“How does this feel, Princess?” the man asks as he lets one of his hands dip

between my legs and caresses the folds of my sex with surprising gentleness.

Wrapping my arms around his waist and placing my head on his broad chest,

feeling the warm dampness of his skin against my cheek, I let myself succumb to his ministrations.

At some point during our bath, probably when he first began massaging my

foot, I unconsciously decided to let myself enjoy whatever pleasure I could. The night will end all too soon, this man will leave, and I’ll be back to my nightmare existence. After everything that’s happened, I deserve to use this man to pretend my life hasn’t turned into a total nightmare.

“So wet for me,” he groans in my ear, pressing a thick finger into my wetness.

“I need you,” I hear myself whisper, tightening my hold on the man, breathing in his clean scent, and feeling the security of his strong body as I lean into him. “Please, sir.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, gently teasing me with pleasure as he circles a finger wet with my own juices firmly around my clit. My entire body begins humming faster and faster with unsatisfied need.

“Are you going to let me inside?” the man asks, slowly and unrelentingly pressing two fingers into me, making me gasp as he stretches me open, my pussy burning from the intrusion. I hear the sucking noise of my wetness as he begins moving his fingers in and out of my sex. “I want to fuck you.”

I shudder at his words; both fearful at what could happen and excited at the

prospect of the pleasure I know this man can give. If only to prove he has total control over my body.

“You wouldn’t tie me up or anything, right?” I ask, staring intently at the dark, decidedly sexy hairs on his chest.

“Fuck no!” he says, continuing to slowly finger me as he begins to rub his thumb against my clit, making me tighten my hold on him and move my hips in

time with the rhythm he’s creating.

“I’m not into that. I like my women free to go wild on me,” he whispers into

my ear, his voice promising pleasure.

“Okay,” I groan as he pushes me over the edge and into another orgasm. He

holds me tightly against his body as he continues drawing out my pleasure.

Removing his hand from beneath my towel, he raises the glistening fingers

to his lips and sucks them clean. “Delicious.”

Gently cupping my face, the man touches my lips with his own, briefly, and

whispers, “Are you sure?”

I nod my head in answer, unable to actually give voice to the desire. The desire I do not want to, should not have.

The man releases his hold on me and steps back. Crossing his arms over his

chest, he asks, “Why?”

“What?” I look up into his face, blinking in sudden confusion.

“Why do you want me to fuck you?”

“Because.”

“Because isn’t an answer, Princess,” he says in a low, demanding tone.

Unable to meet his eyes, I quietly say, “I thought you wanted … ”

“Stop right there,” he interrupts, stepping forward and putting one arm around my body. “I do.”

With his other hand, he grabs my hand and tucks it underneath his towel, wrapping it around his cock. “Feel how hard you make my cock. It didn’t get that way from anyone else but you, Princess. I’ve wanted to fuck you since you walked into the room downstairs.”

“Oh,” I say, unable to stop myself from squeezing him in my hand and stroking his smooth hardness once before realizing what I have done and quickly letting go.

“But I want to know what’s persuaded you that us fucking is a good idea.”

The man cups my face in his hands and gently strokes my cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t want you to ever regret it.”

I can’t help but melt into him. This man keeps displaying the confusing, perfect, combination of tenderness and possession.

“Because I want you too,” I growl, beginning to get annoyed. Why won’t he

just take what he’s wanted all night?

“Why?”

Pulling back, I look up into his face. His expression, a mix of amusement

and sternness has me stamping my foot petulantly. Why won’t he just fucking fuck me already? He clearly wants to. And I’ve made it clear I won’t be fighting him.

“Behave. Don’t pout,” he rebukes. “I don’t usually throw women over my lap and spank them until they tell me what I want to know, but I’m beginning to see the appeal.”

“You don’t?”

“No. There are much nicer ways for me to get the information I want out of

you, Princess,” he says, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me back toward him.

Fisting the hair at the back of my head, he leans in and kisses me with surprising gentleness. It does not last long, and soon he’s thrusting his tongue into my mouth and stealing my breath. I can do nothing but cling to his waist and enjoy the ride.

The hand not tangled in my hair moves up my body and takes hold of my breast. The towel rubs against my skin, making my nipples react and my body thrum with tormented pleasure.

“Sir,” I moan, wanting, needing, him to bring me over the edge once again.