Page 113 of Easy
Two
LOUISE
I pause as we reach the bedroom door, the heat of his body almost burning me from behind. There’s no turning back—not that I want to. I just like how close he is and how he crowds my space. As his finger grazes my hip, desire rolls across my skin, and I’m brought back to the fact that I’m clad in only my underwear while he’s still fully clothed.He’s playing power games, I think.And for once, I’m in the mood to lose
‘Are you sure you won’t tell me your name?’ His hands curl around my hips, his lips finding my shoulder with a gentle kiss.
‘No.’ I whirl around to face him, bringing me into the room. ‘It’s my turn to choose—bed.’
‘You don’t want to know my name?’ he purrs, ignoring my direction. Biting the inside of my lip, I shake my head. Because that would be too easy and a little too real. I’m relieved when he doesn’t press me again.
‘Stead,’ he answers. He leans back against the doorframe, sliding both hands into his pockets. I think he’s playing it cool until I see where his gaze lies.
There, above the bed, hang a set of leather cuffs—seeing them was partly the reason I’d spun around to face him in the first place, my heart jumping with a mixture of fear and delight.
The cuffs, their leather patina seems polished to a mahogany stain. Well-used, well-worn, and obviously cared for. I try not to smile, my current aspirations being almost the same. Would he use me well? Wear me out? Meet my needs and care for me tonight? All without even knowing my name?
As his eyes remain level on the leather, I begin to wonder what he’s seeing there. Is he remembering other women wearing them? More experienced women—those who know instinctively how to play these games? The thought lingers and expands as images of my own making play through my head. This man with a redhead—a blonde. A harem of women of which I’m just one.
‘Should... I mean. Maybe...’ My words are halting and flustered, spoken to drown out the images and jealous thoughts.
As his eyes rise, I realise my mistake. He smiles, equal parts beautiful and brutal, but it’s a smile that doesn’t extend to his gaze.
‘I thought we were done,’ I almost whine.
‘Darling, you need to choose which piece you’re losing next.’
His tone is filled with desire; my skin burns where his eyes touch, and I find my stance changes immediately as my hip cocks in attitude. Outwardly pissed but inwardly thrilled, something inside me flares instantly.Rebellion.
‘From forfeits to consequences.’ He sighs quietly. ‘I do believe you’re trying to force my hand.’
I can’t restrain my smile, quite liking the sound of that. Force his hand on me. In me. Around the base of my neck. But then I realise my behaviour isn’t aiding my cause but hampering it, so trail my finger down my body between the two garments in question as though I’ve not yet decided. The natural progression would be to lose my bra. It’s what he’s probably expecting, and the opposite of what I’ll give.
I bend forward and, with a slight wiggle that’s purely for show, slide my panties from my hips.
‘Stop,’ he demands suddenly; his words clipped and concise.
I partially straighten with a questioning look. Stop the action, or does he want my response to the word?
Stop, go? Stop, clock? Stop messing about and let’s fuck?
Panties around my knees can’t be a sexy look, yet one glance at his heated expression tells me that can’t really be true. Something warm and liquid blooms deep in the pit of my belly, spreading out under my skin. Maybe this is like the cuffs—like a restraint? I widen my stance a little to hold the fabric in place, or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself—feeling awkward, embarrassed, and more than a little wet.
He pushes off from the wall, stepping so close our bodies almost touch. The moment is endless, the heat in his gaze like a brand. His hand rises almost in slow motion as one fingertip brushes my sternum.
‘Temperance,’ he murmurs.
‘Overrated,’ I rasp, leaning into his touch. We both watch as his fingers travel down my body, grazing the soft skin on my stomach down to my open thighs.
‘Restraint,’ he cautions, pulling gently on the small strip of hair between my legs.
‘Trying.’ The word hits the air between a sigh and a tremble.
‘Would that be trying for restraint or just trying tobe restrained?’ He steps around me, circling my body slowly as his hand trails my waist, and I feel the weight of his gaze. ‘Well?’
‘What?’ The word is strangled—garbled— somewhere between an actual word and a cry as, at the very same moment, he brings his hand to my ass. Hard. Fast.
His arm catches my elbow as I stumble, the sound of the impact echoing in the room. My cheeks sting like shame and the impact ricochets straight to my groin, lingering there in a gratuitous throb. I think I might whimper, moan—something.
