Page 8 of Naughty Bedtime Stories

Anything to get him to touch her, anything to finally know the escape this man could give her. Yes, she wanted the escape. She wanted it with him. “I’m ready, Ryan.”

CHAPTER SIX

The car was dark, the engine all but silent as it idled in place, the air heavy with anticipation, with a sexual charge. Ryan had never wanted a woman’s submission the way he wanted Sarah’s, but true submission was given freely. It was a choice, not a reaction.

“What makes tonight the night?” Ryan asked. “What happened in the hospital?”

She stared at him a moment and then started to turn away. He captured her hand, held her in place. “Talk to me, Sarah. Is something wrong with your father?”

“No,” she said. “I mean yes, but not his health. He had good news on his treatments. But he’s changed. He’s not questioning my decisions. He’s not yelling about what went right or wrong. I know how to deal with my father who rants and yells and demands. But he said he believes in me. He said he should have listened to me sooner. Ryan, he said I have thingsunder control.”

He narrowed his gaze. “And you’re afraid you don’t.”

“No,” she said. “I know I have control now…it’s more the pressure to stay in control I’m suddenly feeling more than ever,and it’s freaking me out. It’s just…it’s intense.” She sighed. “Tonight…I don’t want that pressure. I don’t want to make the decisions. I don’t want to be the one in charge.” This was the answer he wanted, the right answer. Ryan studied her a long moment, the pulse of arousal pumping through his veins, into his cock. He slid his hand up her arm, over her shoulder, and gently let his fingers settle on the delicate skin of her neck. He could feel the quickening of her pulse beneath them, almost taste her as his lips lowered a breath from hers, and lingered.

He inhaled the scent of her, vanilla, honeysuckle and innocence, the kind of innocence a woman had when she hadn’t discovered her true self, her true desires. His lips brushed hers, his teeth nipping roughly, before he licked the delicate flesh. “Take off your panties, Sarah.”

Her lips parted in shock, a delicate sound, as delicate as her sensibilities appeared to all those who didn’t know her secret desires. Proved to him by the way she showed no other resistance until voices sounded nearby, and she feared discovery, and that someone but he would know those secrets. She jerked back as if to pull away, to look for the visitors’ location. He held her steady. He’d known they were there. He was testing her limits, testing her trust in him.

“You let me worry about the rest of the world.” He made the statement an order. “You focus on what I tell you to do.” He leaned back, studied her, allowed his hand to fall from her neck when he really wanted to drag her to his lap and fuck her right here. But that was too much for her now, too much too soon, so instead he said, “Unless you want to stop here, stop now?”

Seconds ticked by, the voices growing closer, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “No,” she whispered. “No, I don’t want to stop.” She turned and eased her skirt upward, flashing the lacy trim of her thigh-highs as she lifted her hips andtugged a strip of black lace down her thighs and over her high heels.

She turned back to him and dangled them off one finger. “Do they please you,Master?”

The words rolled off her lips, as if practiced in those fantasies she’d shared with him, and his cock thickened in response, his zipper stretched. A slow smile slid to his mouth before one of his hands closed around the panties and the other wove into her hair and pulled her mouth to his. Sliding his tongue past her lips, he kissed her deeply, passionately, drinking the sweet nectar that was Sarah—a forbidden fruit for far too long. “Yes, Sarah,” he said when he tore his lips from hers. “You please me very much.” Pleased him in ways unique to her.

Thirty minutes later, Ryan pulled the car to a halt inside the security gates of the sprawling, three-story, twelve-thousand-square-foot white mansion that sat on twenty acres and was their destination. He’d tried to take Sarah to his home, where they could be alone, intending to slowly ease her into his world. Sarah had quickly rejected his well-intended plan, though, insisting that “ready” meant “ready,” which had spoken volumes as far as Ryan was concerned. It had told him that, indeed, shewasready—and not just ready, but also that she wouldn’t give herself an escape from facing her most intimate fears and desires. Ready to discover what she was capable of by allowing herself the freedom of destroying boundaries, ready to take on the new challenges in her life. And so Ryan had brought her here, to the society, where a night of discovery and pleasure awaited them both.

“So this is the Alexander Quarters you spoke of?” she asked.

“Named for the owner, and the society’s president, Marcus Alexander,” he confirmed, having encouraged her to ask questions on the ride here, knowing trust between them would soon be paramount.

“It’s magnificent,” she said, her voice quavering slightly in what seemed to be a combination of awe and nerves.

He followed her gaze, seeing what she was seeing. The mansion was alight with delicate spotlights, and framed by a massive green lawn and a circular driveway leading to a mountainous ivory stairwell with huge white pillars. Inside the curve of the driveway, a rock waterfall was aglow in a pale blue haze. Various structures, all fetish fantasylands, sat at locations spread across the property.

Ryan hit the remote control on his visor, and a garage door off the side of the house, used exclusively by the six Round Table Masters in the society, began a slow upward glide. The Round Table was a group of six masters who were the elite of the elite, a court of law for the society, with Marcus as judge. Ryan was one of those six.

By the time the garage was resealed with them inside the building, he was already opening Sarah’s door, watching as her skirt rode high on her long legs, a sight all the more tantalizing with the absence of her panties. Seeming to understand where his thoughts were, she stood, her gaze avoiding his, then quickly, primly inched her skirt downward, as if he wasn’t about to take it off her anyway. “You’re nervous,” he observed.

She glanced at him from under long, dark lashes. “I… It’s just…”

He shut the door and pulled her close to him. “If you’re nervous, say you’re nervous.”

She blinked up at him, the surprise in her expression at the sudden contact turning to warmth as she melted into him, all soft, willing woman, her fingers tentatively spraying across his chest. She was petite, delicate, a sweet flower with an exotic undertone that was part innocence, part princess and part wanton concubine. His cock thickened, tension coiling in his gut, hot tension, born of desire. The kind oftension and arousal that a recent bout of boredom had declared unattainable, with no solution to be found, no matter how daring the society game he’d tried. Yet, this inexperienced, sensual woman had him on the edge, had him hungry. He wanted her more than he remembered wanting anyone in a very long time, which only made the urgency to set the parameters for the night more imperative. Once the play began, it was critical he know where their boundaries were, and how far he could push them.

“Are you nervous, Sarah?” he repeated, when she still hadn’t replied.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But—”

“No buts,” he said. “If I ask you what you feel, you tell me. You don’t own your inhibitions tonight, Sarah—I do. Just like I own your pleasure.” His hand slid over her backside, and he began inching her skirt upward. “Nervous can be good, even arousing, when it’s created by the anticipation and excitement of what’s to come next.” The hemline rose higher, exposing her backside, and he watched her swallow hard, knew she was feeling some of that anticipation now. He palmed her cheek and caressed downward, lifting her leg to his waist. “Are you still nervous?”

She gasped, her fingers curling around his shirt, and he slid his fingers up her thigh, where she was bare to him, no panties to stop him from sliding right into all the wet heat of her arousal.

She laughed, and those nerves of hers were etched in the sound. Then she buried her face in his shoulder, her spine arched. She whispered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Don’t hide from me, Sarah,” he ordered, still teasing her intimately, sliding a finger over the slick, wet folds of her core that told him above all else how much she wanted this. Heheard her intake of breath as he slid a finger inside her, felt her shiver, but still she didn’t look at him. “Sarah. Look. At. Me.”

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