Page 35 of Bought
How was this even happening?
Closing my eyes had been a mistake. The instant I’d done so all my awareness had zeroed in on him. The sound of his voice, the warmth of his presence. Then the brush of his finger at my throat, the heat of his palm against my breast, and the slide of his finger between my thighs. Little electric shocks, every inch of skin hyper-sensitized.
Then he’d told me to look at him and I hadn’t wanted to, but something in me wouldn’t let me refuse. Something in me wanted to obey, wanted to please him, because the approval in his voice when he’d examined me…
God, part of me had ached. As if all this time I’d been craving his approval and hadn’t known it till now. Craving his sharp, focused attention as he’d looked at every inch of my body. Then when he’d said ‘good’ and ‘delicious’ and ‘satisfactory’, each word had been like warm bursts of sunlight, setting me aglow. As if I’d been a plant stuck in a dark corner for years and had now been put on a shelf and exposed to the light.
I was worth the money, that’s what he’d said. He’d stood at the foot of the bed after he’d licked my wetness off his finger, and there had been blue fire in his eyes.
Of course, then he’d gagged me, which I hadn’t liked one bit, but he’d also freed my hands, which helped. Not that I’d let something as trivial as a piece of cloth between my teeth get to me, and he’d needed to know that.
Except I wasn’t thinking of that gag now. Now what bothered me was him standing at the foot of the bed, his arms folded across his broad chest, his whole attention focused on me, expecting me to touch myself until I came. While he watched.
And the really messed up thing was that I wanted to.
I wanted to desperately. I wanted to be all those things he’d said, responsive and delicious, and worth the money, even as another piece of me was furious at how weak I was that I needed a man’s validation.
I didn’t have to do what he said. I could give him my safe word, but that would be wimping out. And I didn’t want to wimp out.
Do you really need to prove anything to him?
Maybe it wasn’t him I was proving myself to. Maybe it was to myself. Maybe I needed to do it so I knew what I was capable of, that there was nothing I wouldn’t do to get the money I was owed and change my life.
Just lie back and think of Santorini?
Except, I couldn’t concentrate on Santorini, not with him standing there, staring at me, the stern headmaster vibes out of control.
I only ever touched myself in the darkest part of the night when I could claim a few moments of physical pleasure. I’d certainly never done it with anyone watching. I hadn’t even fantasized about it.
Yet, I was panting, my body trembling. I could still feel the lingering electricity of his touch at my throat, my breasts, and between my thighs, all adding to the pressure in my sex.
He’d told me not to meet his gaze, but I went ahead and met it anyway, searching that cold blue stare. Would he like to watch me? Would it crack all that ice? Would it affect him as badly as it was affecting me?
He didn’t warn me to lower my eyes, he simply lifted one black brow. “Well? You know I don’t like asking twice.”
A rush of defiance filled me. He thought I wasn’t going to. He thought I was going to safe word out of this.
Hell. No.
I lifted a shaking hand to my stomach and a flare of heat and approval shifted in his eyes, making a traitorous warmth bloom somewhere behind my breastbone. I wanted more of that approval. I wanted to please him.
Before I could second-guess myself, I slid my hand further down, my fingertips grazing my damp curls.
His gaze sharpened, the ice in it melting, and my breath caught. I was affecting him. He was getting off on watching me. Me, the virgin with nothing to her name but a bit of meager ambition was making the much older, powerful, and experienced billionaire hot.
A rush of heady power filled me, and I slid my hand down further, his stare on mine as I brushed over my aching clit, a shockwave of pleasure sweeping over me. I shuddered, gasping.
His gaze dropped to my hand. “Stroke your clit,” he ordered. “Nice and slow.”
And I did, the way he studied what I was doing so intently adding to the sensation as I brushed my finger over my slick flesh, watching his face even as he watched my hand. It was such a beautiful face, the carved lines so stark and pure. Straight nose, high cheekbones, hard mouth. A stern face, like an angel of judgment who let nothing touch him. Yet I could see the glint of fire in his eyes. He couldn’t hide it from me.
Pleasure licked up my spine in response, a white-hot wave, shocking me with its intensity. I’d never thought I’d enjoy a man’s desire for me, but his was different. It was hidden, controlled, only something he showed when he chose to, and for some reason that made me want it. That made me crave it.
I stroked my clit again, shuddering, and he looked up from my hand suddenly and met my gaze. There it was, that blue fire. Burning bright. He was showing it to me, giving it to me. It was for me.
“Put your finger in your cunt.” His voice was still dark and cold as he said the word, making it sound unbelievably dirty. “Do it slowly and then add another finger. Fuck yourself until you come.”
The words wound their way through me, dark and dirty and raw, and I couldn’t look away from the fierce blaze in his eyes. I bit down on the gag, shaking as I slid one finger through my wet sex, finding the entrance to my body and pushing inside. I was so slick, there was no resistance.