Forbidden Feast: A Blakely After Dark Novella (The Forbidden Series Book 2) by Kira Blakely

Author:Kira Blakely [Blakely, Kira]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AG Media, LLC
Published: 2017-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Rainier

When she calls me Mr. Howell, a little part of my heart grows and then breaks. Have we discovered something here?

Don’t get ahead of yourself, man. She’s your assistant. How many of them have had crushes on you? Probably all of them.

But how many have haunted me? Just one.

I gaze down at her wonderingly. I’ve never seen Ella without her glasses on. I’ve never seen her with her hair down. I’ve never seen her buxom body completely uncased from all its accoutrements. She’s like a new woman. When she’s not at work... she is a bombshell.

But she’s a professional in the office. Top of the line.

“It’s ironic, you know,” I murmur, leaning my head down onto her crown. I inhale her citrus perfume and sweet, oaky natural scent. “I came here to get over you... and you ended up under me.”

Her limpid hazel eyes flash up to me. “Don’t get over me,” she pleads softly. “I didn’t even know you were under me.”

I nod and smooth my hands down her curvaceous, muscled back. “I didn’t know it either,” I admit. “I’ve been fighting it as hard as I can.”

“Why?”

I hook my fingers into the elastic of her lounge pants and peel them down. She steps out of them and I rise, scooping her arms up. I peel her top off in one deft motion and then use it to blindfold her eyes. I grab up the pants and usher her backward toward the bed.

“I misjudged you,” I tell her. She stumbles backward with my movements, until her knees are against the bed and she collapses backward. I slide her up to the headboard and secure her wrists with the lounge pants. I tie it as tight as lightweight linen can go. She can’t move her arms now... and soon, she won’t be able to move her legs. “I thought you couldn’t give me what I want. That no woman could.” I bind her ankles in the sheets and secure them to the bottom of the bedpost. Now she’s stretched in quarters and blindfolded by a tube top. Fully nude and perfect.

“You surprised me,” I murmur, undressing and climbing onto the bed. I crawl over her body, splayed out in wait for me. “You’re perfect.” I look over her, wondering why she’s being so quiet, and then say, “You can speak.”

She bites down on her lower lip and volunteers, “I want to touch you right now,” in a soft, sweet voice.

My cock inflates at her need, but I harden against it. Sex isn’t only about gratification. It’s also about resistance. It’s a game with peaks and valleys. “No,” I tell her, leaning down to tease my lips over hers as I speak. “You may not.”

She arches up to take a kiss without permission and I wrap my hand easily around her fragile neck, pressing her back. I throb at how complete and utter my control is, knowing that I wield her safely, knowing that she’s loving every minute of it.

“Bad

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