The Only Choice (The Choices Trilogy #3) (15 page)

“No sir, it wasn’t. Now what do you plan on doing about it?” I feel so much power in the moment I am breathless with it, well that and my increase in walking pace. I am nearly home and I kind of hope he wants to play. I hear him groan.

“Mmm what shall I do?” He sighs and is quite on the line. I can barely hear him breathing. “Are you home?”

“Nearly . . . five minutes.” I am dodging pedestrians eager to reach my goal, both my goals.

“Good. Go to your room, strip to your panties and lie on the bed. I will call you in ten minutes put me on speaker. You will need your hands.” He hangs up and I break into a jog. Oh good! He
is
going to play.

Lying quietly still for ten minutes has done nothing to calm my racing heart and nervous anticipation. I know I have removed the camera and I could be doing the washing up right now for all he knows but I still feel strangely compelled to obey his commands. I crave his punishment and I want to please him. I am struggling to believe these changes I am suffering are a result of what can’t be much more than a tiny bundle of cells at this stage. I take a moment to do a mental check that it isn’t just all in my head. My senses are ultra-sensitive, smell, taste, when I do manage to stomach food. Sight and hearing not so much, tired? Yes, emotional? Yes, raging hormones? Um yes . . . I am, after all, lying half naked waiting for some phone relief from a man I am not seeing but I can’t seem to resist. That has to be a result of altered brain function as well as hormones. What about sore breasts? I lift my hands and cup myself. I know for health reasons I should but this is not something I do on a regular basis so I don’t know. Yes they feel delicate but is that normal? When Daniel does it, it feels amazing, sensitive and sometimes painful but always incredible. It is like when a doctor presses on a place you’ve never pressed before and asks if it hurts; well yes but would it normally? I don’t know because I don’t go round pressing myself or fondling my breasts so I have no frame of reference.

I puff out a frustrated breath when it finally occurs to me, that I am an idiot. This
is
my punishment. Twenty five minutes waiting for something, anything . . . punishment, relief, maybe even reward but nothing. I am being denied. Well, that may be his intention but the final outcome is most definitely in my hands. I am aroused, half naked and now I seem to be gently holding my own breasts which are almost as sensitive to my touch as his. My nipples are achingly hard and my skin is prickled with a million goose bumps. I don’t actually own a BOB, thought I had one from a hen party goody bag but apparently not. Still I have my fingers, a healthy imagination and the sex drive of a horny rabbit. This really shouldn’t take long. I close my eyes and moan because all I can see is his eyes, his face contorted with desire. I succumb to this blissful image and in my mind replace my hands with his, my breath with his and my. . . . Shit! Shit! The doorbell breaks my dream like haze, halting the fantasy before it took its first forbidden step. I grab my robe from the back of my bedroom door and roughly push my arms through the sleeve, taking my frustrated anger out on the silky material. I am going to take that front door key and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Marco has managed to get in the main door just not in to the apartment. He has not even bothered to look under the plant pot. I fumble with the main lock.

“For fuck sake Marco the keys under the—” I snap my mouth shut when I am faced not with my forgetful flatmate but the smouldering image of my recently dissolved fantasy. He steps in through the door forcing me to step back. His hands take the edge of my robe and cross it firmly, tightening it again at the waist whilst looking over his shoulder. There is no one there and it makes me chuckle, barely a flash of cleavage was exposed and he acts like I’m Lady Cadaver.

“Please don’t finish that sentence with plant pot because I will have to punish you all over again and I have plans for us tonight.” His arm sweeps around my waist and he steers me into my bedroom.

“So leaving me waiting was my punishment?” I watch him walk toward my wardrobe where he frowns as he rummages through my sparse array of clothing.

“No, stopping you from finishing, that was your punishment and judging by that tone you answered the door with I would say I was successful?” He turns his head with a cocky grin. He pulls out a sleeveless black silk knitted dress with a flared skirt and a horizontal lace pattern. It is pretty much the only cocktail dress I had bought when I restocked my wardrobe. He lays it on the bed and starts to look for some shoes. I pinch my lips to stop from smirking when I hear him grumble. I know I only have wedges with any heal, not a stiletto insight. He pulls out a black wedged sandal but he doesn’t look happy about it. He is just about to put them next to the dress when he grins, noticing a small folded pile of clothes near my dresser under which he has spied the tell-tale red sole of Sofia’s patent black Louboutins with killer heels. “There, that is better.” He looks so pleased with himself. “Now if you would get dressed . . . I am taking you on a date.” His stellar smile disarms me but I have to protest.

“I don’t think that’s—” He steps up to me and places his firm finger against my lips halting my words.

“You have to let me try Bethany and I promise nothing will happen to you tonight, that you don’t want to happen.” His words are like velvet, a soft and seductive promise and that is exactly what I’m worried about. He chuckles, “Good to know.” He kisses me lightly. His lips sweet and warm but my eyes are wide, that was in my head, did I say that out loud? “I am expecting a delivery so I will be a gentleman and wait in the hall and Bethany . . .” He pauses, my eyes are still wide from his ability to mind read. “You may wear panties.”

I snort out an unladylike laugh. “Definitely a gentleman, thank you most kindly Sir.” I do a mock curtsey and usher him from my room.

I PILE MY
hair in a loose bun on top of my head and brush the wayward tendrils away from my face, some lip gloss and I’m done. The weather has been uncharacteristically not very British recently and this evening is no exception, warm, balmy with almost tropical humidity, hence the wayward tendrils. There is a gentle knock on my door.

“Are you decent?” His gravelly voice makes my skin dance with a sprinkling of a million prickles and I think in my current heighten state of constant sexual arousal I can safely answer ‘not even remotely’ but I settle for a polite affirmation. The door opens and he leans on the frame, his arms crossing his trim waist, his forearms tanned, sculpted and his eyes . . . they could scorch the clothes from my skin.

“God you are so fucking beautiful.” His frown deepens like this thought has made him angry. He shakes his head at the troubled expression, replacing it with an utterly wicked smile. “But there’s something missing.” He pushes himself from the doorframe with his shoulders and in two strides is directly in front of me, not touching but I can instantly feel the palpable heat and tension his body ignites. He traces a finger down my cheek, I feel his gentle touch but he isn’t actually touching me; my body is reacting to the nearness, to the anticipation, to the promise. This is going to be a tortuously long night. “Tonight is a date Bethany. I don’t want you to think for one moment what we have is just about sex, even if that sex is phenomenal. I will not be fucking you, or making love to you tonight.” His grin widens at my pathetic whimper that is strangled at the back of my throat. “Having said that, your body seems to be hyper responsive to my touch and I do intend on touching you, a great deal.” His middle finger barely touches my chin to tilt it so his eyes are fixed on mine. “And I can’t have you begging all night, because I’m only human and I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

I sniff at his arrogance but it falls flat. His eyes darken, like he is setting my soul on fire and I can feel the heat burning fiercely in my depths, building pressure and embers of desire that will rage with the slightest fanning. His mouth is millimetres from mine and he is holding his sweet lips just out of reach. Even as I sway for contact he reacts and withdraws enough, enough to prove his point. I can feel my lips form the shape of my first begging words.

“Pl. .” He kisses me so lightly but it calms the embers for now and I sigh.

“So to help us both I’d like you to wear these.” He holds his palm and my eyes are momentarily drawn from his gaze to what looks like, two small glossy black marbles in his hands. He chuckles at my frown.

“Well, this is hardly a
Pretty Woman
moment Daniel.” I joke and I can feel my cheeks flush. Personally I may not be super experienced with sex toys but I’ve been educated by the best. Frequent awkward conversations with Marco and the boys in the restaurant kitchen left no topic taboo.

“Bethany, when I give you a diamond necklace, it won’t be a rental.” His serious expression leaves me in no doubt of his words but it gives way to a wickedly slow grin. “Now, turn around Bethany, bend over and place your hands on the bed.” His voice is dark and hoarse and when I hesitate he asks. “Do you trust me?” I turn and follow his instruction, my actions speaking for me. He runs his hand down my spine and lifts the hem of my dress over my bottom. It is an act that makes me feel extremely exposed but when he pulls my panties to one side this vulnerability intensifies. His deep satisfied humming from his chest and the soft sweep of his finger in my slick folds instantly dissolves any unease and I find my hips move toward his too delicate touch. He dips one finger inside, pulls it slowly out and the next feeling is more intense, a change in pressure and temperature as he pushes one of the balls inside me. Before I can clench and acclimate he pushes the second ball deep, along with his finger, swirling and moving the foreign objects so I am acutely aware of their presence. He removes his finger and drags it once more along my length and up the crack of my bottom. He carefully replaces my panties and pats my dress back into place.

I stand and turn to face him, my face a flush of colour and I wobble as the balls move ever so lightly inside. The feeling is strange, not unpleasant and a little distracting. “Umm and this is supposed to help how exactly?” I hold myself perfectly still and he moves a little closer. His hands gently brush the stray hair away from my eyes, stroking his fingers lightly across my neck and down my back; his mouth brushes my cheekbone. I shiver when I feel a gentle build of pressure, moving and swirling deep inside.

“Mmm lets see shall we?” His fresh minty breath follows his whispered words as his lips trace mine, his tongue seeking entry. Trembling I gasp as a satisfying wave of pleasure gently bursts inside, nothing monumental but delicious and calming. My seemingly insatiable need quelled and abated without a single, pant, beg or torn piece of clothing. “No need for BOB.” He growls, “And I get to be the perfect gentleman making sure you have the most enjoyable date imaginable without compromising my intentions.” He sounds smug but he moves his hand to adjust himself and I laugh and draw in a sharp breath at the same time. Ok so no sudden movements or sharp contracting muscles and gently does it from now on, which includes sudden fits of laughter.

“I think this is all good in theory but I have a feeling it’s not going to be that simple.” I cautiously lean down to pick up my bag. “And what about you?” I raise my brow and bite my lips to hold back the inevitable grin.

“I promise nothing will happen tonight that you don’t want to happen but I was serious about no sex. You have to understand, nothing is more important than you understanding
exactly
what you mean to me. I need to make you mine . . . again.” His serious tone hangs heavy but he shrugs, “So I will have to endure the hard on from hell all evening while you have an evening full of mini orgasms. Sucks to be me right now, eh?” He winks and laughs but my tongue darts to moisten my lips at the only word I heard and he holds his hand up. “Hey, I’m not a Saint, keep looking like that and this will be the shortest fucking date in history.” He cups my cheeks with both hands large enough to cover my entire face, his expression so sincere it melts my heart. “Please baby, let me do this?” I nod and he flashes his heart steeling smile, grabs my hand and leads me from the apartment. “Great, I promise this is going to be fun.” His enthusiasm is contagious and has me feeling all warm and fuzzy; well, I think it’s his enthusiasm.