Page 16 of Size Doesn't Matter

An urge that was almost foreign to Sophie now.

Five years ago, when she’d first started modelling, it was an everyday occurrence. It had been intimidating, having all those people poking and prodding at her like a slab of meat. But slowly she’d learned that her body, with all of its wobbly bits and stretchmarks and cellulite, was nothing to be ashamed of at all.

Popular media had spent years teaching her everything that was wrong with her, when in fact it was all her “flaws” that made her so bankable. An instant sensation, both with audiences and designers alike. She’d had to unlearn years of false negativity and embrace her new truth.

Sophie was desirable.

Sexy.

Sensual.

Wanted.

Nowshewas the intimidating one.

But standing there in front of Jack and his piercing blue gaze, letting him visibly devour every inch of her, letting him judge her, was…terrifying, but she fought the urge to cover herself and let him look his fill.

“I know you don’t like the word, angel,” he said after a solid nerve-racking minute of silence, “but I can’t think of another one more appropriate right now.” He cupped her cheek and pinned her with his electric gaze. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Her lips quirked up at the corners of her mouth, and a nervous yet relieved laugh huffed out of her. Sophie didn’t like that word, but hearing it fall from Jack’s very kissable lips, hearing the sincerity in his rich, velvety timbre, made it a lot easier to bear.

To believe.

She bit her lip to hold in a whimper of need, but she could do nothing about the way her heart raced or how her chest heaved with every breath. She wanted him to kiss her again, wanted to feel his silken tongue wrestle with hers. Wanted to feel his fingers on her naked breasts, between her legs, inside her pussy. Wanted to hear the command in his voice as he whispered in her ear, wanted to know the strength of his body as he held her down and fucked his way inside her.

Suddenly, wanting wasn’t enough.

Sophieneededthese things.

Neededhim.

“Jack,” she whispered, her eyelids fluttering as she leaned closer and tilted her head, angling for another kiss, but he held a finger to her lips, silencing her. Pushing her back.

Putting her in her place.

“You will call me ‘sir’,” he said, cocking that brow at her again, waiting for her response.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, the submissive action settling low in her belly, relaxing her and releasing the last of her tension. Grounding her in the moment.

Jack smiled, pleased. “Good girl,” he said quietly. “Now, give me your wrists.”

7

“One on top of the other.”

Sophie nodded and held out her wrists as instructed. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice soft yet eager.

Jack’s mouth twitched into another barely there smile, her simple submission stirring something inside him he’d long since thought dead. “Good girl,” he said again, enjoying the way her chin dropped, her cheeks flushed, and her gaze sought out his.

Seeking his approval.

The urge to grab her, to throw her down on the bed and take her, was near overwhelming, but he wanted to savour the moment. Wanted to enjoy every second he spent with Sophie in case the inevitable happened and he never saw her again.

In the past, that wouldn’t have bothered him, his infrequent trysts serving a purely biological need. He didn’t care if he never saw those women again, and neither did they. But this tryst was different. Thiswomanwas different, and not just because he had a crush on her.

Sophie Bennett was every wet dream Jack had ever had rolled into one delectable woman and brought to life—his very own Galatea—and the fact that she was standing in front of him, staring at him with those deep, dark eyes, smiling at him, for him… the pleasure he felt deep in his gut was indescribable.

Wrapping the belt around her wrists, he made sure not to bind the leather too tightly. He hadn’t tied anyone up in a long time—years—and wanted to ensure he didn’t hurt her. At least not yet. And not like this.

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