Red, red, red.
When the kiss had finally ended, I found myself standing next to the table in the center of the room. He reached under it, pulling out a step stool. The table wasn’t very tall, maybe typical counter height. He patted the table top. “Let’s get you up here.”
Red, red, red.
Why couldn’t I speak? Why couldn’t I move?
He picked me up and plopped me down. My legs dangled over the edge.
Red, red, red.
He eased my knees apart and stepped closer, and I realized, when his h*ps wedged between my thighs that the table was the perfect height for him to have sex standing up. A flood of warmth pulsed to my core. He caught my wrists, pinning them behind my back and gathering them into one hand. Now there was a hard lump grinding against my crotch and I couldn’t use my hands.
Mmmmm. I liked it.
I didn’t want to like it.
I didn’t want to be in this scary place.
I licked my lips, and his gaze locked on my mouth. “What do you want?” I whispered.
The corners of his lips curled. “You’ll soon find out.” With his free hand, he cupped my breast. The air whooshed out of my lungs, and my spine arched. That only pushed my boob into his hand harder. His lips parted slightly, and I stared at them, wishing I could taste them again.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
“In this room, I’m the one who gives the commands.” He squeezed, and my head spun. “We need these clothes off.” He released my hands. “Undress.”
With clumsy fingers, I started to undo the buttons of my blouse. But I stopped after only two. What was I doing?
His brows furrowed.
I said, with my heart beating so hard it physically hurt,“I…think I should go home.”
He fisted my wrists, pulled them out away from my body. “You don’t want to leave. You know how I know that?”
I was dizzy. I was scared. And, ohmygod, my body was on fire. I shook my head.
“I can smell your need.” He dipped down a little, inhaling deeply. “And does it smell good. You’re wet.”
My inner muscles clenched, and I felt the slickness of my damp panties. He was right. But that didn’t mean I was ready for this. “I…I…” Holding both my wrists in one hand, he eased back slightly, which allowed him to wedge a hand between our bodies. His fingertip grazed the sodden crotch of my panties, and my face heated.
“Wet.” He curled that finger, working it inside at the leg band. My sex heated even more. When that first touch came, I whimpered. He eased his hand out, lifted it to his mouth and slipped his index finger between his lips. “Sweet. Delicious. I must have more.” Still holding my wrists behind my back, he unfastened my blouse buttons, and I watched his expression as more and more of my skin was exposed. The hard male hunger in his eyes grew and grew. By the time the garment had slid over my shoulders, I was squirming and my whole body was burning.
Hot and cold.
Tight. Very tight all over.
And breathless.
And scared.
And aroused. Incredibly aroused.
I was crazy. Had to be.
I want to leave. I should leave. Right now. Say the word. Say it!
Chapter 3Unaware of my inner conflict, Shane reached around my side and unzipped my skirt. With his bulk trapped between my legs, there was no way he’d get it off. Or my panties. That made me feel a little less panicked. He turned his attention to my br**sts.
“This has to go.” He hooked a finger under the little bow sewn between the cups of my bra. Then, he glided a flattened hand up my stomach, over my ribcage, and around my back. With a snap, my bra was unhooked. As the straps flopped down over my shoulders, the cups fell away, and my br**sts bounced free. Embarrassed, I yanked on my hands. I wanted to catch the cups, hold them in place to cover myself. “Beautiful.” That free hand was on the move again. This time, it weighed each breast. Then it kneaded the soft flesh. I watched, torn, confused, overwhelmed. My body craved this man’s touch like none before. This was so new to me, this almost unbearable need. I was hot, shivering, tight all over. My panties were sodden. My head was spinning. My mouth was dry. “Good. Now let’s get rid of the rest.” Without releasing my wrists, he moved back enough to let me press my legs together. As he tugged my skirt over my hips, a thought would shot through my mind.
I need to leave. Right now.
As he pulled my panties down, I thought, This is wrong. Dangerous.
And as I was finally left sitting on that table completely nude, I thought, If you don’t stop this now, you’re going to get hurt.
But then he touched my face, looked at me with those dark, hungry eyes, and my heart started pounding harder, and my insides burned more, and I couldn’t think about anything but having him inside me, filling me, stroking away the ache between my legs.
Before I realized it, he had me lying on my back, legs spread, wrists bound in leather cuffs and chained to the table so my hands were useless, tied over my head.
I was trapped, not completely powerless, but almost. I couldn’t catch my breath. I wanted to be set free. And yet I didn’t. It was all happening so fast.
My insides clenched as he fingered my slick folds, both in anticipation and fear. I’d seen internet p**n , pictures of girls with smudged makeup, their mouths stuffed with gags, their bodies bound and clamped and paddled. Those images scared me, disturbed me. Did I really want to know if those things hurt as badly as the pictures led me to believe? I had a feeling if I didn’t put a stop to things now, I was going to find out soon.
Red, red, red.
That finger, the one teasing, tormenting me, delved deeper, finding my entry and piercing it roughly. I bucked, blood surging through my body.
“You are so damn tight.” He added a second finger, and I cried out. My insides clenched around the invading digits, warmth gushing, easing his entry as they slid deeper, teasing the opening of my womb before gliding out. He pushed them in again, out, knuckles scraping against that place inside that made me quiver with need. I could feel the first tremors of an orgasm quake through my body, but I fought it, wanting this sweet torment to last much, much longer.
He groaned as I clenched my inner muscles again. “I have to have you.”
I heard the ziiip of his zipper, the slough of fabric. The crinkle of a condom wrapper. My fingers curled into fists. My legs shook as I waited. I’d had so few partners. And it had been such a long time since I’d enjoyed a cl**ax that wasn’t produced from a battery operated device. I wanted this, God help me, I did. Wanted it more than I should.