do to resist her beauty, and that difference in age only amplified my interest. It was new and interesting—and it was something I’d never experienced before, taking and molding a woman much younger than me.
What Iwascertain of was that the training of her to my desires and requirements would be much easier, less polluted by her experience, the assumptions that her relationships with too many previous men might have saddled her with.
I couldn’t help but wonder about that, the other men who’d had her. How they’d used that body, and how she’d reacted to that use. So many questions.
But before we could get to any of that there was the simplest—and most important—of attributes that I needed to ascertain first.
Obedience.
I sighed, narrowing my eyes just the slightest bit, suddenly putting pressure on her. Part of this, too, was seeing how she reacted to that pressure, whether or not she folded underneath it, or blossomed into the woman I hoped she might be.
Fortunately, she seemed to respond in the way I was hoping, her finger already fiddling with the hem of her shirt. I still wasn’t sure what to make of the sort of clothing she wore, her sartorial choices somewhere between slovenly and vagabond.
Certainly, being a maid couldn’t have paid that much. But there was a strange element of almost frugality about her that prompted yet more questions. It wasn’t miserliness, no, but it did seem as if it might be something deeper.
“I… I don’t know why you want me to do this.”
I said it in a tone soft enough that she would have to struggle to hear it. “I want you to do it for the most important reason of all. Because I told you to.”
Her long lashes fluttered at that, but her now visibly trembling fingers drew up the hem of that dark sweatshirt. The pale flatness of her belly was pleasing to the eye, as was the size of her generous breasts supported in a plain, mauve-colored bra. Her brassiere was almost certainly too small for her frame though, her tits practically spilling out of its embrace.
Pulling her top over her head, she threaded her pretty locks of hair through it, then dropped the sweatshirt behind her on the couch. Though I expected her to balk here, she pleased me with moving quickly to undoing the button at the front of her jeans. Her dark eyes raised to mine, and she glared at me, making me wonder if she were angry—or perhaps something else entirely.
Be patient, Ellis.
Rushing it would never do, and besides, the entire purpose of the exercise was to see what she would do herself, without prompting, to learn what she would take on of her own free will.
