“Did you behave yourself?” I ask.
She hesitates for a fraction of a second, then nods. “Yes.”
“Good girl.” I look her over once more. The red dress, the way she’s holding herself—all of it speaks volumes. She wants this. Needs this. Badly.
I lead her to the chair and she sits—legs crossed at the ankles, her head tilted slightly. She’s tense; her hands grip the fabric of her dress, twisting it between her fingers.
I slip a hand under her dress to caress her thigh and feel the tremble in her muscles. Her breath hitches as my fingers trail up, lingering just before they slip back down to rest on her knee.
Bringing my mouth to her ear, I whisper, “Do you know what a safe word is?”
She nods. “Yes. Do I need one?”
“Always.” I cup her chin, tilting her head up to look at me. “The safe word ispause. If you want to stop at any point—even if you’re not sure if you want to stop—say the word and I’ll immediately release you. Okay? Pause.”
“Pause. Got it.” She swallows hard, her eyes darting toward the open door.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “The door stays open. House rules.”
“I know.” She pauses. “What are you going to do to me?”
“I’m going to find out what you like.” I caress her cheek and her eyes flutter closed as she leans into my touch. “And then I’m going to make you feel really, really good. So fucking good that you won’t even know what’s happening to you.”
Her breath catches in her throat and arousal stirs at the thought of having her at my mercy. I’m going to push her to her limits.
“Stand.” I raise my voice slightly, shifting my tone to one that’s teasing yet authoritative, and wait until she’s back on her feet. “We’re going to continue where we left off earlier. Well, not entirely. You can keep your lingerie on for now—I do appreciate a little lace.”
Ruby’s eyes darken with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She’s picking at her fingernails as if she’s not sure what to do with her hands. I guess that’s one problem easily solved.
“Lift your arms,” I command, and Ruby responds, her obedience igniting a spark of satisfaction within me. As her arms rise, I take hold of the hem of her dress and savor the power of the moment—how easy it is to strip away her layers, both literally and figuratively.
I tug at the fabric, lifting it higherwhile I inch closer, my lips nearly brushing against hers. I can see the desire flickering in her eyes, and although I long to kiss her, I hold back, keeping our connection just out of reach. When she tilts her head, trying to close the distance for a kiss, I inch back slightly, teasingly allowing the tension to swell.
Guiding the dress over her head, I’m revealing her stunning figure adorned in red lace. The intricate patterns of the fabric cling to her curves and accentuate her femininity. I appreciate the way the lace contrasts with her skin, the bold color making her appear even paler.
“You look exquisite,” I say, draping her dress over the back of the chair.
A shadow falls across the room, and Ruby’s eyes dart toward the doorway. Morgan stands there, her silhouette framed by the hallway light behind her. She’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smile playing on her lips as she takes in the scene before her. Ruby tenses immediately, and she nervously bites her bottom lip. I place a hand on her arm, feeling goose bumps rising on her skin.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, searching her face. “We can stop right now if you want.”
Ruby’s eyes flicker between Morgan and me. She takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders slightly, and gives me a small but definite shake of her head. She’s surrendering, even as apprehension still lingers in her gaze. The uncertainty is both beautiful and maddening.
Moving my lips to her ear again, I tease her earlobe with my hot breath and whisper, “What’s the safe word again?”
A soft moan escapes her. It’s a delicate sound, almost a plea. “Pause,” she says in a whimper.
“Good girl.” I hear a rustle, and two more women appear in the doorway.
One of them steps into the room while the other staysback. Women love to watch when I’m in here, and tonight is no different.
The mirrors multiply our audience—three watchers become thirty, their silhouettes rippling across the reflective surfaces until they form a silent gallery of eyes. Ruby’s breath quickens; I can feel her awareness of being witnessed from all angles, the sensory overload of exposure.
“Don’t mind them,” I tell her. “This is between us. Look at me instead.” I cup her face to focus solely on my eyes. “I’m not here to break you. I’m here to help you break free.”
TWENTY-NINE
RUBY
