His to Cherish His to Cherish (Titans Quarter #3) - Sierra Cartwright Page 0,2

she’d reheated the bathwater twice.

Emma slammed the book closed, dropped it on the floor, leaned back against the bath pillow, and closed her eyes. Part of her wished she’d never started down this path.

Until now, every one of her sexual experiences had been ho-hum and boring. Her last relationship had ended more than six months ago, and clearly the drought was getting to her. How else could she explain the fact she was fantasizing about Philip Dettmer tying her hands behind her back and bending her over the bed? He’d use one of the scarves she’d bought, or maybe handcuffs… He’d tell her, in detail, what he was going to do to her before slapping her ass hard.

She opened her eyes. It was almost as if she could feel the pressure of his open-handed strike on her buttocks.

What the hell was going on? Emma had always been practical and realistic, never given to flights of fancy. She’d studied hard, graduated with honors, and secured a great job. But now…?

She climbed from the bathtub and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. Maybe it was because she’d read the book, or from the risqué lunch conversation, but she was more turned on than she remembered being. She grabbed a vibrator from the nightstand drawer and lay down on the bed.

After turning on the switch, Emma parted her thighs and placed the egg-shaped toy against her pussy. She finally admitted the truth to herself. Her arousal wasn’t from the novel or from the discussion with her friends. It was the chance meeting with Mr. Dettmer. The scent of him, combined with his aura of authority and bold words, had made it impossible for her to have a single rational thought.

The vibrator’s humming, pulsing sensation pushed her to the edge. Even though she dug her heels into the mattress and continued to move the egg against her swollen clit, the orgasm loomed out of reach.

Frustrated, she turned the toy to its highest setting and pinched her right nipple. The pain was exquisite. Would Mr. Dettmer do the same if she scened with him? Or would he use clamps on her? In her fantasy, he tormented her ruthlessly, showing no mercy even though she begged for it.

Would he be like the hero in the book, using bondage gear to tie her up while he ripped orgasm after orgasm from her poor body?

In her fevered imagination, she submitted to him. Emma had no idea what that really meant, but she wanted to find out. She wanted to kneel for him, to follow his orders, to get rid of her inhibitions with a man who wasn’t afraid of her sexuality. For her, that was what it was really about. Even when she was in a committed relationship, her sex drive was never satiated.

Her pussy got wetter and wetter as she imagined Philip Dettmer’s hands on her body. His touch wouldn’t be gentle, but it would be what she needed.

Enough to actually call him?

Before today, she might have said no.

But the lunch with her friends had been liberating. Talking about the book had allowed Emma and her friends to share their innermost desires.

One of her best friends, Shelby, was in a lifestyle BDSM relationship with her fiancé, Trevor. According to Shelby, he’d helped her get past her awful hang-ups about commitment, and she seemed even more confident now than she ever had. Emma knew her friend occasionally visited a club in the French Quarter with Trevor.

The idea of being with a Dominant in public made Emma tighten her grip on her nipple. As she squirmed, she pictured Mr. Dettmer slapping her pussy hard.

The combination of her thoughts and the slight pain was enough to make her cry out. Then she imagined him naked, his cock erect, digging his hand into her hair before forcing that big dick inside her needy pussy. The thought of him relentlessly fucking her pushed her to the edge.

Wave after wave assailed her. She’d never had an orgasm this sustained. Shock waves of sensation flooded her pussy. This was what she’d always wanted, dreamed of.

Soon the intensity from the vibrator became too much, and she dropped it, leaving it humming on the mattress while she drank in gulps of air.

It took a full minute for her to breathe normally again. Finally, she sat up and switched off the small egg. Her legs were wobbly as she stood to pull on a nightshirt.

The climax had been good, and yet the odd restlessness persisted. She usually