Being Me
Page 54
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he repeats, his lips curving. He reaches for the thick tie on the robe, his stare holding mine. “Let me show you.”
The panic of moments before transforms into a simmering warmth low in my belly. I don’t look away from his penetrating gaze. I drop my arms and the robe gapes open, the cool air teasing my bare skin. Approval slides over his face and his fingers lightly brush my ni**les. I attempt to swallow a whimper and fail. Chris shifts our position, settling my backside against the vanity, his h*ps molded to mine, the thick pulse of his erection settling against my stomach.
Lazily he tweaks the rosy tips until they are hard knots, and sweet, delicious sensations ripple through me. I grab his wrists. “Stop. We have to leave. I have to get dressed.”
“Just making sure you’re ready.”
“I am ready. That’s the problem.”
He cups my br**sts and pushes them together, leaning down to lave both of my ni**les at once. My lashes flutter and my hand goes to his head. I don’t have it in me to tell him to stop. I’ll just have to dress faster. I don’t notice when he reaches for one of the nipple rings. He’s just suddenly slipping it over one of the swollen, aroused tips.
I bite my lip and stare down at the dangling jewels. “Hurt?” he asks, flicking it with his finger and sending darts of pleasure straight to my sex.
“No,” I breathe out. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Satisfaction slides over his handsome face and he dips his head low again, rasping my bare nipple with his tongue. This time, as I watch him place the second ring into place, I’m aroused by more than the sight of the jewelry on my body; it’s also the idea that Chris will be thinking about this all night.
He lifts me to the counter and spreads my legs, his palms traveling up my thighs, stopping at the slick swollen flesh of my sex, where his thumbs stroke and tease. “Are you thinking about f**king me, Sara?”
“No. I’m thinking of you f**king me.”
He laughs, a deep, sexy sound that turns me to soft, melting honey. I feel myself grow wetter beneath his touch, and so does he. I see it in the darkening of his gaze, the amber heat dancing in the depth of his green eyes.
“As much as I’d like to f**k you, baby, it’ll be all the better for the wait.” He holds up the cl*t ring and proceeds to close it around the swollen, sensitive bud. He presses my legs apart wider still. “Don’t move. I want to look at you.” He takes a step backward.
I yank the robe shut and scoot off the vanity, positioning myself in front of him without touching him. My chin lifts. “You teased me. You can wait until later to see me.” I sidestep him and put distance between us, before whirling around to face him. “Now out, and let me put my dress on.”
“No bra and panties.” It’s an order, the alpha Chris I know and find so damn arousing, in all his glory.
“We’ll see.”
He’s closed the distance between us and pulled me hard against him in an instant. “No bra. No panties. Understand?”
His heart thunders beneath my palm. He is not unaffected by this exchange. He does not have all the power, but his need for it permeates the air, as alive as I am when he is touching me.
I press to my toes and kiss him. “Yes. I understand.”
For a moment he’s stiff and unyielding. The next his hand is melded on my back beneath the gaping robe. His lips brush mine, then his tongue, a whisper of a touch before it’s gone. “How is it that you always do exactly what I don’t expect you to do?” he asks in a gravelly voice. He sets me away from him and exits the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.
I stare after him for several seconds, wondering if doing the opposite of what he expects is a good or a bad thing. But the truth is, I don’t try to be someone else with Chris, as I have with other men in my life. I’m rediscovering myself, or perhaps finding myself for the first time ever.
With an inner shake, I spur myself into action, sliding on my black thigh-highs, black high heels, and finally, the emerald green dress. No bra. No panties. Already, the rubies are teasing me unmercifully just as Chris had with his mouth and fingers. I inspect my reflection in the mirror, loving the dress even more than I did in the store. The vibrant green complements my pale skin, and the dress hugs my body without being overtly sexy. And thankfully the fitted bodice provides enough coverage to hide the ruby-covered rings on my ni**les.
Reaching for the bathroom door, I pause a moment as adrenaline pours through me at the idea of Chris waiting beyond. I step into the bedroom to find Chris leaning against the front door, one leg crossed over the other, his arms over his chest. He watches me expectantly, silently willing me to walk to him, and I am powerless to defy him, aroused by nothing more than the way he consumes the room, and me, with it. He tracks my every step, touching me without touching me, seducing me with the promise of the pleasure he’s proven that he, and he alone, can give me.
I stop in front of him and still he doesn’t move, doesn’t reach for me. “Turn around.”
Doing as he says is automatic. He’s right. I crave these moments where he’s in control and anticipation simmers low in my belly to discover what he intends next. With him I can let go, when I don’t dare do so elsewhere or with anyone else.
A cool sensation slides around my neck and I become aware of the necklace he’s hooking at my nape. Surprised, my hand goes to the jewel at my throat, and he leans down and whispers. “Go look in the mirror.”
“Oh,” he repeats, his lips curving. He reaches for the thick tie on the robe, his stare holding mine. “Let me show you.”
The panic of moments before transforms into a simmering warmth low in my belly. I don’t look away from his penetrating gaze. I drop my arms and the robe gapes open, the cool air teasing my bare skin. Approval slides over his face and his fingers lightly brush my ni**les. I attempt to swallow a whimper and fail. Chris shifts our position, settling my backside against the vanity, his h*ps molded to mine, the thick pulse of his erection settling against my stomach.
Lazily he tweaks the rosy tips until they are hard knots, and sweet, delicious sensations ripple through me. I grab his wrists. “Stop. We have to leave. I have to get dressed.”
“Just making sure you’re ready.”
“I am ready. That’s the problem.”
He cups my br**sts and pushes them together, leaning down to lave both of my ni**les at once. My lashes flutter and my hand goes to his head. I don’t have it in me to tell him to stop. I’ll just have to dress faster. I don’t notice when he reaches for one of the nipple rings. He’s just suddenly slipping it over one of the swollen, aroused tips.
I bite my lip and stare down at the dangling jewels. “Hurt?” he asks, flicking it with his finger and sending darts of pleasure straight to my sex.
“No,” I breathe out. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Satisfaction slides over his handsome face and he dips his head low again, rasping my bare nipple with his tongue. This time, as I watch him place the second ring into place, I’m aroused by more than the sight of the jewelry on my body; it’s also the idea that Chris will be thinking about this all night.
He lifts me to the counter and spreads my legs, his palms traveling up my thighs, stopping at the slick swollen flesh of my sex, where his thumbs stroke and tease. “Are you thinking about f**king me, Sara?”
“No. I’m thinking of you f**king me.”
He laughs, a deep, sexy sound that turns me to soft, melting honey. I feel myself grow wetter beneath his touch, and so does he. I see it in the darkening of his gaze, the amber heat dancing in the depth of his green eyes.
“As much as I’d like to f**k you, baby, it’ll be all the better for the wait.” He holds up the cl*t ring and proceeds to close it around the swollen, sensitive bud. He presses my legs apart wider still. “Don’t move. I want to look at you.” He takes a step backward.
I yank the robe shut and scoot off the vanity, positioning myself in front of him without touching him. My chin lifts. “You teased me. You can wait until later to see me.” I sidestep him and put distance between us, before whirling around to face him. “Now out, and let me put my dress on.”
“No bra and panties.” It’s an order, the alpha Chris I know and find so damn arousing, in all his glory.
“We’ll see.”
He’s closed the distance between us and pulled me hard against him in an instant. “No bra. No panties. Understand?”
His heart thunders beneath my palm. He is not unaffected by this exchange. He does not have all the power, but his need for it permeates the air, as alive as I am when he is touching me.
I press to my toes and kiss him. “Yes. I understand.”
For a moment he’s stiff and unyielding. The next his hand is melded on my back beneath the gaping robe. His lips brush mine, then his tongue, a whisper of a touch before it’s gone. “How is it that you always do exactly what I don’t expect you to do?” he asks in a gravelly voice. He sets me away from him and exits the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him.
I stare after him for several seconds, wondering if doing the opposite of what he expects is a good or a bad thing. But the truth is, I don’t try to be someone else with Chris, as I have with other men in my life. I’m rediscovering myself, or perhaps finding myself for the first time ever.
With an inner shake, I spur myself into action, sliding on my black thigh-highs, black high heels, and finally, the emerald green dress. No bra. No panties. Already, the rubies are teasing me unmercifully just as Chris had with his mouth and fingers. I inspect my reflection in the mirror, loving the dress even more than I did in the store. The vibrant green complements my pale skin, and the dress hugs my body without being overtly sexy. And thankfully the fitted bodice provides enough coverage to hide the ruby-covered rings on my ni**les.
Reaching for the bathroom door, I pause a moment as adrenaline pours through me at the idea of Chris waiting beyond. I step into the bedroom to find Chris leaning against the front door, one leg crossed over the other, his arms over his chest. He watches me expectantly, silently willing me to walk to him, and I am powerless to defy him, aroused by nothing more than the way he consumes the room, and me, with it. He tracks my every step, touching me without touching me, seducing me with the promise of the pleasure he’s proven that he, and he alone, can give me.
I stop in front of him and still he doesn’t move, doesn’t reach for me. “Turn around.”
Doing as he says is automatic. He’s right. I crave these moments where he’s in control and anticipation simmers low in my belly to discover what he intends next. With him I can let go, when I don’t dare do so elsewhere or with anyone else.
A cool sensation slides around my neck and I become aware of the necklace he’s hooking at my nape. Surprised, my hand goes to the jewel at my throat, and he leans down and whispers. “Go look in the mirror.”
