Chapter 55
Gen
Anton looms over me, smiling with satisfaction.
He’s still in his white polo shirt and aqua-coloured swim shorts, but he has me fully naked.
He also has me spreadeagled and tied to the railings on the prow of his beautiful boat. I’m lying on a smooth cream mattress that fills the entire prow, and Captain Kinky here has performed some kind of rope trickery on me that’s impressive and arousing and alarming in equal measure.
My wrists and ankles are completely secured to the railings, and I’m strung up like a fucking starfish.
Thanks to the white canopy over us, I’m shaded from the sun, but that hasn’t stopped my captor from lovingly massaging suncream into every inch of my skin.
Now he surveys his handiwork—and his captive—with pride.
‘Happy with yourself?’ I ask.
He grins, bending to run a hand up my thigh. ‘Extremely.’
‘And here I was thinking we’d enjoy a nice picnic and a gentle swim.’
‘Time for all of that when I’ve got what I need from you,’ he tells me.
‘And what’s that?’ I ask, although I know. Because I now have clarity on several fronts.
Anton can drive a huge boat perfectly.
He can tie a rope like he’s spent a decade in the navy.
And he won’t be happy until he has full control over not only my body but every recess of my mind.
Especially the darkest ones.
My little allusion to my fantasies at dinner last night definitely poked the bear.
I refused to give him more than a high-level summary of what it was about the idea of being his sexy, willing secretary that did it for me.
Because, come on. I want him to see me as his equal.
So when I have all these gross but delicious fantasies about serving him, I actually offend myself.
Plus, it would make him insufferable if he knew the full details.
So I’ve held off from providing any more colour, but I should have known he’d be relentless. Like a fucking dog trying to unearth a buried bone.
Unfortunately, it seems like he now has the upper hand.
‘I want to know what your ultimate fantasy is,’ he tells me now. ‘We’ve come a long way, sweetheart, but you’re still not letting me in.’
I twist my mouth as I gaze up at him. He’s so beautiful. So arresting. So fucking huge and dominating and sexy. He’s everything I could possibly want in a man, all wrapped up in one gorgeous package. And, for some reason, he seems as transfixed by me as I am by him.
And he’s right. I’m still not letting him all the way in, because every survival instinct in my body is shouting at me to have some sense of fucking self-preservation.
‘You take my breath away,’ he whispers. His knuckles brush up and down my thigh.
‘And I know you think it’s all happening quickly, that I’m pushing you.
But that’s only because we’re so fucking similar, sweetheart, underneath it all.
And you know I’m greedy. I don’t just want what you’ve already given me.
I want that part of you that you seem to think you have to keep hidden beneath all those layers of decorum. ’
My lips part at his words, because, impossibly, I fear and desire giving him that very part of me in equal measure.
‘I want you to let me in,’ he says. ‘I’ve seen flashes of it, mostly at the hands of people who aren’t me, which really fucking hurts.
But I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide any part of yourself.
I want you to embrace it, because you already know that if you share it with me I’ll lap it up. You know we have the same tastes, Gen.’
‘I know,’ I whisper, because I do. And I know how desperately Anton adores that wanton side of me, where I’m so crazed with desire that I’ll let him tear me apart.
I also know that I’ve shown him flashes, but I haven’t let him in properly.
His demeanour changes. ‘Well, that was my little speech,’ he says, shifting, ‘but if you won’t do this the easy way, we can do it the hard way.’
The way he looks down my spreadeagled body makes me shiver. ‘Meaning?’ I manage.
He grins. ‘Meaning I’ll touch you until I get you to that point where you’re so fucking desperate for relief you’ll do anything for an orgasm. Including telling me every darkest desire you have.’
I grin back. We both know I’m a foregone conclusion. We both know that the beautiful, predatory Anton Wolff will get everything he wants from me, and then some.
And we both know we’ll have some fun along the way.
He kneels on the mattress and braces himself over me, and I’m flooded with a sensation that’s somewhere between happiness and anticipation. It’s the knowledge that this is a sure thing. That whatever paces Anton puts me through, however hard he works me, we both ardently want the same outcome.
And we’ll get it.
I sigh and stretch as fully as I can in my restraints, which aren’t too tight but don’t give me much room to manoeuvre.
He lowers himself down onto his elbows and kisses my jaw. My neck. I wish so much that my hands were free to rake through his gorgeous thick hair.
‘Tell me a story,’ he whispers seductively. ‘In your erotic dreamland, when you’re touching yourself at night, who are you?’ He kisses down my neck. ‘Who do you fantasise about, and what do you let them do to you?’
I swallow. My imagination is a lush garden, but I don’t love putting its fruits into words. I don’t enjoy articulating them aloud. ‘Usually variations on a theme,’ I tell him. ‘Or themes.’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ He moves down my body and takes a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue over it like it’s a little sweet. ‘What’re the common themes?’ he asks against my skin.
I consider how to summarise. ‘Being outnumbered. Dominated. Used, mainly. Like I’m a plaything.’
‘Very good.’ He moves to my other nipple and bites it lightly. The sensation echoes right through my core. ‘And what’s the scene, usually?’
‘I dunno.’ It’s hard to keep a clear head when Anton has my pussy spread open for him and his delicious, dangerous mouth on my nipple.
He stops. ‘Try.’
I exhale in frustration. ‘I’m usually… subservient. Like, they’re more powerful than me. I’m a maid, or a bartender, or a server. Or a secretary.’ I stop and screw up my face, squeezing my eyes shut. When I open them, he’s reared up so he can stare down at me.
‘That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re a smart, successful woman. You bear a lot of responsibility. It’s completely normal to want to hand all your power over—I’d go so far as to say it’s the oldest dynamic in the book.’
‘I know,’ I say. ‘I just feel… guilty. It’s not very emancipated of me.’
‘Fuck emancipation. If you want to be a fucking virgin who the Vikings kidnap and ravage, do it. You know this is normal. You don’t need me to tell you.’
‘You’re right,’ I admit. ‘I just—it would be a lot easier to do this if I was drunk and in a darkened room, not out here in the middle of the day.’
He grins. ‘You feel exposed, don’t you?’
‘Yep.’ I pop the p, because that’s an understatement.
‘Good. Keep going.’ He lowers himself back to my nipple, mouth hovering right there.
This man will be the death of me. ‘Fine. Let’s see.’
‘You can do it,’ he says. ‘Tell me something really good, and I’ll touch your cunt.’