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Authors: Delphine Dryden
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men you’re used to. I don’t do sweet. This isn’t what you’re looking for.”
“If you don’t know people,” I gasped, biting my lower lip as his fingers tugged and tweaked the already pebbled peaks, “you shouldn’t make assumptions about what they’re looking for. I want this. I want you.”
I curled my hands over his in encouragement, and he responded by pulling his hands away only long enough to slip them under the shirt and then back up to resume his previous torture.
“You don’t even know what this is.”
“Then tell me. What are you, into cross-dressing? A furry? What is the big deal?”
Ivan yanked his hands from under my shirt, grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him. His expression was grim, his eyes stern and ominous in the scarlet glow. He said he was tempted, but he seemed to be looking for something from me, and I felt frustrated beyond words that I didn’t know what it was. I wanted to give it to him. Short of putting on a fur suit, in that moment I would have agreed to about anything. Maybe that was what he needed to see.
“I like to be in control.”
“I think I got that part.”
“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping my shoulders at the same time as though he was trying to force the understanding into me. “Camilla, I like to be in control. And for my partner to give up her control to me.”
Slowly, very slowly, a picture was beginning to form in my mind. “You mean like tying people up and stuff?”
That earned a smile. “Sometimes. But there’s more to it than that.”
“Like ordering people’s food for them? And quizzing them on the movie?” And why did that suddenly seem like the sexiest of all possible things?
“You didn’t pay attention to the movie at all, did you?”
I shook my head, unable to speak in the face of the intensity in his eyes as he leaned closer.
“Bad girl.”
Oh holy fuck.
In the National Geographic movie of my twisted mind, the lion had just leaped on the gazelle, pinned it to the ground and mounted it from behind. Apparently, the devouring could wait. I should point out that these little flights of fancy on my part often involved extremely improbable animal pairings. I blamed cartoons.
“Ivan…” I wasn’t sure what else I planned to say, but I felt I should say something to distract myself from the creeping wetness between my legs, the wobble in my knees and the mad thrill in my stomach.
He shook his head. “Professor. Or Sir.”
“Oh. I get it now.”
“Do you?”
“Not really but I think I want to,” I half moaned. “I really, really want to.” With every lust-soaked fiber of my being, I wanted to. But I had absolutely no idea how to proceed.
Ivan, however, did know how to proceed. It took him a few seconds of deliberation, during which he stroked my shoulders and trailed his fingertips over my collarbones in a deliciously enticing way. I could feel my nipples tightening in response, wanting to be touched again by those evil-scientist hands. But I sensed that I had to wait, to let it be his decision whether to take it further. To let him be in control.
“Maintenance has already come and gone,” he said at last, “and I don’t think anybody else will be in tonight. We’ll hear their key first if they try to get in, anyway.” He sounded as though he was talking himself into it, as much as he was reassuring me. “If you want this, then prove it. Right here and now.”
Underneath his brusqueness I heard the lashing of doubt, and I decided to quell that doubt. Who knew if I would get another chance, if I turned this one down?
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to strip. Then I want you to get on your knees and wait for further instructions.”
Okay. I hadn’t really predicted he’d come right out and demand something like that. But I’d gotten a taste of his touch, I wanted more, and I was determined to follow through. Gulping, I started to reach for the hem of my shirt, only to
“If you don’t know people,” I gasped, biting my lower lip as his fingers tugged and tweaked the already pebbled peaks, “you shouldn’t make assumptions about what they’re looking for. I want this. I want you.”
I curled my hands over his in encouragement, and he responded by pulling his hands away only long enough to slip them under the shirt and then back up to resume his previous torture.
“You don’t even know what this is.”
“Then tell me. What are you, into cross-dressing? A furry? What is the big deal?”
Ivan yanked his hands from under my shirt, grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face him. His expression was grim, his eyes stern and ominous in the scarlet glow. He said he was tempted, but he seemed to be looking for something from me, and I felt frustrated beyond words that I didn’t know what it was. I wanted to give it to him. Short of putting on a fur suit, in that moment I would have agreed to about anything. Maybe that was what he needed to see.
“I like to be in control.”
“I think I got that part.”
“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping my shoulders at the same time as though he was trying to force the understanding into me. “Camilla, I like to be in control. And for my partner to give up her control to me.”
Slowly, very slowly, a picture was beginning to form in my mind. “You mean like tying people up and stuff?”
That earned a smile. “Sometimes. But there’s more to it than that.”
“Like ordering people’s food for them? And quizzing them on the movie?” And why did that suddenly seem like the sexiest of all possible things?
“You didn’t pay attention to the movie at all, did you?”
I shook my head, unable to speak in the face of the intensity in his eyes as he leaned closer.
“Bad girl.”
Oh holy fuck.
In the National Geographic movie of my twisted mind, the lion had just leaped on the gazelle, pinned it to the ground and mounted it from behind. Apparently, the devouring could wait. I should point out that these little flights of fancy on my part often involved extremely improbable animal pairings. I blamed cartoons.
“Ivan…” I wasn’t sure what else I planned to say, but I felt I should say something to distract myself from the creeping wetness between my legs, the wobble in my knees and the mad thrill in my stomach.
He shook his head. “Professor. Or Sir.”
“Oh. I get it now.”
“Do you?”
“Not really but I think I want to,” I half moaned. “I really, really want to.” With every lust-soaked fiber of my being, I wanted to. But I had absolutely no idea how to proceed.
Ivan, however, did know how to proceed. It took him a few seconds of deliberation, during which he stroked my shoulders and trailed his fingertips over my collarbones in a deliciously enticing way. I could feel my nipples tightening in response, wanting to be touched again by those evil-scientist hands. But I sensed that I had to wait, to let it be his decision whether to take it further. To let him be in control.
“Maintenance has already come and gone,” he said at last, “and I don’t think anybody else will be in tonight. We’ll hear their key first if they try to get in, anyway.” He sounded as though he was talking himself into it, as much as he was reassuring me. “If you want this, then prove it. Right here and now.”
Underneath his brusqueness I heard the lashing of doubt, and I decided to quell that doubt. Who knew if I would get another chance, if I turned this one down?
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to strip. Then I want you to get on your knees and wait for further instructions.”
Okay. I hadn’t really predicted he’d come right out and demand something like that. But I’d gotten a taste of his touch, I wanted more, and I was determined to follow through. Gulping, I started to reach for the hem of my shirt, only to
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