Read Online Giving It Up: Pushing the Boundaries, Book 1 by Audra North - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Audra North
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Italians say something different when they want the espresso drink.”
Damn it. He was a classless brute. All he could think of was her body, milking his, while she knew things about other cultures and maybe even spoke another language. He wondered if she’d ever been to Italy or any of the other places he had always dreamt of going, before everything had changed.
He tried to make civilized conversation, to make her think better of him even as his body roiled with a mix of rage at himself and hot want for her. “What made you come up with that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just say it if you need to,” she whispered, then pulled her hands away from him. He heard something swish to the floor, then something black appeared in his peripheral vision, coming around the couch next to him.
Holy. Mother. Fuck.
Thank God he had seen those boots and fishnets first, or he might have actually died now when he saw the rest of what she was wearing. The stockings ended somewhere underneath a pair of skin-tight leather hot pants that matched a strapless leather corset-type thing on top, one that pushed her breasts together and left her shoulders completely bare. High up on her arm, a leather cuff encircled her bicep, and laced leather gauntlets ran from her wrist to elbow.
The only thing soft about her look was her hair, which was gathered up in a messy bun, some strands falling down to caress her neck.
Beatrice finally stopped, directly in front of him, standing with her legs apart as though she were trying to balance on the deck of a rocking ship. Warren could only stare. And stare. His mouth went dry and his cock hurt from straining so hard against the metal teeth of his zipper, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
A flush crept up her body, turning her pink from the roots of her hair to the dip between those incredible breasts. “I—did a lot of online research. And there was a book I read that talked about setting the context. It said—well, I felt it was right too—that dressing like this would help to put both of us in the right mindset.”
Damn. She’d certainly put more thought into this than he would have expected. With that kind of desire to get things right, he could see why she was such an incredible photographer.
But mostly, he was thrilled she had gone to all this trouble to give him this experience. She was still nervous, and obviously new at this, but then again, so was he. And he kind of liked the idea of being able to take this journey with her , even if it was going to end all too soon.
He wondered if she had any idea how long he’d wanted her.
“Am I allowed to touch you?” He was surprised at the way his own voice sounded, like gravel over tar, rough and slow, even as his hand opened and closed on nothing. She did something to him. Something he’d never experienced before, but suddenly felt like he couldn’t get enough of.
He stared at her thighs, wondering if they felt as strong as they looked. Wondering how they would feel, wrapped around his hips.
She shook her head.
It made him crazy.
“That’s another rule during the hour we’re together. Don’t do anything unless I order you to do it.”
Now that was a command. Clear and forceful, and it made him even harder. And it made him smile. Two minutes in and she was already getting better at this.
So he didn’t touch her, even though he wanted to, and she gestured for him to stand up as she stepped back, giving him room to rise. Even so, there was only a foot of space between the couch and the coffee table, and her calves were backed up against it. When he stood, their bodies were nearly touching.
Her eyelids drooped. He didn’t miss the way her shoulders rolled back, pushing her breasts forward until they grazed his torso.
“Take off your shirt.”
He hesitated for a moment, but then grabbed the hem of his tee. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be told what to do and not to have to decide anything? The only awkward thing
Damn it. He was a classless brute. All he could think of was her body, milking his, while she knew things about other cultures and maybe even spoke another language. He wondered if she’d ever been to Italy or any of the other places he had always dreamt of going, before everything had changed.
He tried to make civilized conversation, to make her think better of him even as his body roiled with a mix of rage at himself and hot want for her. “What made you come up with that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just say it if you need to,” she whispered, then pulled her hands away from him. He heard something swish to the floor, then something black appeared in his peripheral vision, coming around the couch next to him.
Holy. Mother. Fuck.
Thank God he had seen those boots and fishnets first, or he might have actually died now when he saw the rest of what she was wearing. The stockings ended somewhere underneath a pair of skin-tight leather hot pants that matched a strapless leather corset-type thing on top, one that pushed her breasts together and left her shoulders completely bare. High up on her arm, a leather cuff encircled her bicep, and laced leather gauntlets ran from her wrist to elbow.
The only thing soft about her look was her hair, which was gathered up in a messy bun, some strands falling down to caress her neck.
Beatrice finally stopped, directly in front of him, standing with her legs apart as though she were trying to balance on the deck of a rocking ship. Warren could only stare. And stare. His mouth went dry and his cock hurt from straining so hard against the metal teeth of his zipper, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
A flush crept up her body, turning her pink from the roots of her hair to the dip between those incredible breasts. “I—did a lot of online research. And there was a book I read that talked about setting the context. It said—well, I felt it was right too—that dressing like this would help to put both of us in the right mindset.”
Damn. She’d certainly put more thought into this than he would have expected. With that kind of desire to get things right, he could see why she was such an incredible photographer.
But mostly, he was thrilled she had gone to all this trouble to give him this experience. She was still nervous, and obviously new at this, but then again, so was he. And he kind of liked the idea of being able to take this journey with her , even if it was going to end all too soon.
He wondered if she had any idea how long he’d wanted her.
“Am I allowed to touch you?” He was surprised at the way his own voice sounded, like gravel over tar, rough and slow, even as his hand opened and closed on nothing. She did something to him. Something he’d never experienced before, but suddenly felt like he couldn’t get enough of.
He stared at her thighs, wondering if they felt as strong as they looked. Wondering how they would feel, wrapped around his hips.
She shook her head.
It made him crazy.
“That’s another rule during the hour we’re together. Don’t do anything unless I order you to do it.”
Now that was a command. Clear and forceful, and it made him even harder. And it made him smile. Two minutes in and she was already getting better at this.
So he didn’t touch her, even though he wanted to, and she gestured for him to stand up as she stepped back, giving him room to rise. Even so, there was only a foot of space between the couch and the coffee table, and her calves were backed up against it. When he stood, their bodies were nearly touching.
Her eyelids drooped. He didn’t miss the way her shoulders rolled back, pushing her breasts forward until they grazed his torso.
“Take off your shirt.”
He hesitated for a moment, but then grabbed the hem of his tee. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To be told what to do and not to have to decide anything? The only awkward thing
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