Page 23 of Naughty Bedtime Stories

She reached for the flute and filled it. While she normally would pass on the champagne, she wasn’t willing to blow tonight on nerves and inhibitions. Tonight was about freedom, about a night of “sensual exploration”—whatever that turned out to mean, and wherever it might led. And courage—even if it required a little bubbly for relaxation.

By the time Kim took the first sip of the bubbly liquid, the driver was already pulling the car into the parking garage of a large downtown building a few miles from the bookstore. A sudden rush of panic slid through Kim at the unexpectedly quick arrival at their destination. There was no time to loosen up and mentally prepare to abandon her fears. Quickly, Kim tossed back the contents of her flute. The bubbles tickled her throat, and lightweight drinker that she was, her head felt instantly lighter. The snug-fitting brassiere V of her bodice held up by spaghetti straps somehow felt less exposing than it had only minutes before. Even the slit up her right side that stopped midthigh seemed more sexy than extreme.

The car pulled to a halt in front of the elevators, and in seconds the driver was opening her door.

“Top floor,” he instructed and dangled a silver key before her. “This will allow you access to the gallery. Use the red elevator door just inside the building.”

Kim slid out of the car, refusing to let herself be shy about the way the slit on her dress split to her thigh. Now that she was here, now that she couldn’t easily turn back, she was eager to move forward, eager to see where the night would lead.

A few minutes later, Kim had traveled twenty-seven floors in the private elevator and adrenaline was positively racing through her body. Any second now, she’d be with Blake, and who knew where the night would lead? He was right, anticipation was an amazing, sexy thing.

When finally the moment of truth came and the doors of the car began to slide open, Kim sucked in a breath at the sight of Blake standing before her,waiting for her. On some distant level, she registered music—a violin she thought—but it was nothing but backdrop to the man who, in that moment, appeared larger than life. Taller and broader than even her midnight fantasies had painted him, he was a sight to see, his fitted black pants and a deep royal blue shirt the color of his eyes accenting his lean, muscular body.

But it was the power, the dominant sexuality crackling off of him that seduced her, mesmerized her. He was the epitome of masculine perfection, of a man in control, a man she desired more than she remembered ever desiring another. She wondered what it would be like tobecontrolled by him, to be beneath him, on top of him. These were not unexpected or unfamiliar thoughts, and they aroused her, induced a tingly wet ache between her thighs.

She stepped forward, her strappy black high-heeled sandals clicking on glossy white tile, the doors creaking shut behind her, leaving her in a small lobby-type area with only her and Blake. His gaze slid unapologetically, appreciatively, over her body, taking her in, starting from her red-painted toenails, and slowly lifting to her legs, her waist, and then lingering on her breasts. Kim felt that inspection in every nerve ending of her body, felt his stare as if he’d touched her, and God, she wanted him to touch her.

“I thought for sure you’d talk yourself out of coming tonight,” he said softly, stepping forward to meet her toe-to-toe, his eyes connecting with hers, searing her with the heat simmering in their depths.

“You look amazing, Kimberly.”

“Thank you,” she said shyly, the curious reply as automatic as opening her eyes when she woke, but she hated how much she sounded like the prim-and-proper teacher’s daughter, and she tried to recover, to play the game of seduction. “You dress up pretty nicely yourself, Doctor.”

He smiled, a sexy heated smile that tingled through her body. “Glad you approve.” His gaze held hers and she could feel him sizing her up, and she wondered what he saw, what he thought.

Suddenly, Kim’s heart was thundering in her chest, her nipples were tight, her breasts heavy. Or maybe it wasn’t so sudden: maybe this moment, this reaction to his nearness, had been coming for over a month, since his first visit to the store. Silence and cracking heat collided around them, and unsure what to do, what to say, Kim bit her lip and glanced to her left, down a hallway where spotlights illuminated a row of paintings, where voices seemed to merge and multiple. “It sounds like you have a full house.”

“Only in the main gallery,” he said, pulling her attention back to him, and offering her his hand.

“We’re going to the private collection reserved for a select group of invitation-only guests.” Kim slid her hand into his, heat skittering up her arm, across her chest even before he softly added, “Shall we do a little treasure hunting together, Kimberly?”

Blake led Kim past the nude Greek statues in the lobby and toward a private hallway, far too aware of her every move, her every breath. He considered himself a man of control, and in fact, considered control crucial to his character, his career, his ability to save lives on the operating table. But he wasn’t in control tonight, or Kimberly wouldn’t be here. He was breaking every rule in his book by inviting her here, by not finding a reason to cancel, even after his invitation. He reserved his sex “play” for those outside his professional life, for whom he felt no emotion, for those he knew would not be a distraction.

Kim was a distraction. She’d made him come to the store, drew him in, had him creating reasons to visit. That wasn’t a man in control. Yet…he couldn’t seem to turn away from her. There was something about her innocence, her undiscovered sexuality—which he knew she wanted to discover—that drew him, that called to the Master in him, that knew she would make the ultimate submissive.

It convinced him that denying himself her pleasure—and he wanted her to feel pleasure, wanted to be the man who made her let go and be free—was why she stayed so fresh in his mind, why he downright burned for the woman.

They passed erotic paintings illuminated with spotlights, Greek paintings of men and women engaging in the nature of pleasure, and he watched her face, watched her gaze stroking the images, aware of how much he wanted her body stroking his cock. How much he wanted inside this woman—wanted her begging for orgasm becausehemadeherwant it as much as he did, which was too much, yes, far too much for comfort. He felt the difference in himself with her, knew his desire for Kim reached beyond arousal, beyond the protectiveness he felt for anyone he took into the Society games.

He drew her passed a sealed entryway and into a narrow room where a unique piece of history was displayed: a re-creation of a famous Egyptian tapestry that was ten inches high and covered 8.5 feet of the wall inside a custom frame.

“Amazing,” she whispered, her eyes wide with wonder, as she pulled away from him to walk the length of it. “The Turin Erotic Papyrus.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Eleven-fifty B.C.E…and considered the first men’s magazine by many.” She turned back to the artwork. “Twelve erotic images of men and women in various sexual positions followed by a series of animals depicted performing human comical nonsexual tasks.”

He wasn’t surprised she knew of the tapestry, not after witnessing her interest in history through their talks in the bookstore. “Sex and comedy,” he said, stepping to her side. “Sounds like entertainment to me, not so unlike what we consider it to be today.”

“Sex and comedy,” she repeated, giving him a thoughtful sideways glance. “Those are your two forms of entertainment?”

“You have something against sex and comedy?” he challenged.

“I’m just not sure I’d define sex as entertainment.”

He turned to face her, and she did the same. “Then how do you define sex?”

She considered that a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Her reply confirmed what he’d suspected. She’d never fully explored her sexuality, never truly been pleasured, perhaps never allowed herself to delve into her wants and needs. “Sex is pleasure, and pleasure can be whatever you, as a person, define it to be.”

Insecurity flashed in her expression before her chin lifted. “I’d say I have too little information to properly define what pleasure is to me.”

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