Submit to Desire
Page 7
“Oui,” Charlotte agreed. She truly couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt anything so erotic. The expertise of his technique, the pressure, the movements were beyond pleasurable, but far more so was the power of the man who held her pressed to the door and refused to let her go even as she said “no” and “stop” and “don’t.”
“Let us say you really did want me to stop, but I love that word, love your protests, far too much to heed it. And we both know when you say ‘stop’ you don’t really mean it. Not with me. So you should have a word that truly means stop and to that alone will I listen. That is your safe word. Do you understand?”
“I think so.” Charlotte grasped his left forearm and held onto him as she felt her climax building. Hung over…scared…in a stranger’s house…and yet she could scarcely breathe for her desire. “So what’s my safe word?”
The muscles deep inside her tightened around Kingsley’s hand. She felt a rush of wetness between her thighs.
“As you are my little red-headed fire-breather, your safe word should be ‘dragon.’ You must say it whenever you truly wish me to stop whatever I’m doing. No other word, no amount of struggling will do it.”
Charlotte’s breathing turned hard and heavy as Kingsley’s hand moved faster and deeper into her. His thumb massaged her clitoris. Never before had she been with a man who knew how to manipulate a woman’s body so well.
With his lips Kingsley traced a path from Charlotte’s ear to her shoulder. Charlotte dug her fingernails into the fabric of his jacket.
“So if you truly wish me to stop what I’m doing, Charlie, you will say…?”
“Dragon.”
Kingsley pulled his hand abruptly out of her body and took a step back. Charlotte nearly collapsed from the sudden shock of his departure as her vaginal muscles fluttered in protest.
“C’est ça,” Kingsley said. “It’s like magic.”
Kingsley stepped forward, took her hand and kissed the back of it.
“Get settled in,” he said. “I’m off to work now. No rest for the wicked.”
Kingsley pulled her away from the door, opened it and strolled into the hall whistling a song she thought might have been the French national anthem.
Charlie closed her eyes and imagined fire shooting out of her mouth and burning Kingsley to the ground. She must have actually audibly hissed because Kingsley stopped whistling long enough to call back to her.
“Patience, Charlie. We have all month.”
* * *
Charlotte spent the rest of the afternoon in the bedroom Kingsley had assigned to her, a bedroom nearly as luxurious as his own. His secretary came in and gathered information from her—emergency contacts, food preferences, even allergies.
“Allergies?” Charlotte had asked.
“Yes. Latex, for example?” Kingsley secretary answered with hardly a blink or a blush.
“Oh, God.”
An hour after returning from her apartment with a month’s worth of clothes and supplies, Charlotte tried to get some sleep but her mind wanted to wander down far too many dangerous paths. Kingsley Edge… The one and only Kingsley Edge. She finally worked up the courage to call her younger brother and let him know a little of what was going on.
Simon sighed heavily, so heavily Charlotte nearly laughed aloud.
“You sure about this, Char?” Simon asked.
“I like him.”
“Do you like him because he rich and infamous or because you actually like him?”
Charlotte thought about the question, a perfectly valid one, for a few seconds before answering.
“Yes.”
After getting Simon’s blessing, or at least his promise to not call the police, Charlotte hung up and stared around the room still not quite believing she’d be spending the next month here. What would Kingsley do with her during her stay? Part of her was terrified at the prospect. Another much bigger part of her couldn’t wait to find out.
Charlotte started as an envelope slipped in under her door. She picked it up and found a hand-written invitation.
Charlie—Present yourself at my bedroom door this evening at nine o’clock. Wear your finest. We shall attend a piano recital in the Music Room. Do not be late. The consequences will be both severe and enjoyable if you are.
Charlotte corrected herself. Invitation? No, this was a summons. And although she knew she should bristle at the order to present herself on time or be punished, she almost wanted to be late simply to force Kingsley to make good on his threat.
For a solid hour, Charlotte stood before the bathroom mirror primping for the recital. She did her makeup quickly and spent the rest of the time curling her waist-length hair into thick red waves. The fanciest dress she had was a little black number. Hopefully the effect of her hair would distract Kingsley from the simplicity of the dress.
At nine on the dot, Charlotte stood outside Kingsley’s bedroom door waiting impatiently. She still barely knew the man. The more time that passed from their one long conversation this morning, the more she questioned her decision to stay with him for the month. This was crazy, right? Spending a month with a stranger? No one in her right mind would have agreed to his offer. Why was she doing this?
Kingsley opened the door.
Okay, that was why.
“Wow,” she said when all other words failed her.
He wore a black suit with silver buttons on the black-and-silver embroidered vest. His riding boots had been polished to a near-reflective shine and had she looked down she would have seen her wide-eyed face staring back at her.
“Let us say you really did want me to stop, but I love that word, love your protests, far too much to heed it. And we both know when you say ‘stop’ you don’t really mean it. Not with me. So you should have a word that truly means stop and to that alone will I listen. That is your safe word. Do you understand?”
“I think so.” Charlotte grasped his left forearm and held onto him as she felt her climax building. Hung over…scared…in a stranger’s house…and yet she could scarcely breathe for her desire. “So what’s my safe word?”
The muscles deep inside her tightened around Kingsley’s hand. She felt a rush of wetness between her thighs.
“As you are my little red-headed fire-breather, your safe word should be ‘dragon.’ You must say it whenever you truly wish me to stop whatever I’m doing. No other word, no amount of struggling will do it.”
Charlotte’s breathing turned hard and heavy as Kingsley’s hand moved faster and deeper into her. His thumb massaged her clitoris. Never before had she been with a man who knew how to manipulate a woman’s body so well.
With his lips Kingsley traced a path from Charlotte’s ear to her shoulder. Charlotte dug her fingernails into the fabric of his jacket.
“So if you truly wish me to stop what I’m doing, Charlie, you will say…?”
“Dragon.”
Kingsley pulled his hand abruptly out of her body and took a step back. Charlotte nearly collapsed from the sudden shock of his departure as her vaginal muscles fluttered in protest.
“C’est ça,” Kingsley said. “It’s like magic.”
Kingsley stepped forward, took her hand and kissed the back of it.
“Get settled in,” he said. “I’m off to work now. No rest for the wicked.”
Kingsley pulled her away from the door, opened it and strolled into the hall whistling a song she thought might have been the French national anthem.
Charlie closed her eyes and imagined fire shooting out of her mouth and burning Kingsley to the ground. She must have actually audibly hissed because Kingsley stopped whistling long enough to call back to her.
“Patience, Charlie. We have all month.”
* * *
Charlotte spent the rest of the afternoon in the bedroom Kingsley had assigned to her, a bedroom nearly as luxurious as his own. His secretary came in and gathered information from her—emergency contacts, food preferences, even allergies.
“Allergies?” Charlotte had asked.
“Yes. Latex, for example?” Kingsley secretary answered with hardly a blink or a blush.
“Oh, God.”
An hour after returning from her apartment with a month’s worth of clothes and supplies, Charlotte tried to get some sleep but her mind wanted to wander down far too many dangerous paths. Kingsley Edge… The one and only Kingsley Edge. She finally worked up the courage to call her younger brother and let him know a little of what was going on.
Simon sighed heavily, so heavily Charlotte nearly laughed aloud.
“You sure about this, Char?” Simon asked.
“I like him.”
“Do you like him because he rich and infamous or because you actually like him?”
Charlotte thought about the question, a perfectly valid one, for a few seconds before answering.
“Yes.”
After getting Simon’s blessing, or at least his promise to not call the police, Charlotte hung up and stared around the room still not quite believing she’d be spending the next month here. What would Kingsley do with her during her stay? Part of her was terrified at the prospect. Another much bigger part of her couldn’t wait to find out.
Charlotte started as an envelope slipped in under her door. She picked it up and found a hand-written invitation.
Charlie—Present yourself at my bedroom door this evening at nine o’clock. Wear your finest. We shall attend a piano recital in the Music Room. Do not be late. The consequences will be both severe and enjoyable if you are.
Charlotte corrected herself. Invitation? No, this was a summons. And although she knew she should bristle at the order to present herself on time or be punished, she almost wanted to be late simply to force Kingsley to make good on his threat.
For a solid hour, Charlotte stood before the bathroom mirror primping for the recital. She did her makeup quickly and spent the rest of the time curling her waist-length hair into thick red waves. The fanciest dress she had was a little black number. Hopefully the effect of her hair would distract Kingsley from the simplicity of the dress.
At nine on the dot, Charlotte stood outside Kingsley’s bedroom door waiting impatiently. She still barely knew the man. The more time that passed from their one long conversation this morning, the more she questioned her decision to stay with him for the month. This was crazy, right? Spending a month with a stranger? No one in her right mind would have agreed to his offer. Why was she doing this?
Kingsley opened the door.
Okay, that was why.
“Wow,” she said when all other words failed her.
He wore a black suit with silver buttons on the black-and-silver embroidered vest. His riding boots had been polished to a near-reflective shine and had she looked down she would have seen her wide-eyed face staring back at her.
