"Rule number two: your safe word is 'red.' Obviously, I’d prefer you not to need it. It's a matter of pride on my part not to push you harder than you can physically or emotionally endure. But we don't know each other, and I understand you're new to this, so it’s essential you use it, if you need to.”
She swallows hard but nods again.
"And rule number three," I continue, coming to a stop directly in front of her. "You're mine now. Every inch of you belongs to me, to use as I see fit. Do you understand?”
I watch her carefully, drinking in every micro-expression that flits across her face. Fear, excitement, resignation - they all dance in her eyes as she processes my words.
"Yes, Sir," she breathes, her voice almost inaudible.
"Excellent." I reach out to stroke her cheek and although she flinches, she doesn't pull away. Good girl. "Now, let's begin."
I take her glass and set it aside, then grasp her chin firmly, tilting her face up so she can't escape my gaze. Her breath catches as I lean in close, my lips nearly brushing hers.
"Strip," I command, my voice deceptively soft. "Slowly."
For a moment I think she might baulk; I can see her reluctance. But then she huffs out a quiet breath, forming her resolve even though her hands tremble as she reaches for the buttons of her blouse.
"As you wish, Sir."
Oh yes, I do wish very much.
I step back, giving her space to undress while I stare hungrily. Each inch of pale skin revealed feeds my hunger.
When she's finally naked before me, I appraise every curve and plane of her body, slow and deliberate, letting my eyes wander over every exposed inch. I am the wolf, and she’s my prey, frozen but hyper aware of every movement I make.
The overhead light renders her skin luminous, almost ethereal, but there’s nothing angelic about the way I want to press her to the glass wall overlooking the city and make her beg for mercy.
"Gorgeous."
Even more beautiful than I imagined. Every part draws my eye, inviting my misuse. My eyes dip to her full breasts, the pale pink tips already tightening either from the chill or suspense. Idon’t really care which. Then, dragging my eyes away from the lush mounds, I move my gaze downward, mapping the slope of her waist and the swell of her hips.
She stands tall, but her hands curl anxiously at her sides. I can see her struggling not to shield her body; to keep from crossing her arms over her breasts or folding in on herself. If she loses that battle, she’ll feel the sting of my displeasure.
I almost hope she does.
Her breath comes quick and shallow, and a faint flush is rising on her collarbone, spreading up the delicate line of her neck. I smirk, pleased my mere presence is enough to turn her skin to fire.
I pause behind her, so close I can smell the sweet, nervous sweat pricking her skin. I could reach out and fondle her; I suspect just a brush of my fingers would send her reeling, but I want to see how long she lasts before she cracks. I want to taste the anticipation in the air, to watch it shatter her.
I study the arch of her back, the dimples above her ass and the tension in her slender thighs.
My little Juno will mark beautifully, and I can’t wait to see her wearing my welts and lashes. She’s trembling, ever so slightly, and the sight makes my blood sing.
"Perfection."
I move to her side, drinking in the way the shadows pool over her form, highlighting every vulnerability. The softness of her belly, the delicate indent of her navel, the faint scar along her hip. She is not some faultless statue or immaculate dream. She’s real, flawed, and breathtakingly alive.
And she is mine.
When I complete my circuit, standing before her once more, her eyes flick up to meet mine. For a second, she looks defiant, but I know it’s a front. An anxious, desperate attempt at dignity which makes my cock ache with hunger. I tilt my head, invitingher to hold my stare, and as soon as she does, the bravado collapses. She quivers, a shudder running up her spine, and I see goosebumps ripple across her skin like tiny admissions of helplessness.
Absolutely delicious.
"Beautiful," I murmur, trailing my fingers down her back. "But I think you can be even more beautiful. On your knees."
She hesitates for just a moment before sinking down, her eyes fixed on the floor. There’s no grace to the movement, but I like that. Her awkwardness just makes this more real.
Drinking in every nuance of her submission, I tangle my fingers in her hair, gripping tightly as I force her to look up at me.
