He walks forward until his lips are hovering over mine. He looks me in the eyes one more time, challenging me to stop this, giving me one last chance before I completely relinquish all my control to him. It’s just a second, but it feels like forever while I wait for him to kiss me.
He doesn’t wait for words this time. He just kisses me. I can’t breathe, and I’m not sure I want to ever again because all I want to feel is his tongue on mine, pushing further into my mouth, claiming every inch of my mouth as his.
I never thought a kiss could tell me so much, but his kisses tell me everything he’s feeling. How his lips press firmly against mine and how his tongue pushes inside me—it shows me how much he wants to fuck me. His hands holding firm on my neck and my ass show me how much control he has over me.
He lets go of me, breaking the kiss, and then says, “Breathe, Olive.”
I do, but I don’t take a deep enough breath before his lips cover mine again, making me forget all about the fact that I’m not getting enough oxygen. He pushes the kiss right to my limit, knowing full well that I won’t breathe again until his lips leave mine—not because I can’t, but because I’m completely under his spell.
His lips leave mine, and then again, he says, “Breathe.”
I do but only because he said so. It’s no longer an automatic response for me. I’m too consumed by his kisses to even do something as simple as breathing.
He laughs. “This is going to be far too enjoyable for me, Olive.”
He takes a step back and then another, leaving me feeling empty and alone even though he’s only a few feet from me. He takes a seat in a chair in the corner. I walk forward, assuming he wants me in his lap, kissing him further.
“Stop.”
I do—not because I want to, but because I can’t help but give in to him when he says words in his sexy voice. I can’t think straight enough to come up with a coherent argument for me to keep moving.
“Undress for me.”
That seems to break the spell. Because, as much as I want to have sex with him, the thought of having to undress in front of him while he inspects every inch of my body terrifies me. He’s built like a Greek god. I can see that without him ever removing an ounce of clothing. While I’m skinny, I’m an assistant who spends far more time at work than I do in a gym. I like cooking and baking and eating far too much to slowly undress in front of him.
“Why don’t you remove my clothes? It will be far more enjoyable for you to rip them off my body,” I say. I’m hoping that, if he has his hands on me, he won’t be able to get a good look at my body and imperfections.
Sean frowns. “You gave up control, remember? Now, strip slowly for me, or you won’t get what you want. And, trust me, you want what I’m going to give you, Olive. Because I guarantee you, no man has made you come like I’m going to. But, first, you have to pay the price.”
I don’t know how he does it, but his voice makes me change my mind. It makes me want what he promises. So, I move my hands to the buttons on my shirt, and I pop open the first one and then another and another until the shirt hangs open on my body. When I’m finished, I look up at Sean, who is waiting patiently for me to take off my shirt.
“Take off your shirt.”
I meet his gaze as I slowly slip off my shirt. I let the shirt fall to the floor and show the first level of imperfections that grace my body—the large birthmark on half of my stomach and the large scar on the other half where my gallbladder was removed. He sees the weight that I’m still carrying from Christmas when I ate a few too many chocolates and drank a little too much wine to deal with my family.
It’s just the first layer. Soon, when I remove my bra, he will see that I wear a push-up bra to make my boobs look bigger. When I remove the skirt, he’ll see the cellulite and stretch marks that cover my ass, something