through.
“Open your eyes.”
When I do I almost faint with pleasure.
“God help me.”
It’s all I can get through frozen lips as I lower my hands and pull out a sheer white lace thong and matching bra that’s not a bra at all but a set of cups that will end just below my nipples.
The underwear, if I can even call it that is indecent in its skimpiness and I freaking love it.
“I want you to go into the bathroom and take a long, hot bath. Relax and enjoy it. Let the water loosen you up. Then I want you to dry off and put these on and get on my bed.”
O.M.G.
Now I really am nervous because it’s one thing to fantasise about a guy and rub one out imagining his hands and mouth all over my body, but it’s quite another to have him ordering me around, his instructions clear. He wants me to ready my body and then surrender myself to him.
By lying on the bed in nothing more than transparent lace I’m giving him permission to do anything he wants to me, and he’s warned me that the list is long and so dirty I won’t ever be clean again.
Thoughts of getting dirty under this man make me go all liquid and hot till I realize what he said.
“I, uh,bathed before-”
“In that man’s home. In his shower or tub. I want it all gone when I finally touch you Rem. And I can also see how nervous you are so I’m hoping a bath might relax you.”
Phew. Okay. So he isn’t a germ freak or thinking I smell bad or God forbid, telling me that I need to clean certain areas.
Okay, okay, so I’m one of those chicks who’s paranoid about her junk. Give me a break. The one and only time Brian went down on me he didn’t even finish and acted like it was a distasteful experience. My confidence is still a little shot about it.
He turns around when I just nod and I gasp at the sight of his muscular back, the broad expanse covered in bright colours and dark slashes of black that make up an intricate tattoo that I can’t quite make out in the muted candlelight.
“Wow. Can I see your tattoo?”
He turns with a jerk and seems frozen in place before smiling slyly and wagging a finger my way.
“You have instructions. Obey.”
With a last slow perusal that makes my nipples bead tighter he turns on his heel and walks out of the room, leaving me alone and so achy I practically dive into the bathroom and the waiting jet pool bath tub, my muscles aching with renewed tension.
The bath I take is hot and filled with bath salts that smell like sweet lavender. By the time I’m done I feel looser and a lot better. Chase was right, I needed that and not only to soothe my frayed nerves but to give myself time to work out everything I’m feeling.
I want him with an intensity that is shocking and yet for some reason I can’t name I’m terrified too.
Maybe it’s fear of the unknown or the fact that I’ve never felt this level of need. Maybe it’s all the anticipation I’ve built over the last month. Or maybe I’m just afraid that he’s been building this all up and will be disappointed at the end.
Yeah I’m an old hand at sex-bad sex-being a recent divorcee, but I am not that experienced. What Brian and I had had was a lacklustre sex life that was strictly a missionary quick in and out.
I’ve never even had an orgasm that I didn’t give myself and then I’m not sure I’d even done that right.
This could be a disaster and yet as scared as I am right now I want it so badly the ache in my belly amps up to a raging inferno.
“Rem?”
I startle and look to the door with wide eyes.
“Yeah?” I squeak so softly I have to clear my throat and say it again.
“You okay in there babe?”
I don’t answer his softly spoken query but square my shoulders instead and stride to the door, pausing only to look down at myself again. My whole body flushes at the picture I present. My waxed sex is clear and on display through the white lace and my breasts are cupped and pushed together, a feast of golden fleshy globes and dark pink
Learning to Kill: Stories