Dec didn’t know what he would do, how he’d react if she said no. Thank God he didn’t have to find out because, with a look of relief, she followed him to the elevator without a word. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d wanted a woman more, not even in his horny college days when women were all he’d thought about. It’s just pent up frustration from pent up lust he told himself as they exited the elevator and he led her into the first room on the right. From the way his cock pressed with painful insistence against his zipper, he felt as if he could explode any second. He knew he would’ve had no qualms about hauling her outside and taking her against the brick side of the warehouse if he had found all the second floor, private rooms taken when he’d stopped on this floor on his way downstairs earlier.
“Strip,” he ordered without preamble, tightening his jaw against the surge of possessive pleasure he experienced eyeing the cuffs he had left on her wrists and ankles. They were wide, thick and bulky. He wanted her to know she had them on, know who put them there and accept what they meant as long as she wore them. Her hands shook as she finished unbuttoning her top, her expressive eyes shifting away from his when she shrugged it and her bra off her shoulders. Holding out his hand, he took them, saying, “Now the skirt.”
Camille kept quiet, afraid if she said anything it would be the wrong thing and he’d send her away. With her palms sliding flat against her waist, she lowered the skirt, taking her panties the rest of the way down with it, conscious of the heavy feel of the cuffs. They were bulky and cumbersome around her wrists and ankles, but strangely comforting in a weird, somewhat sexual way. She assumed he would remove them when he finished with her, and she’d been both relieved and pleased he wasn’t ready to end the night just yet. She had difficulty swallowing around the lump of vulnerability stuck in her throat when she stood naked before him, but as his gaze took a slow slide down her body, hot enough to inflame her smoldering arousal, her body responded with its usual fever.
About BJ Wane
I live in the Midwest with my husband and our two dogs. I love dogs, enjoy spending time with my daughter, babysitting dogs and kids, reading and working puzzles. We have traveled extensively throughout the states, Canada and just once overseas, but I now much prefer being homebody. I worked for a while writing articles for a local magazine but soon found my interest in writing for myself peaking. My first book was strictly spanking erotica, but I slowly evolved to writing erotic spanking romance with a touch of suspense. My favorite genre to read is suspense.