Page 8

With both hands, he pushed my pants past my hips, taking care not to drag my panties along with them.

He didn’t rush, but took his time as his fingers only just touched the bare skin of my hips and the tops of my thighs.

My breath escaped my lips in short, shuddery pants, revealing just how out of my element I was.

He knelt in front of me, slipping off my shoes, one by one. Then he freed my legs from the confines of my slacks, one at a time, slowly sliding his hands from thigh to ankle then lifting my foot to move the fabric away. My breath caught in my throat once my legs were fully bared to him.

He rose back to his full height, towering over me once more, and just looked at me.

I was acutely aware that I stood before him in only my lovely lace panties.

Acting against his instruction, I lowered my arms and reached for the button of his pants with a boldness I didn’t know I was capable of.

He was wearing a belt and for some reason, the buckle wouldn’t come undone.

I struggled with it and for a few seconds, he allowed it.

Then he grasped both my wrists and pinned them above my head once more.

“No,” he barked just the one word.

“But I…” I began, but he shook his head, and the words died somewhere in the back of my throat, forever left unsaid.

“Not yet, little girl. In just a few moments, you’re going to be fully bare for me while I remain fully clothed. How does that make you feel?” he asked.

I shivered and struggled to find the right words.

“Embarrassed?” he asked.

I closed my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Vulnerable?”

“Yes.”

He lowered his face, putting his lips against my throat, just under my ear.

“That’s not all it makes you feel though, is it?” he whispered, his breath tickling the sensitive skin.

I wondered what his kiss would feel like there.

“Right now, you’re soaking wet with anticipation. I can smell your arousal. You know you’re going to be completely bare for me. That you can’t stop it. That you don’t want to.”

A soft mewl of disbelief slipped out of my mouth and he smirked knowingly. My pussy clenched as I flexed my thighs and took stock of the state of my skimpy panties.

He was right.

They were absolutely drenched.

I blushed hard, my face growing so hot that it felt like it was aflame.

Offended by the unfairness of my situation, I stared back at him. Why was I the only one being stripped bare? Why couldn’t I take his clothes off too?

“Keep your hands where I put them,” he instructed gently. His expression remained soft, and I wanted nothing more than to defy him. I waited a few seconds, but I didn’t remain still for long.

I reached for his belt again. This time, I worked a bit faster, yanking on the end of it and pulling it through the buckle. His eyes narrowed, keeping level with mine. He didn’t stop me until I successfully unbuckled his belt.

Swiftly then, he gathered my wrists in one hand, pressing them back over my head before I could stop him.

“I told you to keep your hands at your sides, naughty girl, but you disobeyed me, didn’t you?” he asked. My stomach flipped inside me with nervous butterflies.

“Yes…” I breathed anxiously. What was he going to do? What did I want him to do?

With his other hand, he pulled his belt free from the loops of his pants. Enthralled by the sound of leather slipping against the cloth, I dropped my gaze and watched.

“Are you going to be a good girl for me, or do I need to use my belt to teach you how to obey me?”

My mouth went dry. My jaw opened and closed wordlessly, and I gasped softly at the insinuation of his words.

My backside tightened, almost as if I could feel the fiery lash of his belt against my naked flesh, and I bit my lip.

What he was suggesting, what those photographs revealed, was unheard of in New Englandia, and I knew it would be anathema to every good citizen.

It should be to me as well, but when he released my wrists, I found myself too captivated by the thought of his belt to move them from where he put them this time.

My thighs trembled slightly with need.

He let go of my wrists again, and I stayed where he left me.

I watched as he purposefully folded the belt in two, holding the buckled end in his left palm.

I stared down at it, watching it swing back and forth.

I didn’t see his other hand, but I felt it drifting down my side until it reached the hem of my panties.

I sucked in a breath but made no move to stop him as he slipped under the fragile fabric to explore my pussy.

It would be the very first time anyone but me had touched my most private place and I only did it to get clean.

His rough fingertips slid over the top of my mound, descending further until I felt his finger right over my clitoris.

A visceral surge of pleasure raced through me, and I let out a guttural sound, suddenly grateful for the wall behind me and his body in front of me.

Without either one, I probably would have fallen to the floor.

He circled my needy bud with the pad of one finger. My hips bucked against his hand and the heated flush over my cheeks intensified even more.

“Ryker!” I gasped out his name in some crazed hope he would give me what I wanted more than anything. His answer came when his mouth met mine again, swallowing my gasps and moans.

I didn’t think this could be any more shameful, but I felt completely helpless, lost to my feverish desire for him to touch me more, kiss me more, give me more of him.

Then it got so much worse.

He spoke against my lips: “Do I need to use my belt on your bare bottom, naughty girl?”

Raw desire coursed through me, hot, heavy and overwhelming.

My top teeth captured my bottom lip and he licked both, as desperate little sounds escaped me, trying to keep quiet and failing miserably.

I lifted my glazed eyes to meet his, the exquisite agony he was so skillfully building making me squint.

Those forbidden images raced through my head again.

Would he do it? How would he do it? Would he put me over his knee like the husband had done to his bride?

Would he pin me over the bed so he could belt me?

Would it hurt?

Would I like it?

Did I want it?

My clit pulsed as he swirled the tip of his middle finger around it.

The pressure was light, but it drove me wild.

Then he lifted that one finger and slid it slowly down between my slickened folds, parting them and letting the adjacent fingers lightly brush over my entrance, humiliating me further as his fingers were immediately drenched with the evidence of what he was doing to me.

Holding my gaze, he smirked with his victory over me.

“So wet for me,” he rumbled.

I whined a helpless reply. I wanted to look away but couldn’t.

I should have wanted to reclaim my dignity, but didn’t care.

He slid his fingers back and forth, spreading my fluids, soaking his fingers in it, stimulating my hypersensitive skin, then brought that one magical finger back to my pulsing clit.

He touched me oh-so-lightly with his now drenched fingertip, and somehow the sensation was even more intense than before.

Unfamiliar muscles deep inside me spasmed, and I lost my battle to keep myself from making any noise.

I cried out. He pressed harder.

My entire body shuddered with frantic need. My fingertips buzzed with electricity and my toes curled against the floor. I clenched my fingers, digging them into my palms as I arched my back toward Ryker.

I didn’t know what was happening. Confusion swirled through me. Pure desire dazzled me senseless as my hips rocked back and forth, grinding myself against his fingers.

I glanced down, my eyes locking onto the doubled-over belt still in his hand. He was still holding it like he wanted to use it.

From out of nowhere, all the muscles in body seemed to contract at once. The rocking of my hips turned into shameless bucking and the tightly wound arousal in my belly broke free. I keened, trying to keep the sound quiet, but that didn’t last long.

My vision prickled with blinding light as sizzling euphoria burned through my limbs.

I lost the battle to keep my arms up where he’d put them, my fingers grasping onto the wrist of the torturous hand, not to stop him, but simply trying to hold on for what was the most intense pleasure I’d ever felt in my life.

At once, I knew what this was: It was an orgasm, my very first one.

In the illicit romance novels I’d been able to read, they’d all made reference to this moment, some of them only vaguely hinting at this culminating event and others providing graphic detail.

Nothing could have ever prepared me for the reality of it.

My blood felt like liquid fire. The wild beating of my heart should have concerned me, but I didn’t care as my entire world spun higher and higher. I felt so desperately out of control, and still my orgasm kept raging.

He pressed a bit more firmly on my clit, tapping the belt lightly against my thigh at the same time, as I writhed helplessly before him. Oh God! The belt!

My orgasm exploded outward and my soft cries became a desperate scream.

By the time my release finally started to wane, I was gasping for breath.

I shifted from one foot to the other, trembling and shaky.

His hand slipped obscenely out of my panties, and I could feel how absolutely soaked they were now.

“I asked you a question, Naomi. Twice. Instead of answering me, like a good girl, you came on my hand. You had an orgasm from just this one finger touching you,” he lifted his hand, glistening from my juices, up to my face, showing me that same finger.

We could both smell the scent of my arousal and I was sure my embarrassment was complete.

I would soon learn that I was wrong, though.

My stomach flipped straight up into my throat.

“I… I…”