Now, I was sharing something with him that I'd never shared with anyone. No matter
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how intimate we'd become, this was different.
I took a deep breath, and hooked my thumbs in my waistband.
While I stepped out of my pants, tossing them aside, I couldn't look at him. I did my
best to try and forget he was even there, but it was impossible. He was a palpable presence in
the little room. I sat down in my drawing chair, spreading my legs for him and...
...touching myself. I was doing it. I was really doing it, and even through my anxiety
and distraction, the pleasure was starting to spiral out of control. He'd wound me up so tight
already. Screwing my face with concentration, I forced myself to slow down, and allowed a
glance in his direction. Maybe that would cool my ardor.
But the cold detachment I'd been expecting wasn't there. His lips were slightly parted
as he watched me, eyes even darker than before. While one of his hands kept up the act,
hanging languidly off the arm of the chair, the other was balled in a tight fist.
"Go on," he murmured. "Are you close?"
I nodded, a hot flush spreading across my face and neck.
"Why?"
I bit down on my lower lip. Hard. "Because of you," I managed, slowing to an almostglacial
pace in a desperate attempt to control myself. "It's because of you."
"Do you want to come?" he almost purred.
A desperate stab of hope went through my chest. But somehow, I knew he was just
toying with me. "Yes, Sir," I said.
"Tell me why you deserve it." His Adam's apple bobbed noticeably as he swallowed,
fist still clenched, and between his sprawled legs I could see him beginning to stiffen again. So
much for being able to focus on me. I'll have you yet, Mr. Thorne.