difficulty than I anticipated.
“Yes, sir.” She nods.
“I told you I would push and bend until you break. However, though I want to break you, I would rather die and spend an eternity in hell before shattering you. So, to avoid that, you give me a word, no more than two syllables, a word that you speak only before you shatter and lose yourself. Ms. Reese, I need you to give me your safe word.”
“Rust.” She says with such evident determination I have to bite my tongue from asking the meaning behind her choice of words.
“Rust it is.” I stand before gathering both of her hands in mine, pulling her to her feet and leading her to my room.
Chapter 14
What a Stupid, Scared Lamb
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
My internal rallying is cut off when Wes leads me through the heavy double doors and into a bed room that closely resembles the one used by Jonathan Rhys Meyers or Henry VIII from The Tudors.
A huge massive four-poster king size bed resting on a raised platform takes up most of the far wall. Dark gleaming hardwood floors peek out from around plush area rugs strategically placed throughout the room. Off to the side a small bar is sounded by a sitting area with furniture in the same dark reds, browns and gold colors the rest of the room holds.
The sound of Wesley’s shoes clunking on the floor draws my attention to where he now stands beside the bed. I watch in utter fascination as he slowly unbuttons his dark gray dress shirt, his eyes never leave mine, but my nerves keep me from being able to maintain eye contact. Once my eyes slide to his hands I can’t stop them from devouring every inch of the tan skin he reveals, inch by inch, button by button.
After his shirt is completely unbuttoned he makes quick work of his cuffs before his shirt flutters to the floor and the weight of his belt causes his pants to do the same.
Son of a FUCK. The man is absolutely beautiful. No, not just beautiful, I mean he is the epitome of male perfection. Look! Count them! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8— You get that ladies? Eight pack. Jesus Christmas, I thought the V was a mythical thing; a photo shopped, or spray tan, an optical illusion. No. No. I gladly. Fuck gladly, I emphatically, enthusiastically, announce it is absolutely not. They do exist. I know I’m gawking, running my eyes from his broad freckled tan shoulders to his narrowed waist over and over but shit, I can’t help it. It’s like Twitch, Remy, and Jesse all tossed their DNA together, and I get to ride the result!
“Come here, Stella.” His husky command causes a shudder to convulse throughout my body before I instantly move forward.
Out of pure instinct my head remains lowered, I’m uncertain if it’s because I’m trying to hide my excitement or something else altogether.
When I’m standing in front of him it places his cock directly in my field of vision. Damn, even his cock is beautiful. Every fucking thick rigid inch of it. I lick my lips as the memory of tasting him floods my mind.
I hear Wesley tsk me before feeling his fingertips touch my chin and tilt my head back until my eyes meet his. His husky voice causes my thighs to clench together on their own accord, but his words have my eyes rolling back into my head before moaning, “As much as I love fucking that pouty mouth of yours, angel, I will lose my goddamn mind and blow this entire thing if I allow your lips anywhere near my cock right now.”
His hands span my waist and he hauls me up causing me to yelp before gently lying me down on the bed. He walks around to the other side until he’s at my head, “Arms, angel.” I raise my arms and lay them above my head. His fingers circle both wrists before I feel silky material slithering around them and tighten, binding them together then anchoring them securely to the bed.
The position pulls my shoulders further back into the mattress, pushing my breasts out to a Russian salute. I close my eyes and listen as his bare
“Yes, sir.” She nods.
“I told you I would push and bend until you break. However, though I want to break you, I would rather die and spend an eternity in hell before shattering you. So, to avoid that, you give me a word, no more than two syllables, a word that you speak only before you shatter and lose yourself. Ms. Reese, I need you to give me your safe word.”
“Rust.” She says with such evident determination I have to bite my tongue from asking the meaning behind her choice of words.
“Rust it is.” I stand before gathering both of her hands in mine, pulling her to her feet and leading her to my room.
Chapter 14
What a Stupid, Scared Lamb
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
My internal rallying is cut off when Wes leads me through the heavy double doors and into a bed room that closely resembles the one used by Jonathan Rhys Meyers or Henry VIII from The Tudors.
A huge massive four-poster king size bed resting on a raised platform takes up most of the far wall. Dark gleaming hardwood floors peek out from around plush area rugs strategically placed throughout the room. Off to the side a small bar is sounded by a sitting area with furniture in the same dark reds, browns and gold colors the rest of the room holds.
The sound of Wesley’s shoes clunking on the floor draws my attention to where he now stands beside the bed. I watch in utter fascination as he slowly unbuttons his dark gray dress shirt, his eyes never leave mine, but my nerves keep me from being able to maintain eye contact. Once my eyes slide to his hands I can’t stop them from devouring every inch of the tan skin he reveals, inch by inch, button by button.
After his shirt is completely unbuttoned he makes quick work of his cuffs before his shirt flutters to the floor and the weight of his belt causes his pants to do the same.
Son of a FUCK. The man is absolutely beautiful. No, not just beautiful, I mean he is the epitome of male perfection. Look! Count them! 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8— You get that ladies? Eight pack. Jesus Christmas, I thought the V was a mythical thing; a photo shopped, or spray tan, an optical illusion. No. No. I gladly. Fuck gladly, I emphatically, enthusiastically, announce it is absolutely not. They do exist. I know I’m gawking, running my eyes from his broad freckled tan shoulders to his narrowed waist over and over but shit, I can’t help it. It’s like Twitch, Remy, and Jesse all tossed their DNA together, and I get to ride the result!
“Come here, Stella.” His husky command causes a shudder to convulse throughout my body before I instantly move forward.
Out of pure instinct my head remains lowered, I’m uncertain if it’s because I’m trying to hide my excitement or something else altogether.
When I’m standing in front of him it places his cock directly in my field of vision. Damn, even his cock is beautiful. Every fucking thick rigid inch of it. I lick my lips as the memory of tasting him floods my mind.
I hear Wesley tsk me before feeling his fingertips touch my chin and tilt my head back until my eyes meet his. His husky voice causes my thighs to clench together on their own accord, but his words have my eyes rolling back into my head before moaning, “As much as I love fucking that pouty mouth of yours, angel, I will lose my goddamn mind and blow this entire thing if I allow your lips anywhere near my cock right now.”
His hands span my waist and he hauls me up causing me to yelp before gently lying me down on the bed. He walks around to the other side until he’s at my head, “Arms, angel.” I raise my arms and lay them above my head. His fingers circle both wrists before I feel silky material slithering around them and tighten, binding them together then anchoring them securely to the bed.
The position pulls my shoulders further back into the mattress, pushing my breasts out to a Russian salute. I close my eyes and listen as his bare
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