Page 75 of Devious Secrets

“Good girl. Now remove your clothes.” He glances down at the light-blue sweater I’m wearing with a pair of jeans. “All of them.”

He turns his back on me, as though he just expects me to obey him. The arrogance of this man is enough to drive me crazy, and yet I find myself grabbing the hem of the sweater.

When I’ve pulled the sweater up over my head, I find him standing in front of me with a pair of leather cuffs connected by a long chain. My mouth dries and I hold the sweater over my chest, as though it’s some sort of shield.

“What are you going to do with those?” I ask stupidly. He must realize I’m aware of how silly my question is, because all he does is arch an eyebrow at me.

“You’re still dressed.” He gestures toward me with his chin. Looking past him, I see a small drawer in the side of the padded bench. It’s still open enough for me to see other chains and cuffs.

I shove out of my jeans and toss them onto the bench with my sweater, leaving me only in my blue cotton panties and my cream-colored bra.

Matching panty sets have never been my thing. Comfort has always overridden any sort of fashion rules. But now that I’m standing in this room with Alexander, I wish I’d taken some of the advice given in the magazines.

Alexander steps up to me, his eyes warming my skin as he looks down at me. Moving the cuffs to one hand, he brings his free hand to my shoulder, to the strap of my bra. Sliding his fingertip beneath the strap, he pulls it down over my shoulder until the cup of the bra frees my breast. Then he does the same with the other strap.

My nipples peak beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. He wraps his arm around to the back, finding the clasp of my bra. With expertise, he works the clasp open and the bra falls down the length of my arms. I catch it before it drops to the floor.

“Give me your hands,” he says, stepping back enough to allow room between us.

My panties are still on, but who am I to argue?

I toss the bra onto the pile of discarded clothing and hold up my hands. He tightens the cuffs, their leather pulling softly against my wrists with the movement, and brings them through the ring over my head.

The wood is cool against my back as I lean against it.

Alexander takes a step back, raking his gaze over me. I’ve never been insecure about my body. No more than anyone else, I suppose, but standing here on display like this with his eyes taking stock of me, I can’t help but want to curl into myself.

He takes his time shucking out of his suit jacket and laying it across the bench. Then he undoes the cuffs of his pale-gray shirt and folds the sleeves up to his elbows. Each fold is perfect before he moves on to the next one.

“Tell me, Megan. What should I do with you?” He runs the tip of his nose along my cheek, up to my ear. “Such a naughty girl today.”

My insides melt when his tongue flicks my earlobe.

“Such a bad, bad girl.” He grabs hold of my hips and pushes me back against the post. “Did you really think my men wouldn’t keep me informed of where you are?”

He brings his mouth to the soft flesh where my shoulder meets my neck and bites down. I wince at the sharp bite, but it’s short-lived. He licks away the mark.

“Did you think you’d be allowed to do anything that would prevent my baby from taking root in your belly?” He splays his hand across my stomach and presses.

“I… You’re being unreasonable.” It would be easier to be more forceful if he wasn’t touching me. He moves his hand from my hip to my ass, squeezing my cheek until I rise up on my toes.

“And then you leave my office when you were told to stay put. Instead. I find you down here in my club.” He kisses my collarbone, then flicks a tongue over my nipple as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me.

“I… she was hurt.” My words barely register they come out so weak and soft.

Alexander presses his face between my thighs, inhaling deeply.

“Such sweetness.” He slips one finger beneath the thin fabric covering my pussy and pulls it to the side. As he looks up at me, our eyes lock just before his tongue brushes across my clit.

My legs weaken, but the cuffs won’t let me buckle. I press myself back against the post for support.

“This pussy.” He licks his lips, then hooks his arm beneath one of my legs, pulling it up and resting it on his broad shoulder.

“Alexan—p” I can’t get the rest of his name out as his tongue swirls around my clit. I roll my head back against the post, grateful for the support it gives me.

He angles his head so he can run his tongue farther through my folds, teasing the entrance of my pussy. The metal chain linking the cuffs clinks against the iron loop they’re secured through as I squirm beneath his tongue.

Soft lashings across my clit drive me closer and closer to an edge I would gladly nosedive over.

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