Page 50 of Obey

“Such an eager little thing, aren’t you, Half-Pint?” His whisper next to my ear makes every hair on my body stand upright.

I can’t answer him. If I open my mouth, I’m not sure what unladylike thing will come spraying out. So I sink my teeth into my lower lip, nod, and try to push the thoughts right out of my brain that I’m doing the devil’s bidding by letting a gorgeous man finger my behind in an elevator full of people.

Because it feels so dang good.

By the time the last people step off the elevator, a bead of sweat is making its way down my neck. My body sags.

His tongue picks up the bead of sweat, and he sweeps it along the column of my neck. I should be grossed out. But I’m only growing more and more needy.

I grab his shirt, fisting it in my balled up hand, stretching that pristine black tee covering all his beautiful ink. “Jagger.”

The pressure on my hole builds a little, enough to make me whimper.

“You like that, don’t you baby girl?”

Oh, Lord.

Is it possible to climax from a simple pet name? It’s right at the back of my throat to answer “Yes, Daddy.” But I force myself to swallow it down. I’ve seen it in books. I’ve seen the groups where women says it gives them the ick, but I’m curious about it. So curious, in fact, that’s why it made it onto the list.

I’ve never actually wanted to say it out loud to someone before, until now.

What is this man doing to me?

By the time the elevator door opens, my knees are shaking so hard I’m not sure I can walk to our room. I don’t need to, however. Jagger takes his hand out of my pants, wipes it on something in his pocket—likely another handkerchief—then swoops under me to pull me up into his arms.

It takes me a fragment of a second to curl into his chest. My head fits right into the front of his shoulder, like a jigsaw puzzle clicking into place.

In our room, he plops me down next to the bed. “Get naked.”

He steps back. I don’t need to look at him to know he’s watching my every move, every reaction, every breath.

I step out of my clothes and kick them a few feet away with a sweep of my foot.

“Kneel.”

I obey. And the sound that rattles in the back of his throat makes me want to grind on the floor to finish what he started in the elevator.

He opens his luggage. “What’s your safeword, Talia?”

When he’s all business, he uses my real name. It’s like he’s checking to make sure I’m paying attention. I guess he hasn’t figured out there hasn’t been a time when he’s spoken, that I haven’t paid attention. It’s something people assume about chatty folk, that because we talk a lot, we never listen.

“Unicorn.” I speak loudly and clearly so he can hear that even though my voice is wavering, I’m not afraid. Even though I’m most definitely afraid.

“Good girl.”

Do those shivers ever end? Those words of pleasure dancing all over your skin like someone turned on fairy lights? I can’t imagine hearing him say those words and them not having this impact to my body. Even my nipples are tingling.

Something clicks, twice, but I resist the urge to look over at what he’s doing.

When he stands behind me, my insides burn. It’s like something triggered a chain reaction inside my body, and he’s the only one who can stop it, or fix it, or make it better, or worse? I don’t know.

But I know he’s the only one that can dosomething.

Smooth, cool, fabric covers my eyes.

#2 Blindfolds

Something soft and furry touches my wrists as he clicks cold, hard handcuffs around them behind my back.

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