I’ve had quite enough. “If you’re going to avoid a spanking, you’ll call me sir or daddy from now on.”
She downs the wine like she’s in a desert dying of thirst, then places the empty glass in front of her. Wordlessly, I pour her another glass.
When she speaks, her voice is a little high and squeaky.
“Can you… repeat that one more time?”
I take a deliberately slow sip of my drink, then lean back and cross one ankle over my knee.
“Of course. I said from now on, you’ll call me sir or daddy.”
“There was another part to that.”
“Ah, yes. That is, if you’d like to avoid a spanking.”
I could get lost in the endless blue of her eyes, staring at me with a mixture of apprehension and arousal. I lean closer to her and place one of my hands on her knee. Just a gentle touch. I left a small window behind us open, and a little wisp of her hair flutters when a breeze rustles through.
“Unless that’s what you want, Miranda?”
“I… I have no idea what I want, sir,” she says, in that throaty voice that makes me hard. I swallow, then squeeze her leg.
“First, we talk about the terms of our arrangement.”
Her bold look disappears, and she suddenly resembles a little girl. Afraid?
“So, you don’t want another woman for the evening?”
She winces, and I realize I’m gripping her knee harder, as if intuitively reminding her she must stay.
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “I want you.”
“But you weren’t impressed when I… told you I was a virgin.”
I shake my head. “You misunderstood. I was just surprised is all, not displeased. So, you’ve never had any sex?”
She shakes her head from side to side. “No, sir. I’ve coached my girls, of course. I run a successful business, but I have had to rely on heavy... research.”
According to my research, she hasn’t dated in years. And now that I go over the mental tally of all the very many things I know about her, I have no record of her ever taking on a client. She never mixes business with pleasure. She runs a tight ship, and she makes everyone follow strict, ironclad rules.
Including herself.
I can’t believe I know everything about her, from her history, her alma mater, her family tree, and her blood type. I know what she’s done for work, what her favorite hobbies are, and that she’s got a particular quirk about wearing pink when she works out.
How could I have missed the fact that she’s a virgin? I suppose it isn’t something someone puts down in a record book, but still.
Still.
I feel as if I don’t know her at all.
“Why, Miranda?”
“Why what?”
“Why have you never had sex?”
She looks away. “I suppose it’s cliché, but I… well, I just never met the right guy.”
The need to possess her flares in me so hot and fast, I have to school my reaction. I don’t speak. I’m not sure what I’d say if I could. But the next moment, I’ve got her pinned beneath me on the sofa, the sweet, soft, supple skin of her wrists pressed against my fingers as I hold her arms by her side and kiss her.
I kiss her hard, marking her, so hard she’ll remember me when her lips are bruised in the morning. I slide my tongue against hers, sending a frisson of awareness right through me. When she moans, I get hard.
I press her more firmly onto the sofa, sliding my hand up the length of her dress until I palm her breast straight through the satin fabric. She whimpers when I drag my thumb over her clothed but hardened nipple, until she’s moaning with need and the scent of her arousal fills my senses. For a virgin, she’s so fucking responsive. Hell, maybe it’s because she is a virgin.
I’ll be her first everything.
I kiss her until she arches her back. I glide my hand from her breast, down the length of her body, until I reach the hem of her skirt. Gently, so gently she trembles in anticipation, I slide my hand up her thighs. I moan into her mouth at the feel of her soft, warm, supple skin. She parts her legs, and I drag my finger to the apex of her thighs, and I groan when I find she’s not wearing any panties.
“You didn’t wear panties,” I scold.
She shakes her head, seemingly unable to speak. She’s boneless beneath me, speechless as I stroke my fingers through her soaked pussy.
“I never do,” she whispers.
I shake my head and cluck my tongue. “Naughty little girl. I’ll have to spank you for that. Someone ought to feel my palm good and hard for being so naughty.”
“Is that a rule? The no panties thing?”
She gives me a look that dares me to take this to where we both know we’re going.