Page 37 of The Boss Upstairs
“What about anal play?” he asks “Are you comfortable with exploring—”
“Very,” I say playfully. This is officially the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.
His grin is impish.
“And… the restraints,” I go on, quite uncomfortable. “What are we talking about here? Ropes and stuff? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”
He smiles. “Boss Man favors scarves and ties.”
Phew.A vision of me tied up to a post and tortured like a captured spy fades slowly.
Unfortunately, another image quickly replaces it. I’m cuffed to a bed, and Weston has croaked from a heart attack and left me helpless and bound, just like inGerald’s Game, the Stephen King novel. “What about handcuffs?”
He laughs. “Only if you like.”
I shake my head. “I do not… I do not like.”
He laughs.
I fidget in my chair, not really wanting to address this stuff, but knowing I need to. “And I don’t know about the special requests. I don’t know if I feel comfortable undressing for you, or masturbating for you.”
He nods. “Fair enough. Do you want to cross those terms out?”
“Well, no… not exactly.”
“Tell you what,” he says. “You can consider it if I ever ask, and if you’re not comfortable, I’ll completely understand.”
I stare down at the agreement. “You like that kind of thing?”
He smiles. “I’m a bit of a watcher… I admit. And I love the idea of seeing your beautiful body completely bare.”
I laugh. “How do you know it’s beautiful? You haven’t really seen it yet.”
He presses a finger under his chin. “I’ve been imagining it for ages.”
“Well, I hope it measures up.”
“I’m sure it will.”
I tear my gaze away, and peruse the agreement again. I flip through it carefully. “I like the pet names… very clever.”
“I knew you would,” he says. “My little grasshopper.”
“Boss Man is very naughty,” I tease. “Very particular.”
He shrugs. “What can I say. I like what I like,” he says. “But mostly, I’m a sensualist.”
I lift a brow. “A sensualist?”
“I love to pleasure women. When I’m in a relationship, I’m highly devoted to a woman’s physical and sexual pleasure. Being a witness to their pleasure arouses me intensely. Nothing makes me harder than the sound of a woman’s orgasm.”
Damn.
“But not any woman, mind you,” he tells me. “Only women I’m infatuated with.”
I swallow hard.
He clears his throat. “Because I’ll warn you now,” he goes on, his words deliberate. “I tend to become quite obsessive when I fall for someone. And you should know that now, before you sign anything.”
What the… What exactly does he mean? I have so many questions.
