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Authors: Emily Ryan-Davis
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hall.
Shimmying out of the dress, she kicked it into the room, pushed her shoes and
bag out of the way and pulled the door shut. Locked out, wearing nothing but a
silky pink thong and a fabulous pedicure, she turned to face Sam. “You’re top
on my list of choices but if you’re not interested, I’m sure somebody will be.”
He stood by the elevator for a long minute without saying
anything. When he finally did speak, his voice was even and controlled. “Come
here, Melanie.”
She suppressed a triumphant smile and obeyed.
If she thought the walk away from him took forever, the walk
to him was endless. She wasn’t lying about being cold in the hotel. Her feet
felt like icicles and her nipples peaked to hard, uncomfortable points by the
time she reached the halfway mark. By contrast, her cheeks were so hot they felt
like they were on fire. Sam wasn’t looking at her face or her breasts though.
His eyes were hooded by thick, dark lashes and focused on the narrow triangle
of her panties, which felt clingy and damp against her smooth skin.
At the elevator, she stopped and watched him, not quite sure
what to do about her predicament. She kind of hoped Sam had a plan that
involved getting equally naked.
“You’ve been trying to provoke me into dominating you
because you’ve discovered a new fantasy and decided I’m the right person to
play with.” The elevator opened. Sam pointed a finger, directing her inside.
“So we’ll play, but I’m not some boy all wrapped around your pretty fingers. If
you want something from me, you’ll ask for it. You’ll say please and Sir and
thank you. And if I say no, you’ll abide by the decision or you’ll be punished
as befits the behavior of a willfully disrespectful brat.”
Sam held the elevator door and raised his eyebrows
expectantly. “Is there something you don’t understand?”
There was a hell of a lot she didn’t understand, starting
with the hot flood of cream between her legs, but this was what she wanted so
she shook her head. “No Sir.”
“Then what are you waiting for? In .”
In. Right. In way over her head. But oh-em-gee. Barely able
to breathe around her crazy racing pulse, Melanie stepped into the elevator.
Fifty shades of Fletcher, here I come.
Chapter Six
She was so turned-on, he could smell her arousal. Sam glared
at the elevator doors and cursed himself for being a fool. She’d manipulated
him and he’d succumbed despite his better judgment. Because he wanted her.
Because he didn’t want her surrendering to anybody else. Watching her
with Douglass, he’d realized that single truth. He might not trust that she
knew what she wanted, but he knew himself well enough to accept when his wants
outweighed his good sense. When the elevator reached his floor, he was relieved
to find the corridor empty. He wanted Melanie to suffer the embarrassment of
walking around stripped bare, since it was her idea, but he didn’t want to
share the view with anybody else. Stepping aside, he waved her out of the
elevator ahead of him.
“We’re going to room 703,” he said. “It’ll be on your left.”
“Could I have your shirt?” Melanie bit her lip before
adding, “Sir?”
“No.” He fixed her with an expectant stare and gestured
toward the hall.
To her credit, she didn’t fuss over his refusal. She stood
in the corner for a minute, arms across her chest, before she squared her
shoulders, lowered her hands and walked out ahead of him.
When he caught up to her, he pulled his key card out of his
wallet. Melanie stood silent beside the door, her hands balled into fists at
her hips.
Instead of immediately opening the door, he frowned at the
key card. “When’s the last time you were spanked?”
Her breath hitched. “My parents didn’t use corporal
punishment.”
“How did they correct you when you were disobedient or
reckless?”
“Time-outs, essays. Sometimes I lost things like Internet or
phone privileges.”
He slid the card
Shimmying out of the dress, she kicked it into the room, pushed her shoes and
bag out of the way and pulled the door shut. Locked out, wearing nothing but a
silky pink thong and a fabulous pedicure, she turned to face Sam. “You’re top
on my list of choices but if you’re not interested, I’m sure somebody will be.”
He stood by the elevator for a long minute without saying
anything. When he finally did speak, his voice was even and controlled. “Come
here, Melanie.”
She suppressed a triumphant smile and obeyed.
If she thought the walk away from him took forever, the walk
to him was endless. She wasn’t lying about being cold in the hotel. Her feet
felt like icicles and her nipples peaked to hard, uncomfortable points by the
time she reached the halfway mark. By contrast, her cheeks were so hot they felt
like they were on fire. Sam wasn’t looking at her face or her breasts though.
His eyes were hooded by thick, dark lashes and focused on the narrow triangle
of her panties, which felt clingy and damp against her smooth skin.
At the elevator, she stopped and watched him, not quite sure
what to do about her predicament. She kind of hoped Sam had a plan that
involved getting equally naked.
“You’ve been trying to provoke me into dominating you
because you’ve discovered a new fantasy and decided I’m the right person to
play with.” The elevator opened. Sam pointed a finger, directing her inside.
“So we’ll play, but I’m not some boy all wrapped around your pretty fingers. If
you want something from me, you’ll ask for it. You’ll say please and Sir and
thank you. And if I say no, you’ll abide by the decision or you’ll be punished
as befits the behavior of a willfully disrespectful brat.”
Sam held the elevator door and raised his eyebrows
expectantly. “Is there something you don’t understand?”
There was a hell of a lot she didn’t understand, starting
with the hot flood of cream between her legs, but this was what she wanted so
she shook her head. “No Sir.”
“Then what are you waiting for? In .”
In. Right. In way over her head. But oh-em-gee. Barely able
to breathe around her crazy racing pulse, Melanie stepped into the elevator.
Fifty shades of Fletcher, here I come.
Chapter Six
She was so turned-on, he could smell her arousal. Sam glared
at the elevator doors and cursed himself for being a fool. She’d manipulated
him and he’d succumbed despite his better judgment. Because he wanted her.
Because he didn’t want her surrendering to anybody else. Watching her
with Douglass, he’d realized that single truth. He might not trust that she
knew what she wanted, but he knew himself well enough to accept when his wants
outweighed his good sense. When the elevator reached his floor, he was relieved
to find the corridor empty. He wanted Melanie to suffer the embarrassment of
walking around stripped bare, since it was her idea, but he didn’t want to
share the view with anybody else. Stepping aside, he waved her out of the
elevator ahead of him.
“We’re going to room 703,” he said. “It’ll be on your left.”
“Could I have your shirt?” Melanie bit her lip before
adding, “Sir?”
“No.” He fixed her with an expectant stare and gestured
toward the hall.
To her credit, she didn’t fuss over his refusal. She stood
in the corner for a minute, arms across her chest, before she squared her
shoulders, lowered her hands and walked out ahead of him.
When he caught up to her, he pulled his key card out of his
wallet. Melanie stood silent beside the door, her hands balled into fists at
her hips.
Instead of immediately opening the door, he frowned at the
key card. “When’s the last time you were spanked?”
Her breath hitched. “My parents didn’t use corporal
punishment.”
“How did they correct you when you were disobedient or
reckless?”
“Time-outs, essays. Sometimes I lost things like Internet or
phone privileges.”
He slid the card
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