Page 129 of Wicked Fantasies

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“I want to see you too,” she said breathlessly, but he merely grinned and shook his head.

“Not yet. Slip off your skirt.”

She unfastened the button at the waist and slid down the zipper. She was about to push the entire skirt down when he stopped her.

“Wait,” he said. “Turn around. Slide it down nice and slow and look over your shoulder at me as you do so.”

Suddenly she could see the advantages of sleeping with a director. She complied with his request, for the first time in her life feeling sexy, hot, desirable. She kept her eyes on him as she shimmied the material over her hips.

She’d worn a thong underneath and even the small part of her mind that denied wanting this had to admit she’d worn it for him. She saw him suck in a deep breath as her ass was bared to his eyes, only the thin string of the panties covering her.

“The thong, Gwen. Take it and your bra off. I want you naked. Now.”

She started to turn around to face him, but he shook his head. She peeled the panties off torturously slow, delighted by the tenting at the front of his pants.

She’d done that.

She’d made him want her.

The feeling was heady, exciting.

She stepped out of the thong, then reached to unfasten her bra. She was startled when she felt him step closer. He put his arms around her and as she pulled the lacy garment away, he was there to envelop her breasts in his large, strong palms from behind her.

She marveled at the sensitivity of his hot breath against her neck and his rough hands against her delicate flesh. “Are you a virgin, wife?”

Her breathing raced and she struggled to speak. All she could do was shake her head in response.

“No,” he said. “Are you sure?”

She was confused by his question.

Was she supposed to lie?

He’d warned her not to. It was obvious that regardless of his suggestion that they reenact the stories of her book, tonight was not playacting, and they were not the young, bumbling couple from “The Honeymoon”.

“I’m sure,” she whispered.

“Have you ever been tied up in bed?”

She jerked a bit, but his hands on her breasts, gently massaging the pliant flesh, held her firmly in place.

She shook her head.

“Bend over.”

For a moment, her mind revolted against her body’s screaming demands that she do anything and everything this man said. When she failed to move, he released her breasts and pushed her shoulders forward and down.

“Grasp your ankles and stay like that. Don’t move unless I give you permission.”

She did as he asked, her thoughts whirling. She was in serious danger of hyperventilating. Her breathing was harsh, ragged, and he must have sensed her intense anxiety. “Calm down, Gwen. Relax. I won’t hurt you.”

She wanted to snarl at his reassurance. Pain was the least of her worries. She needed him to hurry the hell up. He chuckled at her reaction, and she wondered if he could read her mind.

His hands slowly rubbed over her ass, lightly gripping her hips and pulling her against his clad erection.

Why is he still dressed?

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