She leaned down and removed her heels, giving him a nice flash of cleavage in the process. “What’s your deal with shoes?”
“Your shoes are part of your armor, Juliet. They make you feel powerful, like your fancy hair and your fancy clothes.”
“Shoes are just shoes. I need footwear to go outside. They’re not about power.”
“Everything is about power. How does wearing your hair down because you know I prefer it that way make you feel?”
“Uh.” Her gaze darted away then back to him, but to his knees, not to his face. “I guess . . . weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Like . . . turned on, but not normal turned on.”
He moved closer to her, until he was towering over her. “Explain.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, seeming to have trouble deciding which way to aim her gaze. Deciding to help the poor girl out, he grabbed her chin and made her look at him.
“It’s . . . hard to describe. The feeling of being obedient to you, even when you’re not around, is . . . bigger than just turned on.”
It didn’t escape his notice that his throbbing cock was almost level with her pretty mouth. Too bad she wasn’t really his submissive, because he really needed to take the edge off if they were going to do anything fancier than have wall sex for about three minutes.
He let his hand slide downward from her jaw. When he gently wrapped his hand around her neck, her lashes fluttered, and her gaze went dreamy. How could she have been so sheltered from kink and yet still be so responsive to his dominance? How did a girl this submissive not intuitively find a Dominant, even if not something defined or formal?
“So you’ve never had a relationship with a man who dominated you at all?”
“No,” she whispered. “I avoided men who gave off that vibe.”
That would explain it. “Why?”
“Because the feelings are complicated,” she confessed. “I didn’t want to think of myself as the kind of woman who liked being under a man’s thumb.”
“But then you tried it.”
“But then you came along.” She gave a sad half laugh. “I’ve been on three dates with perfectly nice men since I was with you, and yet I went home alone. The prospect of being intimate with a vanilla guy did nothing for me.”
“Intimate? Fuck, you’re adorable.” He let go of her chin, but kept their gazes locked. Why did it bother him that she’d gone out on dates with other men? It wasn’t like they’d agreed to see each other again, let alone be exclusive, but maybe a stupid part of him already thought of her as his. “Unbutton your blouse.”
He was almost standing on top of her, and he drank in every fumble of her fingers as she unbuttoned the crisp fabric. The sexy powder-pink bra her efforts revealed made him groan inwardly.
Trying to control himself and play it cool, he walked away from her and sat in the room’s other armchair. When he looked back at her, she was sitting uncertainly on the edge of her seat, her blouse hanging open and her fingers digging into the upholstery.
He beckoned her with his hand and she padded over to him, eyes wide.
“Take off the skirt.”
She unzipped the skirt, then slid it down her hips to pool at her ankles. Yeah, she’d come here for sex, wearing a cute matching bra-and-panty set like she was. Elegant. Understated. Nothing about this girl was in-his-face sexy, but she was without trying. Because she was here and asking to be defiled even though she presented herself as so proper to the outside world.
“Put your hand in your panties and play with your clit.”
Leaning back in the chair, he propped his ankle on his knee, trying to ease the ache in his balls while affecting an expression of boredom.
Entertain me. Impress me.
“I—”
“Did I ask you a question or give you an order, Juliet?”
A pretty blush spread over her skin, from scalp to toes. The girl’s hard nipples poked at the fabric of her bra. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, stalling, as though she was debating running away again.