“Are you wet, Prosper?” He whispered it against her ear.
Her eyes were closed. Please don’t touch me there, or you’ll know. You’ll know.
“Answer me, ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir,’” he said. “Prosper. Are you wet?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“Louder.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m wet.”
He moved his hand farther up the inside of her thigh, and she jerked again. He held his palm over the inadequate triangle of material that covered her. It hovered there, a hairbreadth away. If he pressed down, his palm would come away soaking wet.
“Please—”
His unforgiving gaze was terrifying. “Please what? Please touch you?”
“No, no,” she pleaded. “Please don’t.”
“I already know you’re wet.” He smiled. “You told me. Either way I would have known. I can look at your eyes and see it.”
“I just don’t want you to—”
“Take it as an invitation?”
“It’s just my body, my body doing things—”
“Your mind doesn’t agree with your body? Your mind isn’t turned on by what I’m doing to you? Tying you down, touching you, but not quite touching you enough?”
She looked at him, desperately wanting to produce the right answer. In the end she kept silent, too horny to speak.
“I turn you on because I like to see it. I’d like to feel it too, but I won’t. Not today. But if I’m turning you on, don’t try to hide it from me. Do you understand, girl?”
Her mouth fell open a little. If he made her any hotter, her pussy was going to set fire to his bed.
“‘Yes, Sir,’” he prompted her.
“Yes, Sir, I won’t hide it. I—I’ll try not to—”
“Try? No. See that you do.”
He moved his hand up the inside of her thigh slowly, teasingly. “Okay. Let’s go again. Show me how it feels.”
When his palm hovered over her center, when she couldn’t evade his eyes and she felt she would die from craving his touch, she stretched and arched with a soft sigh.
“Good girl,” he said. “More.” He lowered his mouth to her nipples again and wrested two throaty moans from her as he pulled each one into his mouth and suckled it. Her chest rose and fell as pleasure flooded her.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered. “Under my power. Under my control. Do you want me to control you, Prosper?”
“Oh, yes, Sir.” She said the words with no conscious thought, only knowing they were true.
“And what if it hurts sometimes? Will you still want it?”
“Yes. Yes…” His hand was running over her belly now, down over her garter belt, then lower. He pressed just where her thong began, at the top of her pubis. She gritted her teeth and strained at the ropes. Lower, lower! Please!
“Yes, I see now.” His breath blew against her ear. “I see exactly what you need. Exactly what you want.”
She shook her head, past rational thought. He was torturing her. The heel of his hand pressed again on her pubic bone but slid no lower. It wasn’t enough; it wasn’t enough!
Then his hand left her. He rolled off the bed and began to untie her ankles. Her hips arched, seeking fulfillment he wasn’t going to give. “Our hour is almost up,” he said.
No, no, it can’t be. I need more.
He untied her other ankle, then knelt over her to untie her wrists. He straddled her naked breasts, and she could feel his knees pressed against her shoulders, the rough fabric of his pants chafing her nipples. His erection, though clothed, thrust practically against her face. She felt pinned. She felt completely submissive to him. Prosper had never in her twenty-five years wanted to suck a man’s cock, but she thought if he weren’t dressed, that’s exactly what she would have done. She would have opened her mouth and taken his full length gratefully. She would have had no choice from the way his body subdued her, and that turned her on most of all.
When at last her wrists were untied, he moved aside and leaned down to kiss her. “Turn over,” he said against her jaw. And then when she hesitated, “Just obey. I’ve already told you I won’t hurt you.”
She turned over, and when she was on her belly, he knelt between her legs and pushed her thighs wider apart. She felt the impulse to resist him, but he made a noise in his throat, and she yielded.
“I’m not going to tie you this time. Put your hands over your head. Hold the headboard. Stay that way.”
She did as she was told. He ran his hands up her back, warm, rough contact, then snaked them around and underneath to grope her breasts. She arched, trying to draw her legs together, but his knees were impeding her, spreading her wide. She lay still instead, taking short, panicked breaths like a trapped animal. He won’t hurt you. He won’t hurt you.
But that wasn’t why she trembled. No. It wasn’t pain she feared. It was something she wanted, something so overwhelming she could barely control herself. She ground against the coverlet, felt the silk triangle of fabric adhere to the wetness between her legs. She tried to ease the ache building there, but he made a noise of disapproval. He put his hands around her waist and stilled her, preventing her attempt at relief. “No. I’m in charge right now, not you.”
She moaned—a fervent, desperate sound she couldn’t believe had come from her own lips.
He didn’t relent. “No. I said no.”
He rubbed the small of her back with his thumbs. His hands were large enough to almost completely span her waist. The hard grip reminded her of the way he partnered her in rehearsals. His touch then had hinted at a power, a ruthless ability she didn’t understand.
She understood it now.
She went pliant under his hands, gave herself up to his mastery. Her past D/s experiences had been nothing like this. She felt, for the first time, truly dominated. She was at his mercy. She shivered and tensed, resisting the urge to let go of the headboard and soothe the part of her that ached.
He shifted behind her and moved closer. He drew one hand up the inside of her thigh, the other arm wrapped under her hips, cradling her, or perhaps holding her so she couldn’t get away. His palm hovered, lingered over her hot, aching center. Oh, he was going to touch her!
“Don’t move. Not one inch.”
Oh God, she was going to die. She felt the heat of his palm where he held it still over her pussy. If he didn’t touch her, if he didn’t plunge his fingers inside—It took every fiber of her control not to arch forward against his palm. She vibrated under his fingers, craving, needing satisfaction. If only he would touch her—
“Good girl,” he said, releasing her. “Time’s up.”
Chapter Six
She pulled on her clothes, blushing and coy again the moment the naughty lingerie was hidden underneath. He watched her dress with a mixture of wonder and depression. He squelched the urge to strip her naked again and take her down to the bed. His fantasies of a raunchy, sex-soaked romp with Julie were long forgotten. His chaste little scene with Prosper had been much better than anything he could have dreamed.
He hadn’t slept with her, they hadn’t had intercourse, but he’d touched every part of her he’d longed to touch since he first watched her take class. Well, he hadn’t touched every part of her, but close enough. Close enough to hold him until the next time. There would be a next time; that was sure. He hadn’t asked her about it because he wouldn’t leave it up to her. No, her first instinct would be to run away, to create safe distance. He wouldn’t leave the decision with her.