Second Time Around Read Online Free PDF Page A

which I bring to my lips and gulp down thirstily as he laughs.
    “Greedy girl…” He leans forward and his voice is low and gravelly. “But that’s all right. I’m feeling the need to spank you again, my love. And the need to play with you and touch your pussy and make you come.”
    As my jaw drops, he’s suddenly on his feet, and moving round to my side of the table. “Let’s go. We can always have room service later when we’ve finished.”
    The way he discreetly hustles me out of the restaurant takes my breath away, and I feel myself getting wetter and wetter and wetter as we walk to the lift. Traveling upward, he doesn’t touch me, but his eyes are on me constantly, as if monitoring my readiness. As I move restlessly, his nostrils flare as if he can smell my arousal.
    When the room door closes behind us, I don’t know what to do. Me, who’s always known what to do, and what I want. But I love the sense of uncertainty, the excitement of the unknown.
    “Kneel on the bed, Willa, facing the bed head.” His voice isn’t cold or hard or bossy, just soft and shot through with real power. I hurry to obey, not stopping to ask if I should undress or anything. Clambering onto the bed, I feel my heart thud, thud, thudding in my chest, and the beat of it echoes between my legs.
    He moves to stand beside the bed, next to me, and I feel so wound up, so agitated I can’t even look at him. I just kneel up, eyes closed, my breath already coming in ragged gasps, and I jump a mile when he takes my jacket by the lapels and peels it off me, leaving me in my blouse and skirt. With a slow gentle stroke across my shoulders he calms me, then pushes down until I’m resting on my elbows, my back dished. My bottom is pushed up, presented to him, displayed with my skirt stretched tight across it.
    “Forward, baby,” he instructs, helping me by tossing aside the mounds of pillows and edging me into position. Automatically I grab on to the brass rails and he fondles my hair approvingly. A moment later he’s fastening my wrists to the bed head with the silk sash of my kimono, which I laid across the duvet earlier.
    Involuntarily, I moan, my sex aching already, and we’ve hardly yet begun.
    “Shush, Willa, you must be quiet and good.” He speaks with gentleness, but there’s steel there, and power beneath the words.
    Reaching beneath me, he pushes up my blouse in a bunch above my breasts, then reaches into the cups of my bra to ease them out of it. They feel swollen and heavy, aggravated by their own weight now they’re freed from clothing and support. James’s fingertips brush each nipple lightly and I have to bite my lips to keep myself from crying out.
    Watching my face in profile, James sees this, and he touches my nipples again, more lingeringly this time. He takes one between his finger and thumb, delicately twisting and forcing the suppressed cry from me. Just the way he did back in the music room. He knows my vulnerabilities now, and he’s exquisitely ruthless. He pinches again and I groan, shaking my hips.
    “Would it be easier if I gagged you?”
    Would what be easier? I don’t know what “it” is. But the effort of keeping silent, of not being as “quiet and good” as he wants me to, is exhausting. I nod my head as he continues to beleaguer my nipples with little twists and squeezes.
    “Good girl. That’s a sensible choice,” he whispers in my ear, bending over me and brushing a kiss against the back of my neck. A second later, he bounds from the bed and then returns with a soft silk scarf of mine that was draped across the back of a chair. His warm fingers part my lips, then my teeth, handling me like a stockman would a prize mare, and he slips the silk into my mouth, then ties the ends at the back of my head.
    “Good…very good,” he murmurs again, then folds back the panels of my shirt and tucks them into the waistband of my shirt so that my breasts in my pushed-down bra are more exposed. “Look!” He