Page 10 of Naughty Bedtime Stories

Sarah stared after him, repeating his words in her head, no doubt the meaning meantnakedandat his mercy.No. No. No. Not happening. This man might be sexy, but he had a ruthless quality to him. He’d take her control and never give it back. And it was then she realized that her ability to explore herself, her wants, desires, her fears, was only possible because of the unexplainable trust she had in Ryan, something that remarkably defied their families’ rivalry.

“Sarah,” Ryan said, urging her to turn to him.

Sarah whirled around. “Ryan—”

“I have no intention of sharing you, Sarah,” he said, his hands settling warmly, firmly on her arms. His touch sent a deep shiver down her spine, searing her with possessiveness, with command, which somehow managed to comfort and arouse rather than intimidate as Marcus had done. “I never intended to share you,” he continued. “You’re off-limits and Marcus knows that now. You don’t belong to him, or the society. Any play we take part in tonight will be behind closed doors. Exactly why we’re going to my private chambers now where we will be alone. Where you can watch and explore, under the safety of seclusion.”

Seclusion. Yes. She wanted seclusion. She’d thought the society would be like Silk, a wild festival of sex games, where she’d simply blend in, where the sheer volume of sex acts would consume her inhibitions. Maybe even, if she was honest, a way to hide from what Ryan made her feel. She wanted to keep this about sex, when she feared she was starting to feel more for him. But it was clear now that this place wouldn’t let her hide. Ryan wouldn’t let her hide. But he’d also promised her protection, and he’d given it to her with the offer of privacy. He’d known what she needed more than she did. Maybe she’d sensed that, maybe that was why he was safe.

His hand slid down her arm, goose bumps gathering inits wake, her nipples pebbling and aching, until he drew her fingers inside his. Again, he walked backward, holding her stare even as he led her toward those same double mahogany doors they’d been approaching before Marcus appeared, where she assumed his private quarters were. And she followed willingly, watching him with more of that nervous anticipation, as he punched a security code into a panel, shoved a door open and turned to face her again. He stepped close, his big body touching her, claiming her.

“Before you go inside,” he said, his hands framing her face, “let’s be one hundred percent clear about something, Sarah. Tonight has nothing to do with Delights or Deluxe or any family dispute or competition created by that dispute. This is about you and me. You do this for you, no other reason. You have nothing to prove to me.”

“I know,” she agreed, surprised yet pleased with both his declaration, and the gentleness of his touch, knowing the primal male beneath such tenderness. It stroked her confidence, stroked the ache between her thighs to create a thrumming need. “But you have something to prove to me.”

His lips lifted, his eyes alight with a hint of amusement. “I have something to prove to you?”

“That’s right,” she assured him. “You said giving away control would give me control.” Though right now she was thinking more about him giving her pleasure than about control. “Prove it.”

She watched his expression instantly darken, his eyes heat, before he maneuvered her to stand in front of him, her back to his chest. His hands once again settled on her shoulders, his hips framed her backside, and her body tingled everywhere he touched, everywhere shewanted him to touch.

“All you have to do now is step past the threshold, and I’llshow you what you want to know. You will be mine for the night. I will beyour master.”

Sarah felt his words in the wet heat between her thighs, in the pebbling ache of her nipples, in the nervous anticipation that, most definitely, was arousal. She wanted this, she wanted him. She entered his private chambers, and his world became hers.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The door shut softly behind Sarah as she entered Ryan’s private chambers, a moment before dim lighting illuminated the ceiling, leaving the rest of the room, and the erotic secrets it might hold, in the cover of shadows. A large room with several doors, a living area and a bedroom, she thought, as she tried to gain some sense of location, of control. Or perhaps distract herself from the uncertainty of what was to come.

Ryan stepped behind her, his arms closing around her, his lips brushing her ear. His breath trickled seductively along her neck. “Finally alone,” he whispered, one of his hands flattening intimately on her stomach. “Are you scared, Sarah?”

Oh, yeah, she thought. And excited, and aroused, and impossibly turned-on. “A little,” she replied, and then barely contained a moan as he molded his hands to her breasts.

“Tell me what scares you,” he replied, his thumbs stroking her nipples, kneading her with a hard, erotic touch. She bit her lip, holding back the need to moan again. Already he commanded her body; already she was embarrassingly wet, embarrassingly capable of orgasm.

“You,” she replied, her head falling back to his shoulders,the pleasure of having this man finally touching her almost too much to bear. How long had she wanted this? How long had she been tantalizingly aware of the dark desires this man awakened in her? How long had she blamed him for those desires, and avoided him, avoided those temptations, when the truth was, she was doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t let her do—hide from herself.

“I don’t scare you,” he said, as if reading her mind. He tugged her dress up her hips as he had in the garage and then pressed her bare bottom against the thick bulge of his erection. Acting on instinct, she arched into him, even as he squeezed her breasts and rolled her nipples with a tight pinch of each that she felt all the way to the ache in between her thighs.

“I own you during our play session, Sarah,” he said, turning her to face him, his hand sliding to her face. “And if I want to know what scares you, you tell me what scares you.” His tone was demanding, his touch firm as his palm slid to her backside. “There is a price for disobedience.” He caressed one cheek of her backside, and then lightly but solidly smacked her there.

Sarah sucked in a breath, feeling no pain, but plenty of surprise and, yes, pleasure. A thrilling sting that started at the spot of the connection and traveled like a flame along a fuse, spread through every inch of her body.

“What scares you, Sarah?” he demanded, sliding his hand over her backside with the promise that he would spank her again, harder this time. And Lord help her, she actually wanted him to. Adrenaline set her blood coursing, her heart racing. This was a side of herself she’d never seen, never known, a side Ryan brought out in her.

“You do—you scare me,” Sarah hissed.

“Wrong answer,” he said, a sharp note of disapproval in his voice. “We both know I’m not what scares you. The first rule of play, Sarah, is trust, and there is a price for violating thattrust.” He released her, leaving her skirt at her hips. “Take everything off but your shoes.”

Stunned by both the absence of his touch, and the order, Sarah stood immobile a moment. Undress. He wanted her to undress while he watched, while he judged her and her body. While he remained fully clothed. Of course, she was standing there with her skirt at her waist anyway, which had to look ridiculous.

“Undress, Sarah,” he repeated, his voice low with warning yet somehow gently prodding.

It was the way he managed to both soothe and demand, she realized, that had drawn her to him, drawn her here tonight. Made her feel safe to explore this side of herself, a side she knew existed but had for so long suppressed. With a deeply inhaled breath, Sarah slid her skirt into place down her hips, then tugged the zipper at her side down, as well. She shrugged the material off her shoulders. Her dress fell to her feet, and she stepped away from it, her gaze riveted to Ryan, looking for some reaction.

He stared at her, his gaze hooded, his arms crossed, his jaw set. “All but the shoes,” he reminded her.

Sarah reached behind her, nervous and fumbling with the bra hook, then helplessly glanced in his direction. He moved around her, unhooking the bra and caressing it off her shoulders. His touch was again gentle, yet the crackle in the air still sang with the promise of something darker, of reprimand.

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