Whipped Read Free Page A

your name again?”
    “I didn’t mention it.”
    He frowned. “What should I call you?”
    She studied him for a moment as a litany of stripper names skipped merrily through her mind. And then a memory, a memory from long ago, suffused her. Her lips curled. “I’m Bambi.”
    “Bambi.” His snort said it all. Yeah. Right. “And spit out that gum, Bambi .” The rumble in his voice told her the gum really annoyed him for some reason. She filed this fact way—for later. When annoying him might come in handy. But she did as he asked, spitting the gum into the wastebasket with a “Patooey.”
    Then she linked her hands behind her and wiggled from one side to the other. She could tell her blasé attitude annoyed him as well. His fingers curled into fists as though he wanted to spank her now. “Anything else, Sir?” She invested her tone with a rebellious thread.
    Sure enough, his nostrils flared. “Are you wearing panties under that skirt?” God she loved when he barked.
    “Yes…Sir.” His eyes narrowed at her deliberate hesitation.
    “Take them off.”
    “Off?”
    He sucked in a breath and, astonishingly, seemed to grow even larger. “Off. And don’t question me again.” He put his hands on his hips and stared at her coldly, but heat blazed beneath. “Well?”
    Tina thrust away the sudden flurry of nerves and slid her hands to her thighs, palms down, then slowly skated them up, under her hem. His breath snagged when he caught sight of her panties, some lacy confection shaped like a butterfly from a famous store with seriously overpriced lacy confections. She let a little moan escape her throat as she eased them down.
    He appreciated the effort. His gaze was riveted. His body hummed with tension.
    “Like this?” she asked in a little girl voice, as she pushed her panties to her ankles. She turned slightly, so her bare ass was within his line of sight. And she waggled it.
    “No talking,” he snapped, as though he couldn’t take it. Couldn’t bear to be teased. And wouldn’t allow it.
    She stepped out of her panties, leaving them on the floor. Rather than feeling exposed, she felt energized. He still stood by the bed, watching her, staring at her with brooding hunger. The outline of his cock in his jeans was unmistakable.
    Sudden need swamped her. Well, not too sudden—she’d wanted him forever, after all—but it was sudden in its intensity, in the brash, bold realization that he was here, hard for her…
    And she wasn’t wearing any panties.
    “Sit on the couch.”
    It was a leather couch, buttery soft. And cold. She hissed as the slick material touched her heated flesh. He said nothing more and, setting the condoms and the leather strap at the foot of the bed, prowled across the room. He sat opposite her in the straight-backed chair and studied her in silence for a long while, sipping his drink. So long, it made Tina a little nervous. She resisted the urge to fidget.
    “Spread your legs,” he said.
    She did, watching him as he watched her.
    And then, again with the silence.
    She nearly jumped when he spoke, his voice, low and silky, filling the room like a caress. “I like your jacket.”
    “Thanks.” It was a cute leather bolero with metal studs. She’d bought it on sale at a great little thrift shop on the Eastside. It screamed Vegas. Perfect for a wild girls-only bachelorette—
    “Take it off.”
    She quickly complied, removing the jacket and revealing the tight black Lycra shirt beneath. She loved this shirt, the way it hugged her curves and highlighted the swell of her breasts. He liked it too. His tongue peeped out as he stared at her. His lashes flickered as she drew in a deep breath and traced her cleavage—just in case he hadn’t noticed it.
    “Hands to your sides, please.” His tone was light, but carried scorching weight. She dropped her arms and waited for his next command.
    But he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Perhaps he wasn’t a boiling cauldron of lust. She was. She