Chapter 18 Prepare Yourself
Sienna
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as Sev reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.
“Now,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous register. “Into that room. Prepare yourself and wait for my arrival. Show me you can be a good girl.”
A soft moan caught in my throat at the command. Hearing him say that, hearing the possessive edge in his voice, sent a surge of pure, illicit pleasure through me that I couldn't even pretend to fight.
I didn't just nod; I stared him down as I snatched the key from his hand, my fingers lingering against his skin.
He stepped back, finally giving me enough space to slide off the desk. I hopped down and smoothed the fabric of my dress over my hips, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I didn't say a word as I walked out, but I could feel his eyes burning holes in my back. I headed straight for the North Wing, let myself into the room, and sat on the edge of the bed, my mind racing.
Prepare yourself.
Maybe… maybe he meant it literally.
A fresh wave of heat flooded my face, but it was chased by a bolder, darker current. He’d told me to get ready. Was I supposed to… take the edge off? To be ready for him?
The thought was scandalous, thrilling.
My hands went to the tie at the back of my dress. My fingers, clumsy with nervous energy, fumbled with the knot.
Finally, it loosened. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I pushed the fabric down over my shoulders. The dress slid down my torso, pooling at my waist.
The cooler air of the room kissed my bare skin, making my nipples peak into tight, sensitive buds.
I wasn’t wearing a bra.
Now, my breasts were fully exposed and the empty room. I cupped them, my own touch feeling foreign and electric. My thumbs brushed over the stiff peaks, and a sharp gasp tore from my lips.
Emboldened by the memory of him, by the command, I let one hand trail down from my breast, over my trembling stomach, to the waistband of my underwear.
I hooked my fingers into the lace and, in a single movement, pushed them down my legs and kicked them off.
I leaned back on my elbows on the bed, my legs falling open slightly. My right hand returned to my breast, pinching and rolling a nipple, sending sparks shooting through my body. My left hand drifted lower, until my fingertips found the slick, swollen flesh beneath.
A broken sigh escaped me at the first touch. I was already so wet. I circled my clit, slowly at first, then with more pressure, my hips giving an involuntary jerk against my own hand. My eyes drifted shut.
In my mind, it wasn’t my touch. It was his. It was his calloused, commanding hands on my body. I thought of his mouth on my breast, his teeth grazing my skin.
My breathing grew ragged. One finger, slick with my own arousal, pressed at my entrance. I hesitated for a second, then pushed inside. A low moan vibrated in my throat. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t him.
I added a second finger, curling them inward, seeking that spot that made my vision blur. My other hand twisted and pulled at my nipple, the twin sensations building a desperate, climbing pressure.
I was so lost in the rhythm, in the filthy, beautiful fantasy playing behind my closed eyelids, that I didn’t hear the door open. I didn’t sense his presence until a shift in the air, a sudden, chilling awareness, made my eyes fly open.
He was there.
Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He’d been watching. For how long? His expression was utterly inscrutable. Dark, intense, but unreadable.
His golden eyes were fixed on me, on my hand moving between my legs, on my bare breasts. He looked at me like I was a specimen. A performer. A porn actress putting on a show just for him.
Shame, hot and immediate, tried to flood me. I should stop. I should cover myself. But a deeper, more primal part held me frozen.
His gaze bored into me. It didn’t feel judgmental. It felt… hungry. Consuming. It fueled the fire instead of quenching it. A reckless, defiant energy surged through my veins.
Holding his stare, my eyes glazed with need, I added a third finger. The stretch was intense, a delicious burn.
I pumped them deeper, faster, the wet, obscene sounds of my own arousal filling the quiet room. My back arched off the bed, my free hand still working my breast roughly.
“Sev!” The name tore from my throat, not a whisper, but a desperate scream. It was a plea, a curse, a surrender.
The world dissolved into a blinding, white-hot release. My body convulsed, back bowing off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed through me, milking my fingers, making my thighs shake violently. A long, broken cry was ripped from my lungs as I came apart under his watchful, silent eyes.
“How naughty,” he murmured.
I bit my lip. “Are you going to… tie me up?” I challenged, my voice breathy.
Sev reached me, a slow chuckle rumbling in his chest. He leaned over me, his shadow swallowing me whole as he braced his hands on either side of my hips. “Too early for that, princess.”
He didn't give me a chance to respond. His mouth found mine, but this wasn't the desperate clash from the office. This was slow, deliberate, and agonizingly thorough. As he kissed me, his hands moved with a practiced, maddening heat, expertly stripping away the remains of my dress until I was completely bare beneath him.
The cool air hit my skin for only a second before he replaced it with his own warmth. He remained fully dressed, the rough fabric of his trousers and the crisp cotton of his shirt a stark contrast against my skin. It made me feel small, exposed, and entirely at his mercy.
He moved his path downward, his lips searing a trail from my throat to the swell of my breasts. I arched off the bed, a cry escaping me as his tongue swirled over a peaking nipple. He was taking his time, worshipping every inch of me until I was a sobbing, writhing mess beneath him.
"Sev... please," I whined, my fingers tangling in his dark hair, trying to pull him closer. I didn't want the slow burn anymore. I wanted the fire.