Page 12 of Property of the Woodsman

Dear God! I swallow hard and meet his gaze. “What?”

“You have a lot on your plate. Does it help you relax if someone tells you what to do?”

I’ve never in my life been asked what I want in bed. Reed is the only person I’ve ever been with, and sex with him was like everything else in our lives. What I wanted was always too much of something.

My nipples swell and scratch against the thin fabric of my dress. God, I should have some self-control. I’m a forty-year-old woman. I should have far more self-respect by now.

“Yes,” I pant, “I like being told what to do.”

“Good,” Atlas growls against the lobe of my ear, heat spreading down the curve of my neck.

Why the hell is this so hot?

“Now lean back on that ottoman in the sunroom and tug up your dress for me.”

I have no clue what I’m doing. Not emotionally, not physically, not in any way at all, but I don’t want to stop, so I obey and lay back on the ottoman I bought last week, tugging my dress up as I fall.

“Perfect,” his tone is low and ragged as he stares at me, “now tug those panties out of the way and touch yourself. I want to see how you do it.”

My chest tightens. “What? I—”

“No, little bunny. You agreed to do as I asked. Every time you disobey, you get a punishment. Are you ready for a punishment already?”

My clit twitches. “Little bunny, here?”

“You like it?”

I nod slowly, my clit pulsing so hard I might come before he ever touches me.

“Then do as you’re told.” He steps forward and tugs my panties down slowly, his big, rough hands scratching against my thighs as he moves. “I’m not giving them back until you touch that juicy, pink pussy for me.” He’s staring at my crease as he talks, his eyes heavy with a haze I’ve only dreamt about. It’s like he’s drunk on me, on the way I look, the way I smell, the way I obey his every command.

I reach between my legs and slide my finger against the slippery nub, working the spot over as I arch and bend, moan, and whine.

“Slide your fingers inside, little bunny. Show me what it looks like when you finger fuck that little pussy.” His jaw locks as he speaks, a hunger in his throat that wakes neurons in my body I didn’t know existed.

I scrub my finger down toward my slippery little entryway, sliding one inside before the other, thrusting in and out as my thighs tighten.

“That’s right,” he groans low. “You’re a filthy little slut for me, aren’t you? You’ll do whatever I ask.”

“Oh God,” I moan, my breath getting shallower as I close in on relief. “I’m so close.”

“Then stop,” he growls. “Don’t come. If you come, you’re in trouble.”

I hear the command, but I can’t stop. It’s too good, and the mere fact that he’s telling me to stop when I’m this close only makes me want it more.

Maybe that’s part of the plan.

I continue to thrust into my pussy, sloppy wet sounds echoing in the small room surrounded by windows as I close in on the greatest orgasm of my life.

“No, little rabbit,” he demands as he steps forward, his warm hand landing on my knee. “What did I say?”

“You told me to stop,” I whine and squirm, my butt lifting to meet each thrust of my fingers, until I’m convulsing against the soft taupe fabric of the ottoman.

God, I’ve never felt an orgasm this strong in my life! It’s like every nerve in my body is reacting, like for the first time ever, I’ve really finally let go!

When the orgasm begins to fade, my eyes flicker open and I see Atlas standing over me, his arms crossed, his cock hard, a grumpy look on his face. “That was very naughty. Now you have to be punished.”

I smile sweetly. “I can’t move.”