by Linnea May
"I can get it myself," he said, rising from the sofa and sauntering over to the kitchen. I'm curled up on the love seat across from him, too shy to sit down next to him.
He intimidates me, but he excites me. I just wish I was better at conveying my feelings to him. Instead, here I am sitting with my legs curled up beneath me, my mug held up to my face most of the time, even though I’m not actually drinking. Nothing about my demeanor suggests I want him any closer to me than he is right now.
"You have a lot of books," he observes as he walks back into the living room, browsing one of the many bookshelves that cover the walls.
"Some of them belonged to my grandma," I comment. He’s standing next to the shelf that still holds some of her favorites.
My heart skips a beat when he slowly moves to the next section of shelving. The shelf he’s now scanning by running his index finger down the bindings is one of the shelves that contain my guilty pleasures, romance novels.
He chuckles and I try to hide my embarrassment behind the mug of hot wine. I take a big sip as he tilts his head to the side to study the titles in front of him.
"Did these belong to your grandma?" he asks, without turning around.
I swallow. "No. They're mine."
"Thought so."
He reaches up and pulls one of them off the shelf. I can't tell which one it is from where I'm sitting, but I can tell it has a black spine.
"Interesting," he says, as he studies the blurb on the back, and my face catches fire as he raises his eyebrows and a spark of amusement twinkles in his eyes.
"You're a naughty girl," he says, slipping the book back into its spot on the shelf.
"A dominant alpha captures a poor young woman and turns her into his sex slave," he narrates, turning back to me with a mischievous smile on his face. "Is that what you like to fantasize about?"
I lift the mug up to my face again, wishing I could just disappear into thin air. This is so fucking embarrassing.
"It's not polite to go through other people's stuff," I say. "It's... private."
His eyes narrow, conflicting with the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
"I apologize," he says, sitting back down on the couch across from me. "But I'm still curious. Why does a girl like you read books like this?"
"A girl like me?"
He doesn't respond, instead locking me down with his intense gaze.
"It's none of your business.”
"What types of things happen in these books?" he probes.
I huff. "What do you think happens? It's about people falling in love."
"Cute," he comments.
"And exploring."
I bite my tongue. Why did I have to say that?
"Exploring what?"
I roll my eyes. "You know..."
"What kinds of explorations?” he continues. "Tell me about them.”
I let out a helpless half-laugh and jump up anxiously, using my empty mug as an excuse to leave his line of sight for a few moments.
I can feel his eyes on me as I walk over to the stove to pour another mug of mulled wine, which I need now more than ever. I take another sip, the alcohol fueling my spirit and warming my insides as I return to the living area.
"I don' want to talk about this,” I admit uneasily, quickly glancing at him from the corner of my eye before returning to my spot on the love seat, as far away from him as possible. "It's personal."
He shrugs. "Fine."
I didn't expect him to give up that easily, and the surprise is apparent on my face. He coyly smiles at me, and then I realize he won't be letting me off the hook after all.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks next, completely catching me off guard.
I scrunch my eyebrows as I shake my head no. "Of course not."
"Of course not?" he asks. "Why should that be obvious to me?"
"Do you think I would have invited you to stay here if I had a boyfriend?"
I know how silly my words sound as soon as I say them. But I can't take them back, and I have to face his amused reaction.
"Why? We're not going to be doing anything traitorous, are we?"
I didn't think my face could grow any hotter, but I was wrong.
"No, of course not," I utter, my voice more shrill than I wanted it to be. My eyes helplessly wander around the room, searching for something to hold on to, anything to distract me from this uncomfortable situation I brought upon myself.
"When was the last time you had a boyfriend?" he asks, pulling me right back into the topic.
I let out a dry laugh, lowering my eyes as if searching for an answer at the bottom of my mug.
"That long, huh?”
I don't know whether he sounds amused or concerned.
"It's been a while," I say eventually. "Or... never really."
I finally convince myself to meet his unyielding gaze. The expression on his face is hard to read. He's smiling, but it's so faint I don't know what to make of it.
"Never?" he asks. "That's hard to believe."
"Well, I did have some... dates," I stutter. "But you asked about a boyfriend."
"Not even back in Germany?"
I laugh out loud. "I was fifteen when I came over here!"
The smile on his face widens. "God, you're cute."
I'm not sure whether he's belittling or complimenting me, but I definitely feel flattered, even if it's just as a result of the way he looks at me.
"This is a small town," I say. "It's not that easy to meet someone."
"So, you just invite out-of-town strangers to your place when the opportunity presents itself?"
I frown. "I hope you're joking."
He winks at me, but doesn't say anything.
"Don't test my hospitality," I warn him. "I could throw you out whenever I want to."
"I'm well aware of that."
My breath hikes when he rises from the sofa, places his mug on the coffee table and then saunters over to the fire place.
"The fire could use another log," he assesses, burying his hands inside his pants' pockets as he nods at the ebbing embers.
He's right, the fire is about to die out. When I realize he is only making an observation and has no intention of doing anything about it, I rise from my seat, as well. I grab a log from the pile next to the fireplace and carefully place it on top of the dying flames.
This may just have been a ploy to get me closer, an excuse to have me get up from that love seat and join him in front of the fire, but I appreciate it nonetheless. I get back up on my feet from my crouched position, finding that I’m standing close to him as we watch the growing flames. His proximity feels comforting and titillating at the same time. I long for him to touch me, and am itching to touch him, but I would never dare taking the first step.
"Say, Lena."
His voice is tender and so low that the words are barely audible.
"Are you lonely?"
His question hits me off-guard. My breath hitches and my arms draw back in a protective flinch. Why is he asking me that? His words hit me with a force that unravels me more than his touch does when he places his hand on my shoulder. I instinctively lean into him, letting out a soft sigh when his movements beckon me to turn around to face him.
It has been so long. So long since I've been touched by a man, another person even.
So long since I have yearned.
So long since I have been kissed.
Our eyes meet when he places his finger under my chin, tilting my head back. He's seeking approval without saying a word. I find myself nodding when he pulls me in closer, and I sigh again when our lips meet for the first time.
Chapter 14
Jason
She leans into the kiss all too eagerly for me to doubt that she wasn't waiting for this. Her lips are hot and taste like mulled wine, sweet and endearing, with a hint of cinnamon. Soft moans escape her while my tongue explores her mouth, yearning to taste more of her.
She's shy, but not too shy to
lay her hands on me once I took that crucial first step. Her dainty fingers travel across my hips, nervously playing with my belt, as if she didn't know what to do with it. I reach for her wrists, gently pushing her hands down without my lips ever leaving hers.
No touching until I allow it. I'm in charge. She needs to understand this.
Her icy blue eyes have warmed to the color of the ocean, and they seek mine, the longing apparent in her gaze when I stop our kiss. Her cheeks are still flushed from before, glowing from the heat of excitement and spiced wine.
"You keep your hands to yourself," I tell her. "Until I tell you otherwise. Understood?"
Her eyes flare and her lower lip is trembling when she phrases her response.
"Yes," she breathes. Then she bites her lip. Her eyes are wide and curious, confessing all the questions she doesn't dare ask.
I saw the books she has lined up on her shelves. I don't have to read them to know what they are about. Those aren't sweet fairy tales about a prince saving his princess, about two lovers holding hands while walking through a meadow.
No. That's not what sweet little Lena is into.
"You like it rough, don't you?" I ask her.
She gasps, and a silent nod is all she manages as a reply. It's all I need.
I tighten my grip around her wrists, reveling in the way she trembles when I bring her hands together behind her back.
"Do you know what a safe word is?"
She nods.
"Tell me, what's yours?"
Another bite of her lower lip, but no response, until I squeeze her wrists and pull back, forcing her to bend backwards.
"Ginger!" she brings forth.
"Ginger?" I repeat. "You’ve used that word before?”
She shakes her head. "No, but it's what I'd like to use."
"Have you done this before?"
She casts me a puzzled look. "This?"
I sigh. "Have you ever experienced the things you like to read about?"
Her shoulders drop and a slack expression spreads across her face when she shakes her head.
"No."
"But you want to?"
"Very much."
I loosen the tension on her arms and lean in closer, my lips tight to her ear when I whisper, "Well, today is your lucky day."
She inhales audibly and I can feel her tensing up. Her excitement spurs me on, but I'll have to tame myself. She's a rookie, a sweet little virgin when it comes to this kind of play.
"So, this is what's going to happen," I explain, making sure that I have her full attention. She looks up at me through those big, blue eyes, her cheeks glowing and her lips trembling. Anticipation is fueling her, toying with her core, and I haven't even started yet.
"You'll do as I tell you, you'll please me, and receive pleasure in return," I say. "And if you fail to please me-"
"There'll be punishment," she completes my sentence.
"That's correct," I confirm.
A smile is playing around the corners of her mouth. Cheeky little minx.
"But don't get cocky with me," I warn her. "You'll regret it."
"We'll see."
The smile on her face widens and her stance strengthens. She's challenging me, not only with the way she looks at me now, but also with the way she's holding herself while still confined by my grip.
So cute.
I secure both of her wrists with one hand behind her back, using the other to grab a fistful of her hair, pulling on it and forcing her head back into her neck before claiming another kiss from her. She squirms and moans, but gives into me after just a few moments. The way her body coils under my touch clearly confirms her lust, even when I intensify my force on her.
Okay. If she wants to play, that's what we'll do.
She gasps in surprise when I let go of her hands and hair, moving my hands beneath her big hoodie and hooking my fingers under the hem of her yoga pants to pull them down in one quick motion. Of course, instinct tells her to cover herself when she's exposed to me, but I slap her hands away.
"Hands up!" I command. "Over your head."
She hesitates, but just for a second, before she obliges and lifts her arms above her head, while I pull down her yoga pants and her panties underneath.
A nudge to her ankle encourages her to step out of her pants when they've reached her feet, and this time, she obeys right away, lifting her feet one by one like a good girl, so I can get rid of her pants and her socks.
She stands tall and trembling before me, her lower body completely naked. My hand traces along her limber legs, moving upward at the inside of her thighs to her shaved pussy. She has prepared for this. Naughty little girl.
A gasp escapes her lips when I plant a kiss on her mound. It's nothing more than a quick peck, and when I get back up on my feet, I revel in the look on her face. That stunned expression, a combination of embarrassment and excitement, forming an exotic mixture known to very few.
I trace the outline of her slender hips and move my hands to her sides, still moving upwards and taking her sweater with me. She's not wearing anything underneath it, not even a bra.
"Good girl," I praise her, as I pull the sweater over her head in one swift motion.
Her long hair flows from her head in ruffled waves, flowing down over her shoulders, framing her arms that are still up in the air. I throw the sweater aside and take a step back, my eyes never leaving the blue depth of hers. She's breathing heavily, her entire body pulsating under tremors of excitement.
She closes her eyes in an attempt to shield my view.
"Look at me," I snap.
Her eyes open as soon as the command is spoken. I can tell that it takes all her effort to withstand my gaze, but she's still doing a good job. That doesn't change when my eyes begin to wander, studying her marvelous body. She's a bit on the slim side, and her breasts are cute and perky, nothing more than half a handful, and her nipples are standing erect. Her skin is pristine and immaculate, a perfect canvas for me.
"Do you bruise easily?" I ask, seeking eye contact with her.
Her eyes widen in fear. "I don't know."
"You don't know, hmmm," I whisper in a daunting voice. "Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough."
Her breathing hikes when I close in on her, closing my arms around her and pulling her close, pressing her naked body against mine, so she can feel what she's doing to me. I'm hard as a rock, and it takes all my willpower not to free myself and fuck her brains out right this second.
I cup her ass with both hands, lifting her up, and she instinctively wraps her legs around my hips.
This time she's the one who goes in for another kiss. She has wrapped her arms around my neck, grinding her core against my pelvis like a bitch in heat. Patience appears to be a virtue unknown to her.
I'll have to teach her.
Without breaking our kiss, I turn around to the sofa behind her, kneading her ass cheeks and evoking hungry moans from her. She mewls when I lean forward to throw her down onto the cushions, thus breaking our kiss. She makes a move to jump up and back into my arms, but I keep her from doing so by pushing her onto her back, closing my hand around her neck. An expression of horror flashes across her face, making me doubt my move for a second, but then she closes her eyes and arches her back, visibly enjoying the threat of being choked.
"Spread your legs for me," I order, but she does the exact opposite, closing her legs and pulling her knees up to her chest to keep me at a distance.
"Now!"
I tighten my grasp around her neck, and she complies immediately, opening her legs and exposing her glistening core to me.
Again, she closes her eyes in shame, and again I answer it with a sharp command.
"Eyes on me!" I remind her.
She whimpers, but complies with my demand. I hover over her, my hand still closing around her throat, choking her just enough to still allow her to breathe, while my other hand is placed on her knee. I only need to apply a gentle push to her leg and she sprea
ds them even further, her eyes remaining locked on mine. Her lower lip begins trembling when I travel along the inside of her thigh, moving closer to her center, inch by inch, only the tip of my finger caressing her soft skin. Her breathing accelerates when I pause just before reaching her hot core.
I smile, but she doesn't reciprocate.
"Are you wet for me?" I ask.
A whimper is all she achieves as a response.
"Are you?"
My grip around her throat tightens and she groans.
"Guess I'll have to see for myself."
The moan that leaves her lips when I slide a finger between her wet folds is the sweetest sound I've ever heard. She's dripping wet, and my motions are accompanied by a slick sound when I start playing with her sensitive nub.
"What a naughty little girl," I comment, drawing circles around her clit.
It drives her insane. She starts coiling beneath me, longing sighs escaping her parted lips as I start massaging her nub. She squeals when I let a finger slide between her folds, and then another. Her tight walls close around my fingers as if she's trying to suck me in, yearning for so much more than I'm willing to give her right now.
Gradually, I intensify the pressure on her throat, making it harder for her to breathe. My eyes never leaves hers, observing every little response to my actions, waiting for her to stop me. She's so responsive, so willing, it's almost too easy to take what I need. But instead of begging me to slow down, she only urges me to go on by leaning into me. She tenses up, spreading her legs even wider while arching her back.
She likes this. She likes being choked. I may be the first to do this to her, and she may not have known this about herself either, but she's definitely relishing the feeling of being close to suffocation.
Let's see if she still likes it when I go all the way.
She lets out a rattling gasp when I tighten my grip around her neck enough to cut off her air while simultaneously adding another finger to stretch her tunnel. She's squirming, her muscles tensing around my fingers in an all too familiar way.
"Don't come," I warn her. "You're not allowed to come!"
Her eyes flicker with fear and she shakes her head, attempting to phrase words that won't leave her lips.
