by Skylar Kade
Stay calm, Bella! Whether this is the initiation or something far worse, you have to deal with it.
She held her breath, waiting for his next move, and her entire body jerked when his warm hand finally made contact with her skin. His fingertips gently stroked her cheek and then ran slowly down the side of her neck. They teasingly followed the line where the edge of her blouse met her skin, sliding from her shoulder, down past her collarbone, hesitating at her top button, and then running up the other side of her chest.
Then slowly coming back down again to rest at her top button.
Pausing there.
Opening it.
No, no! She shook her head violently, and made a strangled sound of protest through her gag.
He ignored her and proceeded to the next button, and the next, until he had her blouse completely open.
She frantically tried to twist out of his reach, but it was difficult when her feet barely touched the floor.
He grabbed her by the hips and held her tightly.
“Why are you struggling?” he asked, actually sounding surprised. “This is part of tonight’s arrangement. Just relax.”
Relax? How the hell could she relax when he was undressing her?
His hand found its way back to her chest. She trembled violently as Mr. S trailed a finger slowly down between the valley of her breasts, then moved lower until he hooked a finger into the front closure of her bra, easily snapping it open.
She moaned in distress as he spread the thin material and exposed her breasts to his view.
He inhaled sharply. “I hadn’t expected you to be so beautiful.”
This time there was definitely surprise in his voice.
Even in her panic, Isabella’s brain registered the strangeness of his remark. Why would he have been expecting anything? If this were simply part of some outrageous initiation, he wouldn’t care what she looked like, right? Nor would he care if his intent was only to have his wicked way with her. Was there a third possibility here?
“Don’t fight it,” he insisted. “Enjoy it. This is what you paid for. And I always satisfy my clients.”
This is what you paid for?
Isabella froze. This wasn’t the Sigma Iomega Nu initiation and it wasn’t rape either. It was something else entirely, a mix-up of the most unbelievable kind.
Was Mr. S a…gigolo? A male escort? Was this place some sort of pleasure palace, and had some mysterious woman paid for a…bondage fantasy? The idea was shocking, but obviously the two had never met, or else Mr. S would know that Isabella was not his client.
She frantically tried to think of a way to communicate to him that he’d made a horrible mistake.
Wait. A. Minute.
What would it be like to just let herself go and enjoy this? To pretend to be Mr. S’s client? He was a gorgeous guy, and not twenty minutes ago in his car she’d been fantasizing about him, about having a little dangerous in her life, and nothing could be more dangerous than sex with a total stranger. An incredibly sexy stranger who obviously knew how to pleasure a woman. Her orgasm would be cataclysmic—for goodness sake, if he was a gigolo, he was an expert in the art of pleasing a woman!
What if this case of mistaken identity allowed her to indulge in the hottest sex of her life? Was she brazen enough to go for it?
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