Page 105 of Captivated By You

Her eyes tracked me as I removed my tie, tossed it over the back of a chair, then unfastened the top button on my shirt. I didn’t speak. She didn’t either. I crossed over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, removing the bottle of wine she’d already opened. I poured a glass. Took a sip. Let the ice-cold fluid slither down my throat.

I walked up behind her. The lack of conversation only added to the tension zinging off the walls. We both knew what was about to happen, yet neither of us wanted to rush it. This wasn’t the time to rip off each other’s clothes and fuck, fast and hard. I wanted to appreciate every moment, fixing the memories deep within my mind. Athena was to be savored, like fifty-year-old scotch, not knocked back like cheap shit from the local convenience store.

“Breathe, Athena,” I murmured.

I filled my mouth with wine but didn’t swallow. Setting the glass beside Athena’s, I leaned over the couch and cupped my hand under her chin, tipping back her head. Our eyes met. I eased her mouth open with my thumb, then connected our lips, letting the wine seep into her mouth. Her throat moved beneath my hand as she swallowed what I gave her. I deepened the kiss and was rewarded with a rasping groan.

I released her and slowly walked around the couch. Holding out my hand, I said, “Come with me.”

She grazed her bottom lip with her teeth, gracefully rising to her feet. I picked up both glasses of wine in my free hand and led her to my bedroom. My housekeeper had dimmed the lights and lit a few candles as requested. They cast a warm glow over the room, detracting from the dark, masculine colors.

I freed her hand and set the glasses of wine on the nightstand. Taking a seat on the end of the bed, I twisted my cufflink, my eyes locked on to Athena’s face.

“Take off your dress,” I demanded, the order clear in my tone.

She didn’t hide the slight tremble to her hand as she reached behind her to ease down the zipper. The silk material slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her feet, revealing a lacy cream bra and matching panties and… fuck me… stockings and a garter belt. I’d been so anxious to touch her earlier in the bathroom that I hadn’t noticed them.

I bit back a groan, my cock hardening inside my pants, but I didn’t let a flicker of a reaction cross my face.

She made a move to take off her bra.

“Leave it on.” I stood, walking by her over to a tall dresser. I crouched, opening the bottom drawer.

“What are you doing?” Athena whispered, speaking for the first time since I arrived home.

Scanning my eyes over the myriad choices, I removed a vibrator, one I’d never used before, and a sleep mask, and tossed them on the bed, my aim straight and true. Athena’s wide-eyed stare moved between the items lying in the middle of my bed and me.

“Ryker?”

I crooked my finger, beckoning her forward. She moved woodenly, her steps faltering. I tilted up her chin.

“Trust me,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over her satiny soft lips. “I want this to be the best night of your life.”

“It will be,” she said. “I’m with you.”

Well, fuck.

I palmed her breast, scraping the pad of my thumb over her nipple. It puckered beneath my touch, clearly visible through the thin covering of lace. She shivered, drawing in a sharp breath.

“Is there anything you don’t want to try?” I asked.

She stared at me, her gaze uncertain. “Try? Um, I’m not sure. Like, what are my choices?”

I laughed. “Too many to mention. Come on, Athena. You’re not the shy type. Everyone has something they don’t like. I’d rather not stumble upon that this evening, not when I want it to be perfect.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you a Dom?”

I laughed again. “You’ve been reading too many books. Just because I like to use sex toys doesn’t mean I’m into BDSM. And to answer your question, no, I’m not. Authoritative, yes, but not a Dominant. My preferences lie firmly in sex between consenting adults being a partnership, not one exerting control over the other, however consensual it may be. Besides, you’re hardly submissive material, darling. Far too opinionated.”

She ignored my comment, although I detected a brief pout.

“How many toys do you have in there?” she asked, glancing behind her toward my dresser.

“Lots.” I cradled her jaw and bent my head to kiss her. “Stop stalling.” I traced my tongue along her plump bottom lip. “Do you hate a tongue in your pussy?” I nibbled her earlobe. “Or sucking cock?” I trailed my nose down her cheek, breathing in her scent. “What about having your neck kissed?” I tested the theory, placing an open-mouthed kiss directly over her carotid artery where a pulse beat wildly. “What about anal?”

She blushed the color of beetroot, then ducked her head in a very un-Athena-like manner.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I’ve only ever had sex once.”

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