This was what I needed. This was what was missing. The anticipation was hammering inside my chest, making my panties damp, causing me to shiver and sweat all at once.
His mouth was only an inch away from mine, his eyes glued to my lips and the effort of restraint etched clearly on his features. “How do you want me?”
His words swirled around us. It was another form of the question he’d asked over and over. The question he kept coming back to. What do you want? How do you want it?
I never felt like I had a good answer. For the first time, I realized why. Because what I wanted was to not be asked the question.
And, if I knew Reeve like I thought I was beginning to, I didn’t believe that he really wanted to be asking, either. He’d rather just decide.
“No,” I told him. “You tell me what I want. That’s what I want.”
His eyes darkened, confirming my suspicion. He liked this answer. It was the right answer. For both of us.
He changed his grip so that only one of his hands held mine in place. With the other, he undid one of the buttons on my jacket. “You’ve wanted to fuck me all day.” His voice was low, raw. “You kept thinking about the ways I could take you. By the river.” Another button undone. “In the fields.” Another button. “On the horse.” The last button now.
Yes. “Why didn’t you?” It came out barely more than a whisper.
He released me and I turned automatically to let him take off the outer garment, which he flung to the ground. “Because out there we were being sweet. And you wanted to be dirty.”
Yes, so much yes.
He pulled the hem of my shirt from my pants. “So now it’s going to be especially dirty because you made me wait for it.”
With one quick movement, he ripped my shirt completely open, sending buttons flying. Goose bumps scampered down every inch of my exposed skin, caused as much from his words and the primal act as from the sudden cold air. I shuddered. My nipples were taut beads poking through the lace of my bra.
He pulled the ruined material of my shirt from my shoulders, then reached behind to unhook my bra. As the straps fell down my arms, his eyes grazed over my breasts, heating me with his gaze.
No matter how many times he’d seen me undressed, he never failed to look at me like that – like a starving man. Like he wanted to eat me up. Like he couldn’t get enough.
I understood how he felt. I couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of that look.
The sound of whistling drew my attention down the aisle toward the entrance. Reeve pinched his fingers on my chin and jerked my face back to him. “Eyes on me,” he said sharply. “You don’t care about who’s around. You want me to worry about that. You want me to decide who sees you. Isn’t that right?”
I nodded.
He yanked my chin up higher. “Say it.”
“I want you to decide who sees me.” Dammit, if I wasn’t wet before, I was now.
“Good girl.” He released my face. Grabbing my arm, he dragged me forcibly to the feed storage a couple of feet away where hay was bundled in varying heights. “Turn around,” he ordered. I did and he shoved me down on a double-high stack of bales.
He curled his fingers around the waistband of my pants. “You want your cunt on display for me.” He pulled them down as far as they’d go with my boots on. “I can’t see you like that, Blue Eyes. You need to spread.”
Shuffling my feet outward, I started spreading my legs, but I was too slow or didn’t move far enough because Reeve put a hand on my lower back and kicked one of my boots then the other until I was spread wide.
He trailed his fingers at the crotch of my underwear. “You’re soaked, Emily. Good thing these are coming off.” He gripped my panties with one hand on each side of the seam on my right hip. In the same way he’d torn my shirt, he tugged and ripped the flimsy lace material apart. He repeated the action on the other side then removed the remnants.
“Beautiful, Em.” His tone was thick with appreciation. “You wanted me to see your cunt, and I can see it perfectly now.”
I glanced over my shoulder and found him standing several feet away, admiring the view. My pussy pulsed, enjoying the spotlight.
“Eyes front,” he snapped when he saw me looking. I heard his steps as he crossed to me. “You don’t want to see what I’m going to do to you. You want it to be a surprise.”
Yes. I do. “Do I want it rough?”
“So rough.” His hand slapped against an ass cheek, and I squeaked. “And fast.” He slapped the other. Then he rubbed the sting away in a circular pattern, spreading the burn throughout my skin.
“Do I want you to hurt me?” My voice was gritted.
“Yes.” He smacked me again, each cheek in quick succession before he massaged. “And you want to think that I might hurt you a lot.”
He knew me. Knew me so well. Knew what I wanted. Knew how to give it to me.
Maybe he even knew when to stop.
He came around to where my head was now. “Give me your hands.”
I lifted my wrists to him and he bound them with my bra, knotting it as tight as he could manage with the makeshift rope.
He leaned down to meet me at eye level. “Don’t talk. Don’t move. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Parker,” he called out. “I need one of the crops.”
“Which one?”
“The Weaver. Twenty-four inch. And a lead. A short one will do.”
My skin tingled from my scalp to my toes. I wanted to look behind me, see where Parker was, wanted to sit up in a less disgraceful position. It was one thing to be naked in front of strangers. Another to be naked in front of people I’d met that I wasn’t sleeping with. And quite another, still, to be scandalized in their presence.