JAMES
THIRTY-SEVEN
Who said men are visual learners? They haven’t met a woman describing in detail what she wants most.
This is a bad idea. Correction—it’s the worst. But I have to know what she fantasizes about, if it’s something I can provide.
I shouldn’t entertain thoughts of fulfilling desires when it comes to Stephanie King, but I can’t stop this train.
The words are already out of my mouth, splicing the air between us.
Her eyes drop to my lips before rising to meet my own. I lower my defenses so she can see for herself that I don’t think of her as any of those things. Dirty, ruined, shameful.
Do I want to do dirty shit to her? Yes.
Do I want her ruined? Absolutely, but I want to be ruined beside her in the best ways.
As for the shame? People can shove that shit up their ass. It’s nothing to do with them. If it’s legal and consensual, that’s all that matters.
“Show you what?” she whispers.
“Don’t play coy now, sweetheart.”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she blows out a long breath. “Where and on what?”
Good question. “My office.”
“On those big screens?” she squeaks.
That might be a little overwhelming for her. “Laptop on the sofa?” I suggest.
The bedroom feels dangerous. But too late, I realize this option will mean we need to be close.
I wait for her to make a decision. If she retreats to her bedroom, then I’ll know she doesn’t really want those things, and that distance is for the best. But if she trusts me with every wicked thought, then I can show her what’s possible in the hands of a man who cares about her first and himself second.
“Okay.”
She rises, and I lean back before following her into the lodge, the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, a shield against more than cold.
She glances over her shoulder. I’m right here with you.
No need to wonder, because wild horses couldn’t drag me away.
I’ve never watched online porn with a partner.
I have, however, witnessed acts in the club, enough to know I enjoy watching others getting off over what’s happening in the room.
I’ve learned from masters the best way to showcase pain with minimal injury, enough to satisfy the likes of Jonathan and Christopher.
But I’ve also been taught how a woman’s body responds, when to push, and when to pull back.
I found workarounds, tricks, and lies to minimize the hurt and pain I was expected to inflict.
It’s not an excuse. I still deserve everything that’s coming my way.
But maybe I can help Stephanie find her confidence to ask for what she needs, to normalize some of the things she wants.
I convince myself as we enter the lodge that she’s going to show me clips of lovemaking, maybe a little light spanking while she’s on her hands and knees. Nothing too out there. Nothing that would replay in my mind on repeat.
Oh, sweet ignorance is a powerful thing.
She drops onto the middle of the sofa as I collect my laptop and place it on her knees before sitting next to her, our thighs pressed together.
She glances at me, and I nod at the screen. “Show me, sweetheart. If you were alone right now, needy, hot, and wanting a release, what would you look for?”
She licks her lips. “Depends on my mood and how much time I have.”
Interesting. “Naughty, and all night.”
She flicks her gaze up. Understanding her hesitation, I stand and turn off the lights, leaving only the glow of the laptop. When I sit back down, her hands are poised over the keys.
I lean into her ear. “What are you afraid of?”
“Judgment.”
I understand that. “What if I can’t see or hear?”
“I’m confused.”
“I can just read your reactions from your body.”
“That...” She sucks in a breath as I nip her ear. “Okay, let’s do that.”
“Drop the blanket,” I demand. She pushes it off her shoulders. She’s still in my shirt. Fuck. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. I pinky promise.”
“If you open your eyes, I get to paint your nails.”
I smirk. “Deal.” If it involves her hands on me, I’m pretty sure I’m the winner.
She nods, and I comply and close my eyes as my hand slides up the shirt to rest against her smooth stomach. I lean my chin on her shoulder, letting my breath breeze over her neck, and goosebumps erupt everywhere.
“So exquisitely sensitive, sweetheart, just from the thought of what you’ll watch first.”
I hear the tap of the keys, and as desperate as I am to see what she’s looking for, it’s imperative that I keep my promise. Trust is fragile and so hard to build, yet so easy to destroy.
“Don’t forget to mute it,” I remind her.
She does, and I feel her stomach tense beneath my fingers as whatever she’s searched for plays. A few more clicks sound from the mouse pad, like she’s trying to find something that interests her. I wonder if it’s a clip she’s seen before or if she’s looking for something new.
“Take your time,” I murmur, kissing the side of her neck. She shivers, and then there’s no more tapping. She’s locked into whatever is going on. “You found something?”
“Yes.” Her voice is breathy.
“Put the laptop on the table.”
She bends and does as I ask. No escape now. No shutting it down if she chickens out about getting a little freaky.
“Tell me what she’s doing,” I coax.
“She’s on her knees,” she whispers.
I graze my teeth over her skittering pulse and remove my hand from her stomach to start undoing the buttons on the stolen shirt. I give her every opportunity to say no, to tell me to stop. She doesn’t, but her heart pounds like hoofbeats.
My fingers trail down the valley of her breasts. No bra. Just smooth, heated flesh that I can’t stop touching. “Now what’s happening?”
“He’s wrapped his belt around her throat.”
My cock fills with blood as I lightly pinch her nipple. She arches her spine and moans.
“Is that something you want?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation, no doubt. She’s a woman who has thought about this for many nights. She’s examined every facet of the fantasy to see if it’s something that’s best left on screen or if it's something she wants brought to life. Her head tilts, giving me more access to her throat.
“Now he’s tightening it with one hand,” she whispers. No more prompts needed from me. “And hooking his fingers inside her mouth to force it open.”
Her legs tense. I grab her thigh and pull her legs apart by shoving my knee between hers. “James, please.”
I chuckle. “No relief for you until I say so.”
“And when will that be?”
“When you beg.”
“You’re impossible.”
She grabs my hand and shifts it higher to sit around her throat.
“Ask for what you want,” I demand.
She swallows. “You know.”
“There can’t be any guesswork where this is concerned. I’ll give it to you without question, but you have to ask for it.”
“I want your hand to mimic the belt. Or better yet, take off your own.”
Her hands fumble at my waist, her decision already made. She releases the buckle and slips it free from the loops.
“Put it around your neck, sweetheart, and tell me what’s happening on screen.”
She shifts, following my instructions to the letter. The length rests against my forearm in invitation.
“He’s stroking himself and rubbing the tip across her lips.”
“The tip of what?”
I check the belt isn’t too tight around her neck, then wrap the length in my fist, holding it against the back of the sofa. This way, she’s in control of how much she wants to feel and when it happens."
Breath play isn’t about stealing someone’s ability to breathe; it’s coaxing their pleasure higher, the danger and oxygen levels coming together to make an intoxicating mix.
“Answer me,” I demand, pinching her nipple harder. She groans, low and throaty.
Fuck, it’s taking everything I have not to open my eyes, but this is about trust.
“His cock. He’s pushing it inside her mouth now, and fuck...”
I snatch her hand from between her legs and cup her pussy. The satin of her panties is drenched again, but I resist giving her any pressure or friction.
“Keep describing it,” I urge as I rub myself against her outer thigh, leaving no question as to how I feel about this. She sucks in a breath.
“He hasn’t given her time to get used to his length. It’s all the way in, so deep her throat bulges with each stroke.”
“Fast or slow?”
“Slow. He’s pausing each time he’s buried inside.”
“How would you want it?”
“You,” she murmurs. “I’d want you. Slow like this, but with my hands bound.”
“Have you watched any videos where she’s wearing a ring gag?”
“Yes.”
Images of her on her knees, exactly as she’s describing, assault my mind.
“And? Is that something you’d want?”
“I’m not sure. I think yes.”
How is she this perfect for me? It’s something I should be running from, because she is going to ruin me.
“She’s choking a little.”
I kiss along her jaw and press the heel of my palm against her clit.
“Her eyes are watering, but she’s restless on her knees, and now she’s touching herself like she can’t help it.”
“How could you do that if your hands are bound?”
Her head snaps around, and her lips press against mine. My eyes fly open in surprise and meet her victorious ones. I push her panties to the side and plunge two fingers inside her channel. She’s so fucking wet I can hear it. I love it.
She pushes toward me, causing the belt to tighten.
Fuck. I’m going to need the world’s coldest shower.
Her hands are in my hair, tugging, demanding, pleading for me to push her over.
When the first ripples of her impending orgasm clench around my fingers, I withdraw them, and she whimpers into my mouth.
I pull away and slide my fingers, coated with her juices, into her mouth. Her tongue slips around them, and her eyes, hazy with pleasure, flick to the laptop. I’ve kept my promise not to look at the screen, but I’m powerless to drag myself away from her eyes.
“You are so fucking sexy,” I murmur as I go back to teasing her entrance with small circles, never slipping more than the tip of my fingers inside her. “What’s happening now?”
She sucks in a breath. Stephanie on the edge is going to play on repeat in my mind for the rest of my short life.
“He’s picked her up, flipped her onto her hands and knees, and is playing with her ass.”
“With his fingers or his cock?”
“Fingers. Shit, he’s just thrust into her.”
“Belt on or off?”
“On. He’s got one hand on the base of her spine to keep her in place and the other keeping tension on the belt.”
“Do you see yourself doing that?”
“With someone I trust? Yes.” She focuses on me. “With you, absolutely.” Her eyes flutter closed.
“Are your hands still bound in this position?” I check.
“Absolutely. I want to give you complete control.”
And I need to teach her that giving complete control means that you are the one in control, always, and if she’s with someone who tries to tell her otherwise, they are the wrong partner. It’s so easy to fall in with someone who takes advantage and twists this kind of desire.
Her spine arches, and she squirms to try to get me to sink deeper. My cock throbs, and precum leaks from the end. Coming in my pants is going to be a first for me.
“Please,” she whispers, staring straight into my eyes. “Please make me come.”
My lips press against hers, our tongues sweeping together, and then I give her everything she needs, pushing three fingers inside in a fast rhythm. She groans low and falls apart on my fingers while I explode in my pants like a teenager.
My vision blacks out for a moment. Fuck, that’s the hardest I’ve ever come in my life. Just imagine what it would be like inside her…
Nope. Don’t do it to yourself. You can’t have her.
Her body melts beneath my hands, and she sighs into my mouth as we both settle down.
She pulls back and grins. “Now I have just one question.”
I arch a brow. “Which is?”
“What color do you want?”
What? I tilt my head, my sex-crazed brain not catching up.
“You opened your eyes,” she explains. “And now I get to paint your nails.”
And that is the story of how I ended up at the mercy of a woman with sparkly purple nail polish.