was expecting it.
Tonight is different though.
I am doing this for Beck because I
want
to do this for him. I want him to have a memorable birthday because the one he had three days ago was shitty. And I want to see him smile because of it and know that someone on this earth is thinking about him in the way that he deserves.
“You are too much,” he murmurs as he drops his keys on the side table and prowls toward me.
He stops just inches away, the light from the candles making his face glow and his eyes to sizzle. I give him an impertinent smirk. “I only put five candles on. Didn’t want to burn down the house, old man.”
Beck snickers and turns to blow out the candles. “I’m only twenty-eight and I’m going to make you pay for that ‘old man’ comment.”
Beck takes the cake from my hand and turns to set it on the table beside his keys. As he turns back to me, he eyes the bottom of the ribbon hugging my thighs. “Got anything on under that pretty bow?”
“Nope,” I tell him, my hand still resting on my hip and trying to hold my sexy pose. I have no clue if I’m pulling it off, but Beck seems to appreciate what he sees.
“Perfect,” Beck murmurs, and his hands come to my shoulders. He turns me around and starts pushing me toward the dining room table. He kicks one of the massive chairs covered in cream leather to the side and uses an arm to push my books away, clearing a space just in front of me.
“Bend over,” he says as he puts a hand to the center of my back and starts pushing me forward.
Immediately I flush all over with warmth and awareness of what this must look like. I know the farther I bend over, the more the ribbon is going to ride up high on my ass and bare myself to him.
But even as I experience the thrill of excitement over the position he’s putting me in, a wave of anxiety hits me hard. My chest tightens and my muscles tense all over. My hands are practically shaking between nerves, fear, and desire as those emotions battle within me.
I consider pushing back against him, refusing to give him my backside. I know it will immediately ease my fear because I do not fuck doggy style.
Never.
Not since that night.
I’m betting the few partners I’ve had just assumed that means I’m just too vanilla for that, or maybe they just don’t care as long as they get to fuck me, but I’ve never been pressured before to do it. Only one guy had an issue with it, and he ultimately declared me too boring in bed to satisfy his needs when I refused.
Of course, he only said that after he fucked me missionary and got his rocks off.
But as much as this situation concerns me, there’s an equal part that is curious. My fight-or-flight response would normally gear me to flight, too terrified to do anything that would too closely resemble those vague flashes of memory that haunt me.
But Beck has proven to be different. That was apparent the minute he made me orgasm that first time, and thus there is a part of me that has formed a measure of trust in him to not hurt me. This part of Sela Halstead wants to push at my boundaries even though I’m scared shitless to do so.
With a deep breath, I take a moment to also remind myself that I don’t want to do anything to turn Beck off. I don’t want him to lose interest in me, and thus lose my tenuous connection he gives me to Townsend. So as if that sentiment almost gives me permission to explore my desire for him, I decide to let Beck have his way with me from a position where I can’t see a damn thing he’s doing to me.
My hands lower to the dark Danish teak wood to support myself and I lower my torso until my ribbon-covered breasts are mashed against the table. I turn my head to the side, rest my cheek against the cool surface, and stare out the window at the twinkling lights of the Bay Bridge. I take deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart, which is fueled in equal parts by apprehension and desire.
“I think this might be the most
Tonight is different though.
I am doing this for Beck because I
want
to do this for him. I want him to have a memorable birthday because the one he had three days ago was shitty. And I want to see him smile because of it and know that someone on this earth is thinking about him in the way that he deserves.
“You are too much,” he murmurs as he drops his keys on the side table and prowls toward me.
He stops just inches away, the light from the candles making his face glow and his eyes to sizzle. I give him an impertinent smirk. “I only put five candles on. Didn’t want to burn down the house, old man.”
Beck snickers and turns to blow out the candles. “I’m only twenty-eight and I’m going to make you pay for that ‘old man’ comment.”
Beck takes the cake from my hand and turns to set it on the table beside his keys. As he turns back to me, he eyes the bottom of the ribbon hugging my thighs. “Got anything on under that pretty bow?”
“Nope,” I tell him, my hand still resting on my hip and trying to hold my sexy pose. I have no clue if I’m pulling it off, but Beck seems to appreciate what he sees.
“Perfect,” Beck murmurs, and his hands come to my shoulders. He turns me around and starts pushing me toward the dining room table. He kicks one of the massive chairs covered in cream leather to the side and uses an arm to push my books away, clearing a space just in front of me.
“Bend over,” he says as he puts a hand to the center of my back and starts pushing me forward.
Immediately I flush all over with warmth and awareness of what this must look like. I know the farther I bend over, the more the ribbon is going to ride up high on my ass and bare myself to him.
But even as I experience the thrill of excitement over the position he’s putting me in, a wave of anxiety hits me hard. My chest tightens and my muscles tense all over. My hands are practically shaking between nerves, fear, and desire as those emotions battle within me.
I consider pushing back against him, refusing to give him my backside. I know it will immediately ease my fear because I do not fuck doggy style.
Never.
Not since that night.
I’m betting the few partners I’ve had just assumed that means I’m just too vanilla for that, or maybe they just don’t care as long as they get to fuck me, but I’ve never been pressured before to do it. Only one guy had an issue with it, and he ultimately declared me too boring in bed to satisfy his needs when I refused.
Of course, he only said that after he fucked me missionary and got his rocks off.
But as much as this situation concerns me, there’s an equal part that is curious. My fight-or-flight response would normally gear me to flight, too terrified to do anything that would too closely resemble those vague flashes of memory that haunt me.
But Beck has proven to be different. That was apparent the minute he made me orgasm that first time, and thus there is a part of me that has formed a measure of trust in him to not hurt me. This part of Sela Halstead wants to push at my boundaries even though I’m scared shitless to do so.
With a deep breath, I take a moment to also remind myself that I don’t want to do anything to turn Beck off. I don’t want him to lose interest in me, and thus lose my tenuous connection he gives me to Townsend. So as if that sentiment almost gives me permission to explore my desire for him, I decide to let Beck have his way with me from a position where I can’t see a damn thing he’s doing to me.
My hands lower to the dark Danish teak wood to support myself and I lower my torso until my ribbon-covered breasts are mashed against the table. I turn my head to the side, rest my cheek against the cool surface, and stare out the window at the twinkling lights of the Bay Bridge. I take deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart, which is fueled in equal parts by apprehension and desire.
“I think this might be the most
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