Page 79 of Untether

How two simple words can scatter goosebumps over my body, I’m not sure. It’s probably how he makes them positively drip with intention. Possibility. And, if I’m not mistaken, threat.

The way his sensual mouth moves when he says them may also have something to do with it.

As does the way he releases my hands and pats one toned, denim-clad thigh without breaking that dark gaze of his.

Whatever’s behind the magic, I don’t care. Because I’ve just cried and confessed my middle-aged curses to him, and he doesn’t look like a man repulsed.

Quite the opposite.

I rise from my chair, a little smile playing on my lips, and go to sit sideways on his lap, but he tuts.

‘Nope. Straddle me.’

It’s like that.

I see.

I gather the billowy folds of my dress up a little so I canwiden my legs and lower myself onto his lap, feet planted wide. The fabric of my dress lands softly around us, the cascade of open buttons allowing a decent glimpse of my thighs.

‘Closer,’ he says, tugging me toward him with one hand on my ass and the other clamped to my neck. I get a second to enjoy the view of his gorgeous face so close to mine before that hand on my neck tugs me the rest of the way down and I’m falling into a kiss that’s urgent and hungry, our mouths sliding together, his tongue stealing into my mouth.

I grab at the longer hair curling onto his neck with one hand as I run the fingernails of the other down the perfect scratchiness of his beard. All it takes is the rasp of it against my chin for the memory of it against my most sensitive flesh to echo deep in my core.

When I break away, he’s grinning at me. It’s not a boyish grin but something heavier and more carnal.

‘Hey, beautiful,’ he mutters lazily, his dark eyes flashing south of my face and back up. ‘Lose the dress, why don’t you?’

Let it be said that I have not performed a striptease for a man for many moons. If I was standing across the room from Cal I’d undoubtedly feel self-conscious, but I’m not. I’m sitting inches from him, and he’s gazing at me like I’m a gift he’d like very much to unwrap, so it doesn’t take much bravado to release his neck and untie the fabric belt of my dress before turning my attention to my buttons.

Geez, this guy is gratifying. A sexy striptease this is not, but he’s lapping it up. He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches the suggestion of my brand-new, eye-wateringly expensive lingerie come into view.

As soon as I have the last button undone, he’s pushingthe dress off my shoulders, his movements hurried. And when it slithers to the ground in a soft pool of parachute silk behind me, his dark eyes turn positively feral.

I try to enjoy having his gaze on me and not to overly fixate on tilting my pelvis to make my stomach flatter. Yeah, I’m in decent shape, but it’s not like I’m twenty-five anymore, and this isn’t the most flattering position. Not that Cal seems to care, because he slides one bra strap down and presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to my shoulder before straightening up.

‘Time to take this very sexy bra off,’ he tells me, and the low, commanding tone of his voice has something shifting inside me. He’s gonna tell me what to do,orderme what to do, more like, and all I have to do is comply.

Besides, his dominating tone has my nipples instantly tightening behind their skimpy lace. I love hanging with carefree, hilarious Cal, but dear God, I adore being fucked by intense, unleashed Cal. It won’t take much more of that tone of his for me to be squirming in his lap like a kitten who adores being petted and praised.

I shoot him a slow smile and reach behind me to unclasp my bra before shimmying my shoulders so it slides off my arms and falls between us. I don’t miss the hitch in his breath as he takes in the sight of my bare breasts.

‘That’s it,’ he says, running his hands up my thighs before squeezing my waist. ‘Jesus Christ, nothing, and I mean nothing, gets me off like having you do what I say.’ He slides his hands further up my sides and strokes the undersides of my breasts with his thumbs. My nipples practically leap to attention at the eroticism of that simple touch.

His eyes are fixed on my bare breasts, even if his hands are not. But then they flash up to me. ‘You want my hands on you, baby?’

I shiver. ‘Yes, please.’

‘What a good girl. So polite.’ He slaps my ass. ‘But I won’t touch you till you’re completely naked for me. So you know what to do.’

He licks his lips and gazes at me expectantly, and there’s a moment where I’m suspended in time as the two sides of my personality war with each other. The Aida who’s used to running the show in her interactions with the most powerful men in the world baulks at the deliberate condescension in his tone, while the Aida who needs the sweet bliss of submission to course like honey through her veins thrills at it.

The second Aida wins by a country mile.

I rise from his lap and kick my dress to one side before hooking my thumbs into the sides of my thong and tugging it down my legs. He watches me avidly, the hunger in his dark eyes belying the casual nature of the tone he’s adopted so far.

‘Like what you see?’ I ask, attempting to shrug off my discomfort at standing here butt naked in front of this god.

‘You know I do.’ I swear, his voice is lower and rougher. ‘Get back down here.’ He slaps his thigh, and I know he wants me straddling him again. I put my hands on his shoulders and toss my hair off my face with a jerk of my head as I lower myself back down to him. He parts his thighs as I do, forcing me into an even wider stance.

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