“Say it.”
“I understand the difference.” The words come out quieter than I intend.
“Sir.”
“I understand the difference,sir.”
He tips my chin, that damn signature gesture. “Then we clarify. “Stand up and walk to the bed.”
I obey. Slowly, he approaches. I feel the heat of his nearness, his eyes moving over my body.
The Blue Salon seems to hum with anticipation, like a storm about to break.
He slowly unbuttons my blouse, sliding it off my shoulders before unsnapping my bra and tossing both garments to the floor.
“Kneel.”
My knees press into the rug. I lace my hands behind my back and hold his gaze. Heat curls through me as he reaches around and pulls my hands apart.
He ties my hands in front. “Up,” he says.
I rise awkwardly but obedient.
He steers me the last step to the bed, pressure steady on my spine, then lowers his voice as he says, “Now, Cassandra, we’ll see how well you follow orders. Stand up straight.”
I pull my shoulders back and lift my chest. His eyes trace my collarbone, hungry.
“Good,” he says again.
I can’t believe the effect that single word has on me. I’m soaked between my thighs.
He circles behind me, fingers grazing the zipper at my waist. The slow, deliberate unzip slices through the quiet, cool air kissing my spine as my skirt slides off my hips.
My chest rises, skin prickling under his gaze, every untouched inch alive with anticipation. His restraint is as potent as any touch; a promise held in check.
His breath warms my neck before his lips do, open-mouthed, teasing my pulse. A careful bite of my lower lip follows, just sharp enough to make me gasp.
My eyes want to close, but I hold his stare. My body aches to lean in, but I stay still, caught in his command.
“Take off your panties.”
My face goes red. Am I really about to do this?
I take a deep breath, then, with my hands still bound, hook my thumb under the waistband of my panties. It’s a bit awkward, but I manage to shimmy them down to my ankles and step out.
“On the bed,” he says, voice low and firm. “All fours.”
He guides me from the bed’s edge to its center. I position myself, knees and elbows pressed into the mattress, hips raised.
He kneels behind me, palms settling on my hips. I’m totally bare before him. I’ve never been this exposed in front of a man before. The few times I’ve had sex, it wasn’t like this.
“Chin higher,” he says, thumb brushing my jaw. I obey. “Knees wider.” I shift, spreading myself open wider for him, my cheeks flushing, knowing his gaze is scanning every inch of me.
His hands trace my spine.
His mouth follows, lips grazing my flesh. His fingers brush my breasts, circling my nipples until they harden, my breath hitching. He pauses and steps back, leaving me trembling on all fours.
“What do you want?” His voice is low and demanding, drawing my focus.
