Page 72 of Whatever Lola Wants

She began unbuttoning her blouse, her fingers moving quickly over the tiny mother-of-pearl discs. She tugged the tails out of the waistband of her skirt, then slipped it off.

His eyes gleamed appreciatively at the frothy pink lace covering her breasts. “Nice.”

She rose to her knees on the bed to unhook her skirt. A swift tug took it down over her hips, revealing the matching thong.

“Very nice,” he murmured.

She sat on her butt to work the skirt past her knees, kicking it aside along with her shoes, then stood in the matching bra and panties. The way he was watching her made her feel both powerful and vulnerable, and the contradiction was making her head spin.

She slowed down, determined to make him wild. She unhooked the bra with deliberate movements, letting the straps slide down her arms as it fell forward. Flicking it away, she hooked her thumbs in the thin strips of lace over her hips and worked the panties down, giving a little shimmy of her hips to help them to the floor.

She stepped out of the undies, nudged them and the bra aside with her foot, and smiled. “Naked. Sir.”

Eyes sparkling with a combination of laughter and lust, he took his time looking her over. Her nipples tightened, her muscles subtly quivering under his regard. Her thighs rubbed together, growing slick with the moisture that dripped from her pussy as her need grew. He saw the small movement and smiled.

“You know, for someone who’s not submissive, you sure get turned on by these ‘traditional’ situations.”

It’s not being submissive. It’s you. She cleared her throat. “Must be something in the air.”

“Must be,” he murmured.

He gave her a last, lingering look, then strode over to her closet. She frowned. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, just pulled open the door of the walk in and disappeared into the racks of clothes and shoes. She was on the point of following him in when he reemerged. When she saw what he held in his hand, her eyes went wide.

“Where did you get that?”

He undid the knot on one of the bundles of wheat colored rope as he strode toward her. “I stashed ‘em in one of your winter boots last week.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

His eyes flashed with triumph. “I knew you wouldn’t look there. You said you were done with shoes that covered your toes until at least October.”

She licked her lips. “Why did you stash bondage rope in my closet?”

“So I’d have it handy for just this occasion.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You planned this?”

“Sweetheart.” He was openly laughing now. “I’m a Dom. I plan everything.”

She stifled the urge to roll her eyes; her butt was still tender. “What’s your plan for that?” She nodded to indicate the rope in his hands.

He came to a stop in front of her. “Bondage blowjob. Put your arms behind your back, hands on your elbows.”

Bondage blowjob? Jesus. She thought briefly about refusing—no wonder he’d gotten her to agree before springing this on her—but a deal was a deal. That was, she told herself, the only reason why she obediently put her arms behind her back and grabbed her elbows.

Yeah, right. It has nothing to do with how wet your pussy just got.

As he walked around behind her, she rubbed her thighs together again.

“I saw that,” he whispered in her ear.

She wisely kept her mouth shut.

Chuckling, he began to bind her arms. Her right wrist to her left forearm, left wrist to right forearm. The rope had looked rough, and it felt rough, but not harshly so. Hemp rope, she realized as the sweet, grassy smell tickled her nose. The type of choice for rope tops, and especially suspension tops.

He finished binding her arms and stepped back. “Wiggle a bit,” he told her. “Try to get out of that.”

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