something harder than my hand.”
His words charge me with an instant surge of lust.
How does he do that? He says the worst things, and they have me panting with desire.
I put the phone on the bed and take off my clothes, gasping as the movement causes the pearls to hitch a little higher.
Then I slide into the dress and turn to regard myself in the mirror.
It really is short. I turn experimentally to see whether my indecent underwear is on show. It’s not, I decide, but if I bend forward a little, the string of pearls is on clear display. I swallow. No walking up staircases then.
I pick up the phone again.
“I’m wearing the dress,” I say.
“Good. Now put on a pair of shoes and come downstairs.”
“Ok.” Did I detect something in his voice? What’s going to happen when I walk downstairs?
I select a pair of heels and slide them on.
Then I step slowly out of the bedroom, every movement bringing a fresh surge of teasing pressure to my already highly stimulated underside.
Then, as I take the first step down the stairs, I realise the reason for the edge to his voice.
The downward movement causes an extra layer of friction to rise up through the pearls.
“Ahhh,” I murmur into the phone as the pearls take me to a new level of pleasure.
“Take your time on the stairs,” says James. I can hear by his voice how pleased he is by my reaction.
“You’d better be ready to finish what you’ve started,” I mutter into the phone. “Where are you?”
I move downwards again. Each step is a beautiful, arousing agony.
“I’m outside,” he says with a little laugh. “But I don’t think I’ll be ready to finish what I’ve started for a long time yet. Having you in this state of arousal is giving me great pleasure.”
I emit a little half-groan of frustration.
“I hope that wasn’t a swearword, Isabella,” says James. “I think from now on, any bad language will require an extra hour wearing those pearls.”
An extra hour? He can’t mean for me to be wearing these for more than an hour at most. I resolve to keep silent, just in case.
I’ve made it off the bottom step now, and walking over flat ground is less testing. The pearls slide teasingly underneath me, but the feeling is softer, less intense.
I make it to the front door and open it to see James grinning widely on the other side. He is wearing a mid-grey suit, with a dark grey shirt and black tie. His brown hair is styled slightly upwards, making his dark brows look even more devilish than usual.
“Enjoying your penalty?” he asks innocently.
“I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you,” I say, stepping out of the chalet.
“Kiss me then,” he says. “I’d love to see you get even more worked up.”
I nod to the car parked behind him. It’s not the convertible BMW this time. This is a sleek Mercedes. “Are we driving somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’d better let me get inside.”
“No kiss?” He feigns disappointment.
“Trust me, you couldn’t handle it.”
He raises a heavy eyebrow and then walks ahead of me to open the car door.
I slide inside, hitching the pearls to another delicious roll between my legs.
I moan as James slides into the car beside me, starting the engine.
He turns to look at me and then pulls off his tie.
“Just in case you get any ideas,” he says, reaching over and binding my hands. “I wouldn’t like you to afford yourself any relief whilst we’re driving. That wouldn’t be a fair punishment at all.” As an afterthought, he slips the seat belt over me and buckles it up.
“There,” he says, giving me an appreciat ive look up and down. “I don’t think I have ever seen you look so fuck-able, Ms. Green. But you’ll be pleased to know I can control myself.”
“How long for?” I plead as he pops the gear and puts the car into motion.
“Patience, Isabella,” he says. “We have an entire dinner to get through before I’m finished with you. Then I might have you in
His words charge me with an instant surge of lust.
How does he do that? He says the worst things, and they have me panting with desire.
I put the phone on the bed and take off my clothes, gasping as the movement causes the pearls to hitch a little higher.
Then I slide into the dress and turn to regard myself in the mirror.
It really is short. I turn experimentally to see whether my indecent underwear is on show. It’s not, I decide, but if I bend forward a little, the string of pearls is on clear display. I swallow. No walking up staircases then.
I pick up the phone again.
“I’m wearing the dress,” I say.
“Good. Now put on a pair of shoes and come downstairs.”
“Ok.” Did I detect something in his voice? What’s going to happen when I walk downstairs?
I select a pair of heels and slide them on.
Then I step slowly out of the bedroom, every movement bringing a fresh surge of teasing pressure to my already highly stimulated underside.
Then, as I take the first step down the stairs, I realise the reason for the edge to his voice.
The downward movement causes an extra layer of friction to rise up through the pearls.
“Ahhh,” I murmur into the phone as the pearls take me to a new level of pleasure.
“Take your time on the stairs,” says James. I can hear by his voice how pleased he is by my reaction.
“You’d better be ready to finish what you’ve started,” I mutter into the phone. “Where are you?”
I move downwards again. Each step is a beautiful, arousing agony.
“I’m outside,” he says with a little laugh. “But I don’t think I’ll be ready to finish what I’ve started for a long time yet. Having you in this state of arousal is giving me great pleasure.”
I emit a little half-groan of frustration.
“I hope that wasn’t a swearword, Isabella,” says James. “I think from now on, any bad language will require an extra hour wearing those pearls.”
An extra hour? He can’t mean for me to be wearing these for more than an hour at most. I resolve to keep silent, just in case.
I’ve made it off the bottom step now, and walking over flat ground is less testing. The pearls slide teasingly underneath me, but the feeling is softer, less intense.
I make it to the front door and open it to see James grinning widely on the other side. He is wearing a mid-grey suit, with a dark grey shirt and black tie. His brown hair is styled slightly upwards, making his dark brows look even more devilish than usual.
“Enjoying your penalty?” he asks innocently.
“I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you,” I say, stepping out of the chalet.
“Kiss me then,” he says. “I’d love to see you get even more worked up.”
I nod to the car parked behind him. It’s not the convertible BMW this time. This is a sleek Mercedes. “Are we driving somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’d better let me get inside.”
“No kiss?” He feigns disappointment.
“Trust me, you couldn’t handle it.”
He raises a heavy eyebrow and then walks ahead of me to open the car door.
I slide inside, hitching the pearls to another delicious roll between my legs.
I moan as James slides into the car beside me, starting the engine.
He turns to look at me and then pulls off his tie.
“Just in case you get any ideas,” he says, reaching over and binding my hands. “I wouldn’t like you to afford yourself any relief whilst we’re driving. That wouldn’t be a fair punishment at all.” As an afterthought, he slips the seat belt over me and buckles it up.
“There,” he says, giving me an appreciat ive look up and down. “I don’t think I have ever seen you look so fuck-able, Ms. Green. But you’ll be pleased to know I can control myself.”
“How long for?” I plead as he pops the gear and puts the car into motion.
“Patience, Isabella,” he says. “We have an entire dinner to get through before I’m finished with you. Then I might have you in
Similar Books
