“Mmhm.”
“Good girl. You’re gonna wanna use that if you ever feel uncomfortable or like you can’t go any further, just say the word. Okay.”
“Mmhm.”
“I need to hear you say it, Spitfire.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now, keep your eyes closed. If you need help, I can always cover them for you.” She gasped, and I almost wanted to do it. “Now, you must listen to my voice and do as I say. If you stop at any time, then so will I.”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft and a little breathy, already falling under the spell and seduction of the room.
“Spitfire, I want you to take one hand and trail it up your arm, very delicately. I want you to imagine it’s my hand, softly caressing your arm. My fingertips brushing against your soft skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. Now, trail your hand over your belly, the same pressure, and gently around.”
I moved closer and blew on her skin, her breath catching, and I had to hold myself back from touching her. “Now, brush your hand over your breast, Spitfire. Cup it and show me what I’m missing.”
She placed her hand in her bra and drew it down, and I groaned at the sight. “Fuck, Spitfire. You’re making it hard not to touch you.”
“Tell me,” she breathed, rolling her hand over her nipple. “Tell me how it makes you feel. I want to know.”
“Oh, do you now?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Sax.”
Groaning, I leaned in and blew on her nipple, tempting me to stick my tongue out and lick it; it was so close and perfect.
“I’ve been hard since the moment I spotted you walking in. I’ve been watching you as you explored, determined not to interfere, thinking it was better. But the moment you stepped in here and I heard his voice talk to you, I couldn’t bear the thought of another man getting to touch you with their words,” I growled.
Her breath caught, her hands stilling at my confession.
“You think about me?”
“So damn much.”
“What… what kind of things do you think about?”
“I’ll tell you, but you can’t stop touching yourself. Deal?”
“Ok-aa-yy…” she moaned.
“Imagine as if your hands are doing what mine want to do, Spitfire.”
“Mmhmm.”
“You’re such a good girl, Spitfire,” I purred as I watched her hands trailing over her body. I rubbed my palm on the outside of my pants, a groan escaping at the touch. Leaning closer, I let my breath fan over her skin as I spoke, still wanting to incorporate the sensations of the room.
“Mostly, I think about your smile, your sass, your fire,” I admitted. “But when I’m alone at night, I think about all the things I wished I’d done the night we went out. All the things I wanted to do to get your face to look like it did the night in the club.”
“What?”
“Oh yes, Spitfire. He’ll kill me for saying this, but the first time you came to Climax.”
“Yeah?” she asked, her voice breathless.
“The two men up top you chatted with in Illusion, well, I was the first one, and well… Atticus….” I trailed off.
“Was the second one?”