On principle, she retorted, “And if I don’t?”
“You’ll prove you are a spoilsport and forfeit the game.”
“Game? What game?—”
“The one you started at the academy. When it was my turn to be interrogated, I was up to the challenge. Now that it is yours, can you say the same?”
The dashed man knew her too well. She never could resist a challenge. And why would she now, when she was quite certain they would both end up winners? Her blood rushed with anticipation as he made short work of her corset. She did love their games. And if she played her cards right, she might turn the tables and learn more about him.
Twisting her head to look at him, she said with feigned defiance, “Same rules?”
The glint in his eyes told her he was enjoying this as much as she was.
“Three questions,” he acknowledged. “As we are not in public, you are not limited toyesornoresponses. If you lie, I will punish you. Tell the truth, and you will be rewarded. If you get up from this desk, the game ends.”
“How do you intend to punish me? I am short on whips and crops at present.”
“Cheeky minx. I’ll think of something that is fitting to your misbehavior.”
His sensual threat gave her a pleasant shiver. An instant later, her petticoats rustled to the floor, leaving her in her chemise, drawers, and stockings. She heard a ripping sound, and air caressed her bare back.
“That chemise was new,” she protested.
“Your next complaint is going to buy you punishment.”
As a woman used to being in charge, his authority stirred her. The strength of his will matched hers and made her feel safe to let go, if only for this game. The longing that welled inside her was as strong as desire, as physical as the needs thrumming in her body. She was used to counting on herself, and there was something infinitely relieving and arousing in trusting herself to another’s care.
Sebastian pulled off her drawers, crouching to remove her shoes.
“Christ.” A rasp entered his voice. “That’s quite a view, sweetheart.”
Her cheeks grew hot as she pictured what he was seeing from his vantage point, which was face-level with her bottom. Her legs were spread and clad in rose-colored stockings secured to a darker rose garter belt. They would frame her pussy, which she could feel dampening under his gaze.
He rose, running a proprietary hand up her leg.
“Pink stockings. Pink garter.”
As he touched each item, he named it like a cartographer charting new lands. She trembled when his callused pads explored her inner thigh. With a roughness that made her breath catch, he nudged her feet farther apart. The air exploded from her throat in the form of a mewl when he stroked her wet, aching crease.
“And my favorite pink of all.” He stopped just shy of the place where she craved his touch and made a chiding sound. “You’ve left a wet spot on the blotter, darling. And the game’s hardly begun.”
His observation, the casualness with which he shared it, inflamed her and made her wetter. Which was no doubt his intent. Her nipples and pearl throbbed against the stiff leather of her blotter, and all she needed was a bit of friction to ease the?—
Smack.
She jolted at the impact of his palm against the right cheek of her bottom, the sound of censure echoing through the study.
“We’ll have none of that, wicked minx,” Sebastian said sternly. “You are not to bring yourself off without permission. You are not in charge; I am. Do you understand?”
To her consternation, she felt herself blush. Like the schoolgirl she’d never had the chance to be.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
At his lordly tone, her belly melted, heat trickling into her pussy.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
