Restraining the Receptionist: ... the Receptionist, Book 2 by Juniper Bell Read Free Book Online

casual fuck-buddy. “Why’d you do that?”
    “Oh, just wanted to check out their selection. Tour their facilities. I found he does house calls. Or office calls, in our case. He brings his equipment with him. We could put you back on that conference table. Strip you down. Shave you. I asked Bobby O and he agreed that it’s easier if the pussy is bare. Of course he can do it either way, but I’d prefer to shave you again first. We could do it right then and there, while he watched. I’d hold your arms down and Simon would keep your legs spread. Bobby O would do the shaving. Something tells me he’s no stranger to your sweet pussy. I might even let him give you an orgasm first with his tongue. I didn’t discuss this with him, but it seems that some pre-op relaxation might be advisable.”
    Was Ethan Cowell literally the devil, a silver-tongued devil? He wielded that voice like a Samurai sword. I shifted in my chair, which made his eyes go glittery.
    “Of course we’d have to clean you off afterwards. You know how juicy you can get. I’d make sure we had washcloths and warm water on hand. And towels to pat you dry. Which would probably make you wet all over again, but we’d cross that bridge if we had to. When he was happy with how you’d been prepared, he’d get out his piercing needle. I’m told it takes only a second to perform the piercing, and the recovery time is relatively quick. Until you were entirely healed, of course we’d have to confine ourselves to your ass and your mouth. Not much of a hardship for the potential benefit. Would you mind putting your hands in your panties now?”
    Instantly, automatically, I obeyed. Not until my hand was snugged against my scalding sex did I realize he’d broken the rules. Except he hadn’t because he hadn’t told me to do anything. He’d asked if I “minded”.
    I snatched my hand from my snatch. “Yes, I mind.”
    He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, a dreamy smile softening his face. “Ah, the scent of aroused, sexually stymied female. You want it bad, don’t you?”
    What I wanted was to throw the nearest heavy item at him. The computer would do. Tempted, I eyed it.
    “If you toss me your panties, perhaps I’ll tell you about my thumbnail.” Now that was a tempting offer. But I resisted. If I gave into him now, I’d never have any leverage with him again.
    “Don’t forget, luv. All you have to do is ask.” With a wink, he disappeared through the door to the inner suite.
    It took me quite a while to chase away my shivers. Maybe it was the deep door-hinge raspiness of his voice, or that killer British accent, the man had a way with words, and those words had a way with me.
    About an hour later I got an email from Ethan. It contained the link to an old newspaper article from England, with the headline, “Prisoners of War Freed After Living Nightmare.” Ethan’s name appeared nowhere in it, which made sense because the prisoners of war were British undercover operatives. They’d been tortured and several had become addicted to heroin smuggled into prison. But they were considered heroes because they hadn’t given up any information, or at least any information that mattered. One detail stood out. A prisoner who’d been particularly cruelly treated. His thumbnail had been torn off during an interrogation. Later, he’d tried to use it to do heroin, like a spoon.
    Prisoner of war. Tortured. Drug addict . And yet, I’d never seen Ethan do drugs. He avoided anything stronger than a lunchtime martini. Maybe our addictive natures gave us something in common.
    I wasn’t sure what was more shocking, what Ethan had gone through, or the fact he’d chosen to share it with me. At any rate, when he left for the day, I offered him my very first from-my-heart, I’m-not-afraid-of-you smile. It seemed to surprise him. He stopped halfway across the room, gave me a scorching, lingering look that rocked me down to my bones, then left with a nod. And a