Page 14 of Submit

Chapter Five

Adam took her hand and led her across the room on shaking legs. She followed him blindly down a long hall, through a doorway and into a dimly lit space. When her eyes adjusted, she saw an enormous, four-post bed in a dark, rich wood, an over-stuffed chair with a large ottoman covered in a neutral suede, another fireplace with a high mantle. A fire was burning, the acrid scent flooding her nostrils, the amber glow casting the only light in the room.

He took her to the chair and sat down, then pulled her so she stood before him. He reached up and silently unbuttoned her blouse, his hands almost tender. She was trembling all over. With fear, with excitement, with that exquisite anticipation she’d never felt before. When he pulled her blouse from her shoulders, her nipples went hard beneath the intensity of his gaze.

“Ah, you really are beautiful,” he murmured.

She could not believe she was standing there, allowing this man, this virtual stranger, to undress her. That she stood so silently. So passively. Yet at the same time, it was her very passiveness that allowed her to do it—that quiet head space. It was exactly what she was there for, a sensation she’d been seeking out.

When he unzipped her skirt and let it slide down her thighs, she gasped.

“Shh,” he soothed. “Relax.”

He’d misunderstood her. She wasn’t afraid to be naked in front of him. But how could she possibly relax when she wanted so desperately for him to touch her?

Her mind was spinning with the possibilities. Something about the way his gaze roved over her almost reverently was causing a strange sort of heaviness in her limbs, causing her fears to calm, her head to empty out. And the vee between her thighs grew more damp every moment.

Finally, he put his hands on her, just laid his fingertips against the skin on the front of her thighs, but that simple touch went through her like an electric current, a keen arousal arrowing between her legs. She was shaking as he stroked her skin with small, feather-like touches. He moved his hands higher and she took in a deep breath, but he kept his fingertips away from her heated sex, where she wanted—needed—him most.

When he slid his hands to the back of her thighs and squeezed hard enough to hurt, she gasped again. But she didn’t move.

“Good girl. Very good.”

Something about the pleasure in his voice made her heart surge. And the words themselves. Good girl. Lovely.

He spent some time simply running his hands over her while she watched his dark, bent head. There was something reverent in the way he was looking at her so closely, in the way he traced the curves of her body, leaving a trail of sensation everywhere. She was heating up beneath his hands, her sex growing heavy with need, her breasts full and aching.

“That’s it,” he said quietly. “Enjoy this, being touched, the sensation of my hands on your skin. Close your eyes. Let it happen, Skye.”

She did as he said, closing her eyes, letting her head fall back as he continued to brush her naked flesh with his fingertips: her thighs, her stomach, even the backs of her hands. She wanted to beg him to touch her breasts, to slip a hand between her thighs. Her sex was pulsing with desire, a sharp, aching want. But of course, she didn’t ask. She didn’t dare. Oddly, she found she couldn’t do anything but abide by his instructions, and that sensation itself made her understand a little more of how the whole dynamic was supposed to work, helped her to accept it.

When he finally swept his fingers across her already hard nipples, she groaned aloud and opened her eyes. She found him staring up at her, amusement in his gleaming gaze. But something else, as well.

“Adam…”

“Quiet, Skye.”

Lust. Glittering and warm, making his dark pupils wide, despite the absolute authority in his tone.

He was as excited as she was. And that knowledge made her soar with a sense of power she didn’t quite understand. But then he took her nipples between his fingers, pinching lightly, and she couldn’t think anymore. Her mind was simply telling her, yes, more.

He tugged and rolled her nipples, paused to cup the weight of her breasts in his hands, then went back to pinching her again, hard and hurting in stinging little bites. God, it felt good, like something she’d needed all her life—her secret desire.

A sharp flash of heat burned through her when he said, “Spread your legs for me, Skye.”

She did as he asked instantly. She felt open, exposed. Wanton. He moved in until his face was only inches from her body, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her belly. She had never felt so naked, so vulnerable. So turned on.

He took in a deep breath and said, “You smell like heaven, beautiful girl.”

When he brushed her mound with one hand, just a brief, whispering touch, she thought she might collapse. Desire rushed through her, hot in her veins, a fiery tide. She moaned.

“I can feel your need, Skye. I can smell it on you. Trust that I will feed it tonight. I will satisfy your cravings in ways you’ve never experienced before.”

She loved the command in his tone, loved the husky edge of raw desire just as much.

“I’m going to turn you over my knee now. I’m going to spank you.”

He pulled her toward him, but she fought him, struggling against a new wave of panic. Over his knee? That seemed so… personal. Intimate. Could she really lay naked over his lap, with him fully clothed and in control of the situation?

---