Drake Restrained: A Novella in the Unrestrained Series (The Drake Restrained Series) by S. E. Lund Page B
Authors: S. E. Lund
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embarrassment. I couldn’t help imagining her with a sexual flush instead.
"So? You wanted to speak with me?"
"I wanted to offer you the chance to ask me anything now that I'm here," I said and leaned in closer. I caught a whiff of her perfume and once again was struck by how desirable she smelled. Fresh and warm, making me want to curl my body around hers, my face in her neck.
"I think I got everything I need from Mr. Mills."
"You don't want to hear my side of things? Considering it's my father's foundation…"
She hesitated as if considering. She could walk out if she wanted – there was no reason for her to humor me. Instead, she decided to continue and that gave me a small bit of hope.
"I do have a few questions, more about motivation." She took out an iPhone and started the recording. "Can you tell me why he started this foundation?"
I moved my chair a bit closer, and leaned in, wanting to observe how she responded to my nearness. As I expected, she flushed once more, her cheeks pink.
"He was a socialist, committed to eradicating poverty,” I said, remembering my father with fondness, despite his neglect. “He didn't expect to become rich and so when he did, he poured almost every extra cent into helping hospitals in third world countries, especially Africa. He said something about unequal development and capitalist exploitation – you'd know more about that than me." Dave told me she was a bit of a socialist, so I decided to check and see if he was right.
She frowned, but didn’t correct me. Her politics intrigued me. The fact she had rejected her father's conservatism meant she was a bit rebellious. I liked that. It meant she was trying to think on her own.
"The Foundation continues his work today. Everything we do in the Foundation is to try to fulfill my father's vision, even if only in a small way. He was so committed to his causes." I spoke more about the foundation and why my father started it, how it gave him a chance to give back the money he felt he didn’t need or deserve.
She watched my chin while I spoke as if too shy to look me in the eye, and I enjoyed her reticence. It made me want all the more to force her to look me in the eye when she came. I was going to make her come, of that I was certain. There was nothing I loved more than the moment a sub went over the edge, her orgasm starting, pleasure washing over her, removing the last vestiges of self-control, struggling to obey my command to look me in the eye. It was a moment of such intimacy that it intensified their experience, baring them in a way that being naked and fucked alone didn’t achieve.
I stopped speaking and she said nothing as if transfixed by my mouth. I couldn’t stop from smiling. What was she thinking? Did she imagine kissing me, the way I was imagining kissing her?
I doubted it. She seemed far too shy to imagine me eating her while she watched me, our eyes meeting while I sucked her clit.
"I'm sorry ." She made a face, her cheeks red. "Can you tell me what project you're most proud of?"
I said something about the pediatric neurosurgery program the foundation funded, but in truth, my dick was semi-hard thinking about fucking her and so I barely remembered a word of it.
"Your father died while in Africa several years ago.”
That jolted me back to reality, and not in a pleasant way.
"Yes,” I said, missing him even now, almost a year later. “He died just after you came back from Africa."
"What happened?"
I thought about it, deciding how much to tell. I didn’t really want to reminisce about my father, but she seemed interested so I told the story of how his plane crashed while on a trip to Somalia.
"He was flying into a small base camp where he was going to do some work with a local charity. Even though we were political opposites and didn't always see eye to eye, when he died, it was as if the ground was ripped out from under me." I looked in her eyes and she was listening with rapt attention. "Nothing
"So? You wanted to speak with me?"
"I wanted to offer you the chance to ask me anything now that I'm here," I said and leaned in closer. I caught a whiff of her perfume and once again was struck by how desirable she smelled. Fresh and warm, making me want to curl my body around hers, my face in her neck.
"I think I got everything I need from Mr. Mills."
"You don't want to hear my side of things? Considering it's my father's foundation…"
She hesitated as if considering. She could walk out if she wanted – there was no reason for her to humor me. Instead, she decided to continue and that gave me a small bit of hope.
"I do have a few questions, more about motivation." She took out an iPhone and started the recording. "Can you tell me why he started this foundation?"
I moved my chair a bit closer, and leaned in, wanting to observe how she responded to my nearness. As I expected, she flushed once more, her cheeks pink.
"He was a socialist, committed to eradicating poverty,” I said, remembering my father with fondness, despite his neglect. “He didn't expect to become rich and so when he did, he poured almost every extra cent into helping hospitals in third world countries, especially Africa. He said something about unequal development and capitalist exploitation – you'd know more about that than me." Dave told me she was a bit of a socialist, so I decided to check and see if he was right.
She frowned, but didn’t correct me. Her politics intrigued me. The fact she had rejected her father's conservatism meant she was a bit rebellious. I liked that. It meant she was trying to think on her own.
"The Foundation continues his work today. Everything we do in the Foundation is to try to fulfill my father's vision, even if only in a small way. He was so committed to his causes." I spoke more about the foundation and why my father started it, how it gave him a chance to give back the money he felt he didn’t need or deserve.
She watched my chin while I spoke as if too shy to look me in the eye, and I enjoyed her reticence. It made me want all the more to force her to look me in the eye when she came. I was going to make her come, of that I was certain. There was nothing I loved more than the moment a sub went over the edge, her orgasm starting, pleasure washing over her, removing the last vestiges of self-control, struggling to obey my command to look me in the eye. It was a moment of such intimacy that it intensified their experience, baring them in a way that being naked and fucked alone didn’t achieve.
I stopped speaking and she said nothing as if transfixed by my mouth. I couldn’t stop from smiling. What was she thinking? Did she imagine kissing me, the way I was imagining kissing her?
I doubted it. She seemed far too shy to imagine me eating her while she watched me, our eyes meeting while I sucked her clit.
"I'm sorry ." She made a face, her cheeks red. "Can you tell me what project you're most proud of?"
I said something about the pediatric neurosurgery program the foundation funded, but in truth, my dick was semi-hard thinking about fucking her and so I barely remembered a word of it.
"Your father died while in Africa several years ago.”
That jolted me back to reality, and not in a pleasant way.
"Yes,” I said, missing him even now, almost a year later. “He died just after you came back from Africa."
"What happened?"
I thought about it, deciding how much to tell. I didn’t really want to reminisce about my father, but she seemed interested so I told the story of how his plane crashed while on a trip to Somalia.
"He was flying into a small base camp where he was going to do some work with a local charity. Even though we were political opposites and didn't always see eye to eye, when he died, it was as if the ground was ripped out from under me." I looked in her eyes and she was listening with rapt attention. "Nothing
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