Read Online RecipeforSubmission by Sindra van Yssel - Free Book Online Page A

looked up at him, not sure what to say. She squirmed in
her chair in response to the dull ache between her legs at the idea of saying I
surrender to him. But the words stuck in her throat. For a moment, their
gazes locked, and then he stood, pushed his chair back and walked around her.
Her gaze followed him, thinking at first he was giving up on her, and then
sighing in relief as she felt his hands touch her shoulders.
    His fingers deftly unbuttoned the top button on her blouse.
“Do you remember your safe word, Kyra?”
    Her heart beat faster. What was he going to do that she
needed a safe word? Although she supposed if she didn’t want him unbuttoning
her blouse she could use it for that. He really should have asked. But there
was something sexy about this man taking too. Her nipples tightened at the
thought. He’d take her clothes, take her body. He expects me to remember a
word? “I don’t remember.”
    “It’s banana.”
    “Oh.”
    “Did you want to use it now?”
    “No.”
    He undid another button, and another. He pushed the blouse
from her shoulders. “You have beautiful breasts, Kyra.”
    She blushed. From the angle he was at he probably had a nice
view down the cleavage her bra created. “Do we have to talk about them?”
    He chuckled. “No.” He unbuttoned the last button and then
pulled the blouse off.
    She took a breath. No big deal. Nothing they hadn’t done
last week. His hands massaged her shoulders and upper arms, kneading out tense
muscles. She relaxed. When he unclasped her bra in the back it was like another
muscle unclenching, until she thought about him watching. He slid her bra
straps off her shoulders and they fell down her arms. That was further than
they’d gone last week.
    “Hey!”
    “Shhhh,” he whispered with a trace of amusement. “No talking
about them.” And lest there be any doubt about what “they” were, he slid his
hands forward to cup her bare breasts, her nipples poking at his palms.
    “It’s cold in here,” she lied.
    He kissed her neck behind her right ear and whispered, “I
turned off the air conditioner while you were upstairs.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I planned to take your clothes off. And you’re not
cold. You’re turned-on.”
    That didn’t help her nipples relax at all. Neither did his
thumbs, which were brushing against her now-aching peaks quite deliberately.
“All of them?”
    “I thought I might leave your skirt on, if you ask nicely.”
    She didn’t know what to say. She wanted her modesty, but she
found herself craving more than a make-out session. I want him inside me,
that’s what I want. I want him fucking me.
    “Your panties, though, have to go.”
    Oh.
    “Now,” he insisted.
    “You want me to take them off?” She wasn’t sure what
she expected, whether he’d reach in and grab them.
    “Yes, Kyra. I want you to take them off.” His
forefinger and his thumb were playing with her right nipple. He wasn’t
pinching, just rubbing very firmly. Much more of that and it would start to
feel like pain, but it didn’t yet. It did make her frantic, made her want to
grab his wrist and control it and make him ease off.
    “Too much!” she cried.
    “That’s not your safe word,” he murmured, and started doing
the same thing to her left side, making both peaks ache. She arched her back
into him and shuddered. She couldn’t come just from having her nipples
stimulated, could she?
    She still didn’t want him thinking she was submitting to
him. She lifted her butt and pulled up her skirt to get to her panties, but she
tried to turn it into a bargain. “Okay, okay. I’ll do what you say.” She put
her underpants on the table where he could see them. She’d done her part, now
he’d give her back control. Right?
    He did let go, but only to scoop her up off the chair. He
carried her away from the table and took advantage of the way her breasts were
close to his face to suck one engorged peak into his mouth.
    “Oh god.” The wetness of