secret.
“Breaking the rules is part of the fun, Sophie.”
“I could use a bit of fun.” Which is a massive understatement, as reflected in my now damp panties. God knows the last time a man touched me in a gentle way is far beyond the reach of my memory. The thought of his deft hands traveling over my skin, his hard body pressed against mine. There are a million reasons to say no. I don’t know this man. I am not generally so forward or casual about sex. But one good reason shines above all, screaming, YES, to the heavens. I want to. With every fiber of my being, every inch of my skin, I want it. Ramifications be damned. I will be gone before we get too close, I won’t allow myself to get hurt. “What exactly are you suggesting?” His eyes light up and he leans forwards, resting his elbows on the desk, a wide grin pulling at his perfectly full lips.
“You just agree to spend the night with me and leave the rest up to me.” He leans back again, pleased with himself, crossing his legs. “I think that’s what I need. You definitely need it.” I am tripped up by his casual declaration that all I have to do is show up, like a prop. Immediately a chip of doubt erodes on my shoulder. What am I getting myself into?
“Leave it all up to you?” The first chill of warning trickles down my spine, like ice water, cooling the fire he just lit. I will not relinquish control to anyone, much less a man I have just met. I will never make that mistake again.
“I will have my way with you, Sophie. You just let me take care of you, and trust that I know what you need. I know what I like, Sophie. Do you?” I suppose I should steel myself for more of these probing, personal questions, but it suddenly feels invasive. How dare he insinuate that I don’t know what I like. Do I know what I like? I know I don’t like to be used. I know I don’t like to be hit. I know I have never been able to explore what I like because I have always been so hell bent on pleasing someone else. So deathly afraid to recognize, or put into words the things that my body calls for deep in my dreams, for fear of ridicule and shame. And with that thought I know I will do it. I know that I will be safe, he can’t hurt me, I won’t let him.
“I want you, and I promise I will make you forget all about him. Trust me, give yourself to me, we would be amazing together, I can feel it.” I pick my jaw up off the ground before I can form a solid thought. Give yourself to me? What is this an old Dracula movie?
“So, I am to be added to your collection?”
“No, I don’t believe that you belong in a collection , Sophie. You are a treasure unto yourself, unparalleled.” A giggle escapes my throat before I can catch it. Such a seedy proposal crossing sweet lips is surely an anomaly. He frowns and waits for an explanation.
“You make it sound like I am giving you some sort of gift. I don’t know that I can give myself to you, to anyone.” The crack in my voice betrays the calm I try to exude. Control is something I have fought tooth and nail for recently. The thought of handing myself over makes my blood run cold. Yet, in his eyes, the way he looks at me, I want to believe that I can handle this. There is nothing resembling calm running through my body. My mind breaks into a sprint, unsure of my capacity to trust. But Rhys’ intense glare grips me and demands an answer. I am exasperated, insulted, intrigued. Frightened and exhilarated. It is a heady cocktail of conflict, wanting to be with him so badly I can almost feel his hands skating across my skin and being frightened by the prospect of what he has in mind.
“You are a gift, Sophie. I cannot wait to watch you come undone. I cannot wait until you give yourself to me. And you will, because deep down, you want to. It is written all over your body.” He licks his bottom lip and it rings deep in my belly. “I thought you may react this way, which makes the prospect all the more
“Breaking the rules is part of the fun, Sophie.”
“I could use a bit of fun.” Which is a massive understatement, as reflected in my now damp panties. God knows the last time a man touched me in a gentle way is far beyond the reach of my memory. The thought of his deft hands traveling over my skin, his hard body pressed against mine. There are a million reasons to say no. I don’t know this man. I am not generally so forward or casual about sex. But one good reason shines above all, screaming, YES, to the heavens. I want to. With every fiber of my being, every inch of my skin, I want it. Ramifications be damned. I will be gone before we get too close, I won’t allow myself to get hurt. “What exactly are you suggesting?” His eyes light up and he leans forwards, resting his elbows on the desk, a wide grin pulling at his perfectly full lips.
“You just agree to spend the night with me and leave the rest up to me.” He leans back again, pleased with himself, crossing his legs. “I think that’s what I need. You definitely need it.” I am tripped up by his casual declaration that all I have to do is show up, like a prop. Immediately a chip of doubt erodes on my shoulder. What am I getting myself into?
“Leave it all up to you?” The first chill of warning trickles down my spine, like ice water, cooling the fire he just lit. I will not relinquish control to anyone, much less a man I have just met. I will never make that mistake again.
“I will have my way with you, Sophie. You just let me take care of you, and trust that I know what you need. I know what I like, Sophie. Do you?” I suppose I should steel myself for more of these probing, personal questions, but it suddenly feels invasive. How dare he insinuate that I don’t know what I like. Do I know what I like? I know I don’t like to be used. I know I don’t like to be hit. I know I have never been able to explore what I like because I have always been so hell bent on pleasing someone else. So deathly afraid to recognize, or put into words the things that my body calls for deep in my dreams, for fear of ridicule and shame. And with that thought I know I will do it. I know that I will be safe, he can’t hurt me, I won’t let him.
“I want you, and I promise I will make you forget all about him. Trust me, give yourself to me, we would be amazing together, I can feel it.” I pick my jaw up off the ground before I can form a solid thought. Give yourself to me? What is this an old Dracula movie?
“So, I am to be added to your collection?”
“No, I don’t believe that you belong in a collection , Sophie. You are a treasure unto yourself, unparalleled.” A giggle escapes my throat before I can catch it. Such a seedy proposal crossing sweet lips is surely an anomaly. He frowns and waits for an explanation.
“You make it sound like I am giving you some sort of gift. I don’t know that I can give myself to you, to anyone.” The crack in my voice betrays the calm I try to exude. Control is something I have fought tooth and nail for recently. The thought of handing myself over makes my blood run cold. Yet, in his eyes, the way he looks at me, I want to believe that I can handle this. There is nothing resembling calm running through my body. My mind breaks into a sprint, unsure of my capacity to trust. But Rhys’ intense glare grips me and demands an answer. I am exasperated, insulted, intrigued. Frightened and exhilarated. It is a heady cocktail of conflict, wanting to be with him so badly I can almost feel his hands skating across my skin and being frightened by the prospect of what he has in mind.
“You are a gift, Sophie. I cannot wait to watch you come undone. I cannot wait until you give yourself to me. And you will, because deep down, you want to. It is written all over your body.” He licks his bottom lip and it rings deep in my belly. “I thought you may react this way, which makes the prospect all the more
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