Page 52 of His Christmas Wife

He climbed the stairs to his suite, then continued through to his dungeon.

From what he’d said in the sunroom, she expected him to take her to bed and make love to her. But that he wanted to play made her dizzy.

“Remove your shirt, sub,” he commanded, the husky, dominant tone from last night returning to his voice.

As she did so, the light glinted off her diamond. The sight startled her for a moment before she reminded herself its presence was all part of her new, temporary, make-believe life.

When she glanced up, he too was looking at the piece of jewelry.

Uncomfortably, she shifted, and he shook his head as he extended his hand to accept her sweater.

Today she’d worn a regular bra, although it was lacier than the ones she selected for work.

“And now the skirt.”

This was so much more personal than it had been at the club last night. There, most people were in some state of undress. Right now, it was just the two of them, in the silence, the sounds of their breaths filling the air. “Can we listen to some music?”

“So I can’t hear your whimpers?”

She tipped her head back.

“Next time, perhaps.”

Last night he’d been overly accommodating, but now he was a full-on Dominant.

“The skirt,” he prompted a second time. “Unless you’d like to add more spanks to the ones I’m planning?”

Her pulse seemed to turn sluggish, and her fingers shook as she lowered the zipper, then allowed the material to swish to the floor.

After stepping out of the garment, she bent to retrieve it.

All the while, he continued to regard her.

Her mouth dried as she turned her skirt over to him.

“Gorgeous. Now the rest of your clothing.”

More nervous than she could believe possible, she removed her panties, then her bra.

“I’d like you to turn your back to me, then spread your legs and bend over.”

“Uhm, what about my shoes?”

“Leave them on. I like the look of your calves in them.”

This was the first time a man had asked her to do that. “I see.” Slowly, self-conscious, she followed his command, grabbing hold of her ankles, her hair brushing the hardwood floor.

“Last night, after I arrived home, I masturbated. And again this morning.”

Really?

He considered her. “Did you?”

Was he going to force her to admit that?

But the fact he allowed tension to grow proved he would wait as long as it took. “Yes.”

“What things were you thinking about?”

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