His tongue snakes out as if he can read my mind, and when he winks, my feet stutter on the treadmill.
I give him a little wave and vow to pay attention to what I’m doing, but after breaking eye contact with him, it’s impossible to keep my mind from the corner of the room. If I stare hard at the television on the wall, my vision adjusts and I can see just the edge of his gloved hands as he curls the bar from his waist to his chest.
Several times he catches me looking in his direction, but once I see the way his biceps flex, I can’t be bothered to be embarrassed. He doesn’t seem to mind either because his eyes are locked on me as well. He’s across the room and somehow, I still feel him on my skin.
Almost as if he’s possessed me in some way, I find it nearly impossible to look away. Once I manage, I quickly decide that it’s just too intense with him in here. Anyone that walks in will be able to feel the sexual tension between us.
I hit the stop button on the treadmill and scurry away, stopping by the first sauna room I come across because I’ve got to catch my breath before even attempting to get back on the elevator. I sit, the humid air making it difficult to breathe, deciding that maybe if I stay in here long enough, he’ll be gone by the time I get out and I can complete my jog.
Instead of leaving, he opens the door to the sauna room before closing us in together.
My mouth is hanging open, and I’m panting like a tired dog when he inches near.
“Stand up,” he commands, and I’m on my feet immediately.
Exactly like last night, his fingers tangle in my hair, palm resting on the back of my neck and he just looks down, watching my responses to him. Can he see the way my eyes dilate or the way my breathing grows even more ragged? Can he see the gooseflesh forming on my arms despite the heat of the room?
My guess is yes to all of those questions. He’s well aware of what he does to me, just like there’s no way around him hiding what I do to him. The evidence of it isn’t hidden very well behind his basketball shorts.
“Wren,” I whisper when he continues to look down at me without speaking.
It’s nerve-wracking and makes me anxious.
It’s thrilling and fills me with unspoken promises.
It’s absolute perfection.
Several long moments pass before he lowers his head, inching his mouth closer to mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he nips at my bottom lip, pulling a frenzied gasp from my lungs.
My skin is on fire, sweaty and damp, and honestly, I’m wet everywhere. He makes me like this, all slick and ready. Before long he’ll be able to smell my desire because it’s going to permeate the humidity surrounding us.
From the way his eyes watch mine, I don’t think that would disappoint him much. Hell, it may be his goal.
He pulls a few inches back, and I want to move closer, but he hasn’t given me permission. The grip of my hair in his fingers is a command, and I have every intention of obeying.
“Tomorrow,” he husks out as his tongue dips to lick away the saltwater dripping down the column of my neck. “Dinner.”
I’m gasping now, ready to strip down and service him, but he doesn’t give me the order.
“I’ll message you the details.”
My skin is still tingling when he walks away. Even the cold that manages to infiltrate when he swings the door open doesn’t do a thing to cool my overheated skin.
I’m more breathless now than when I ran in here to hide. I should be freaking out. I should call Sarah and have her talk me off the ledge.
He’s exactly what I want, but at the same time he’s too much. My desires have always seemed to be too extreme. I don’t know where the guilt came from, but it’s been with me as long as I can remember. What I wanted never matched what my friends from school were experiencing, but high school boys really aren’t interested in foreplay and exploring. Get in, get out, move on. That’s what I saw happening. Even waiting until I was older and in college, I didn’t see much difference.
Sarah has told me once I need an older Dom, someone with more experience. Trying things out that I think I want with an inexperienced person isn’t a smart idea. She explained I could get hurt or they could do something wrong that would make me form wrong opinions.
So, although I want many things, although I feel these things deep in my bones, I’m close to completely inexperienced myself. I’ve done the spanking, tied up, let-me-take-care-of-you-baby sex before. It was lackluster at best. I’ve never had a serious conversation about limits, hard or soft, and because of that, my college boyfriend never took things seriously. He didn’t understand my needs. Thankfully, he was the type of guy that checked in all the time.