Page 54 of Until I Own You

“Good.” I push her back onto her feet and release her hair.

I’m having to breathe quicker to keep up with my heart rate. “A good sub should be naked.”

Bridget’s hand flies up to her collar.

“Everything but the collar.” As soon as I say the words, I have half a mind to tell her she doesn’t have to. That this is all a mistake. I know she’s agreed to my demands, but I can’t help but feel–

Her hand drops to the top button on her dress.

She undoes it.

I try to stay composed, but holy fuck, it’s impossible.

Bridget undoes each and every button, one by one, fabric parting more and more to reveal the pale skin of her sternum, her belly, her thighs.

In one go, she lets the dress drop from her arms, leaving her in just a matching black underwear set and a pair of black pumps.

Of course she’s wearing matching underwear. For one, she’s Bridget. And for another, she’s Bridget Vance, lingerie designer.

Fuck, how did anyone ever expect me to stay away with that job description?

Bridget goes for her bra first, not the shoes, which is a darling example of her fluster.

I’ve never had a sub so flustered, only experienced ones. And the ones who I’ve asked to act naïve no longer quite grasp the true newness of it all.

She unsnaps the bra and it slides down, exposing her breasts.

Her nipples tighten, the bud poking out.

She drops it to the side, still following instructions and not looking at me.

It’s all happened so fast, I’m not sure how to process it.

Her nearly naked pale form is exquisite. The bones of her hips protruding against her underwear, a tiny softness at her middle, breasts fuller than they look when they’re trapped in her clothes.

I want to kiss every inch, want to worship every piece, want to claim her. A collar won’t be enough, nothing ever will.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I say in a voice lighter than I anticipate. I’m marveling and I can’t be stopped. “Like a sculpture.”

Bridget twitches and looks away, but with her hair in a ponytail, she can’t veil herself away from me.

Her hands ball up at her sides. She doesn’t know what to do with herself.

How long has it been since someone has seen her like this? Could I be the first?

Bridget hooks her thumbs into her underwear, but I step forward and grab one of her wrists to stop her. “No. That’s mine. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I want to be the one to slide her panties off. Like a present that I can’t wait to unwrap.

I am so close. For a kiss. One kiss.

What kind of Dom am I to melt at the thought of one kiss?

But her glossy cherry lips look like they’d be sweet, and her pink tongue would feel perfect rolling against mine.

Not yet.

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