Stepdad Billionaire Series

Sex Ritual

“Giles!?"

“Yes, you love it, don’t you?” He traced his fingers across the sensitive niche at the top of her thighs, making brief, maddening contact with her pussy. Then he pushed her legs farther apart with a demanding knee. “Let me see you.”

Pleasure, pain and shame quickly engulfed her, swamping her with another wave of desire. He ran a knowing thumb back and forth over her clit. Her body was so wired that she reached orgasm moments later, crying out with relief.

She was still shuddering when she heard the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open. He opened her up with two fingers and eased his cock inside her, capturing her as she ebbed back from the edge, quickly sending her back to it again.

“Giles, so good,” she whispered in relief, suddenly filled with him, her innards melting with pleasure and clasping him gratefully. When he brushed against her buttocks it sent shock waves through her. Her body was singing. She grasped at the table for anchorage, her cuffs rattling against the wood surface.

He kneaded her flesh, hauling her buttocks apart, his cock nudging deeper into her swollen pussy. He groaned with pleasure as he bent over her back, sliding in and out, filling her to the hilt.

“Oh yes.” She shuddered with sensation, her hands clawing for the far edge of the table.

“Good?” he murmured against her back. When she moaned agreement, he thrust again. “Is this just a game to you, a bit of rough play, or does it mean more?”

He stroked her hair back, encouraging her to turn her head.

“Giles…please.” She put her cheek to the bare wood of the table, giving herself over to him.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Her hips lifted and she pushed back, offering herself, but Giles rested his hand on the small of her back, stilling her and keeping her under his control.

The slow deep thrusts hypnotized all of her senses, leading her into ecstasy.

He breathed close against her ear, his thrusts slowing. “What do you see, over there on the floor?”

She was so close to coming, but he ran his knuckles along her jaw then pointed. She blinked and focused.

A black lacquered box stood against the wall, and a length of rope spilled out of it onto the floor. She hadn’t even noticed it before, so focused was she on him, her lover. Now she saw it, and she knew what he’d been leading her to. “Oh God.”

The crown of his cock massaged her deeply at her center, as if his arousal grew in response when she looked at his offering. She moaned loudly, unable to hold back.

“Rope bondage-shibari. It’s the ultimate ritual. If you offer me yourself completely and allow me to bind you, you would be showing me how much you trust me.”

“I can’t,” she blurted. Even as she said it, she wanted to know what it would be like. Images of being totally bound filled her mind. She thrust her cuffed wrists right across the table, and her core clamped hard on his shaft, her hips rolling back into his.

“Oh, yes, you’re interested. Your body always gives you away, my dear.”

He’d set it up to test and tempt her, to introduce her to the idea.

She shook her head.

His cock reached. His hand on the small of her back exerted more pressure. That only made her buck against him all the more. Desperate for release, she writhed against the hard surface of the table, her body needling all over as she hovered on the brink of release.

“You want to feel that rope against your skin, don’t you?” The immense amount of self-control he was using was palpable in the atmosphere. He was holding back in order to tease her with this suggestion.

Imogen couldn’t take it anymore. “Maybe. Not yet.”

He kissed the back of her neck. “How well do I know you?”

There was humor in his tone now, and she bucked against him, edgy with conflicting emotions.

He chuckled darkly and eased his cock out, leaving her bereft. “How well…?”

She cried aloud. “All right, yes!” She blurted out the acknowledgement, her frustration spilling over. “You do know me…damn you, you know me better than I know myself!”

Blinking back tears of frustration, she whimpered, hiding in her hair as it fell across her face, thankful he didn’t respond verbally.

Instead he locked his hands on her hips and began to drive and thrust with real purpose, speeding them both toward the peak. As she blossomed into climax, her body awash with relief, she stared across at the rope all the while, wondering, wanting, and yet afraid of what it meant about her—what it meant about them both.

* * *

Two days later, Andrea—Imogen’s personal assistant—deposited a stack of files on her desk. “I have those documents you requested.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s also a package for you. Anything else you need before I head off?”

The package lay on the top and was marked for her attention only. Imogen recognized the handwriting, it was from Giles. Her pulse tripped. She smiled at Andrea and shook her head. “No, we’re done for the day, thanks.”

Once she was alone, she picked up the package. She was due a set of press release statements about changes in the department, but the envelope was bigger than she’d expected. When she opened it she found the paperwork, together with a plain black box marked for her attention only.

She turned it over in her hands, savoring the thought that he’d handled it, that he’d sent it to her. That was how much she wanted contact with him, and that alone made her sigh with longing. Just two days without that connection made her feel slightly unreal and disjointed. It was as if he’d become an anchor to her. How had that happened?

When she was sure she wouldn’t be interrupted, she removed the tape that sealed the box. A note rested on top of the tissue paper inside.