Page 27 of Tell Me What You Want

“No, don’t be sorry, sweetness,” he whispers. “We’ll play another game. Do you dare?”

“Yes ...,” I sigh, more excited with every second.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes ...”

“Without limits?”

“But no S and M.”

I can feel him grinning, when we hear a knock on the door. Eric pulls away from me. I turn around and see the waiter has brought our order on a beautiful glass-and-silver table. Eric uncorks the champagne, pours two glasses, and offers a toast.

“To how much fun we’re going to have, Miss Flores.”

I gaze at him. He gazes back.

I tap my glass against his and nod with as much confidence as I can.

“Cheers to that, Mr.Zimmerman.”

11

Laughing, teasing, and touching each other, we drink almost the entire bottle of champagne out on the beautiful and enormous terrace. Madrid is at my feet, and I love the view. I’m still giving a lot of thought to the proposal Eric made at the restaurant.

Should I accept or reject it, given what it means?

I’m a little tipsy. I’m not used to drinking—and champagne, even less. I watch Eric talk on his cell phone. Dressed in those low-slung jeans and that black T-shirt, he really gets me going. He’s strong and athletic. He’s the type of man you can’t help but stare at, what with his clear blue eyes and short hair.

I hungrily check out his whole body and notice the top button of his jeans is undone. It excites me. An instant later, he drops the cell and grabs the ice bucket. He looks my way, his face bright. Hot. I’m very hot. He pours the last of the champagne into our glasses and jams the bottle upside down in the ice. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he whispers, then kisses my forehead.

I’m suddenly nervous. The moment I’ve been wanting, desiring, and imagining since I saw him waiting for me with his Ferrari at the door of my apartment building has arrived. When we finally go into one of those beautiful and spacious bedrooms, I can’t take my eyes off the huge bed. Eric moves about the room; suddenly, sensual music surrounds us. He sits and puts one hand on the bed. With the other, he lifts his glass and takes a drink.

“Are you ready to play, sweetness?”

He’s so sexy, so boyish ... I’m willing. “Yes,” I manage to respond.

He nods and gets up to open a drawer.

He pulls out two black silk handkerchiefs and some gloves. This surprises and scares me all at once. But unable to move, I wait for him to come to me. And he does. He kisses me provocatively as his hand squeezes my behind.

“You have a sweet little ass. I want it so much.”

I step back. I’ve never had anal sex!

He grabs me by the ass again and squeezes me against him.

“Relax, sweetness. I’m not going to take you that way today. It excites me to know I’ll be the first—I will, won’t I?—but when we do it, you’ll be so excited that you’ll feel pleasure, not pain. Trust me.”

I nod in response to his question and swallow the knot in my throat.

“Today we’ll play with the senses,” he says. “I’m going to cover your eyes with this handkerchief. Touch it.”

I obey without a word and discover the smoothness of the fabric. Silk.

“What you will feel when I have you nude in bed will be as soft as what you felt when touching this handkerchief.”

That stirs my interest again. I assent. “I love your eyes,” I whisper, unable to contain myself. “Your gaze.”

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