Page 35 of Reveal Me
‘Me too.’ Her eyes meet mine again. ‘It’s all I can think about.’
I glide my hand up over her bare thigh, tracing small circles over her smooth flesh with my finger. ‘Are you wet for me?’
She reaches for the champagne placed in front of her. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘You don’t have to call me that.’ Her thighs tense as I inch my fingers higher. I’m dying to slip them inside that lace and find out exactly how wet she is, but delayed gratification is all part of the experience. By the time I finish with her, I want her begging for her release, screaming my name, and coming so hard she’s dazed for days.
‘I like calling you sir,’ she admits. Either she’s been reading up on this life, or she’s naturally submissive. ‘It makes me feel…’ her eyelids flutter closed for a second, ‘subversively sinful.’
‘Happy to help your rebellion.’ I slide my fingers higher again. ‘How was your week?’
She glances around, checking if anyone is watching. Her eyes land on the show the politician is putting on, and her mouth pops open. Her thighs flex again. She’s practically squirming. Good.
‘We’re in a sex club and you’re asking about my week?’ She wets her lip, then turns her attention from the lascivious scene behind her, and back to me. Dilated pupils stare back from behind her jewelled mask, burning with heat and hunger.
‘I guess I am.’ In the three months Samantha was with me, I don’t think I ever asked about her week. Or ever asked her anything, in fact. But the princess intrigues me. Several times, I considered inviting her over under some pretence or other, but that would be in breach of our contract. The rules are there for a reason. I learnt the hard way that it’s imperative everyone knows where they stand. And no one mistakes this for something that it’s not. Not that she would. She made that abundantly clear the other night. She’s fucking royalty. There’s no way in hell she’d fall for me. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about. Which is why I don’t mind the eye contact. Besides, watching the way her pupils burn when she’s turned on makes me harder than steel.
Unable to help myself, I brush my fingers higher, skimming over the lace sheathing her pussy. Her breath hitches in her throat. The material is soaked through.
‘Well? How was your week?’ I continue stroking her, teasing her.
‘It was…’ Her eyes flutter closed behind the mask.
‘Eyes on me, princess.’ They fly open as I take my hand away.
‘It was long.’
‘What did you do to pass the time?’ And more importantly, why do I care? I should quit the small talk, but for some reason, the little details of her life are big details to me.
‘I painted.’ There’s that defiance in her tone again. Like even painting is a form of rebellion. Maybe it is where she comes from.
My curiosity peaks. A flashback of her examining the art lining my walls springs to the forefront of my mind. ‘What do you paint?’
‘Anything and everything. I used to favour landscapes. Sometimes portraits.’ She hesitates for a second. ‘This week’s pieces are rather different.’ Her eyes fall to my hand, and shelicks her lips. ‘Forgive me, Sir,’ she smirks. ‘But do you seriously want to discuss art now?’
‘I want to discussyourart. I want to know you more.’ The admission slips out before I can stop it. What the fuck is wrong with me? ‘How are this week’s pieces different?’
Her head snaps up until our eyes meet. ‘They’re more sensual.’
I can only imagine. My hand gravitates to her thigh again. The urge to touch her, taste her again is utterly consuming.
‘I like your hands on my body,’ she whispers.
‘Good, because my hands are going to be all over you–sooner, rather than later.’ I push her legs further apart, taking a minute to appreciate the view. My lips skim over her jawline, then down over her neck. Her nipples tighten against the lace over her chest.
‘Are you trying to make me combust?’
‘Quite the opposite, in fact.’ The familiar scent of her perfume surrounds me. It’s feminine and erotic and utterly fucking intoxicating. My fingers brush over her sex again, and she hisses out a breath.
‘Are you certain of that, Mr Beckett?’
‘Absolutely. Now, be a good girl and finish your drink. We have a date in one of the Surrender Suites.’ I can’t hold off any longer.
‘The Surrender Suite,’ she repeats, her voice thick with desire.
‘It’s one of several. We’re starting in the smaller one. Do you trust me?’ Our eyes lock again. ‘For this to work, it’s imperative that you do.’
Her throat bobs as she swallows. She nods once.
