He did sit this time, shifting on the couch to face her. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Corinne cleared her throat, looking a little nervous before she smoothed her expression with an obvious effort. She shook the hair off her forehead. Squared her shoulders. She looked him right in the eyes.
“Don’t let me down.”
He paused before answering, surprised at the simplicity of the single rule. “That’s it?”
“That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”
“I just thought…” He stopped himself.
“I know what you probably thought,” Corinne said. “I think I know what you probably wanted.”
He smiled. “Yeah? What did I want on the list?”
“You wanted rules about how you should address me. Yes?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said with a grin.
“Here’s the thing about rules, Reese. If you make a list of rules for the sole purpose of defining what has to happen when you break them, doesn’t that sort of dilute the impact of the rules to begin with?”
He frowned. “Not sure what you mean.”
Corinne took him by the front of the shirt and pulled him closer, her gaze tracing all the places her fingertips had touched only moments before. “It means that I don’t want this to be about jumping through hoops. It’s hard enough to find someone you like, much less someone whose kinks align. And ours align, don’t they?”
Her fingers tightened in his shirt, digging into his chest beneath. Her mouth brushed his, but when he tried to kiss her, she pulled away. Reese’s laugh had an edge to it.
“Yes.”
“It means that I want a relationship based on mutual desires. Also respect and responsibility. It means that I’m going to take this seriously, and I expect you to do the same.” The tip of her tongue flicked his chin.
“Yes. Of course.”
“It means that I want us to take our time and relearn each other,” Corinne continued. This time, instead of her tongue stroking him, her teeth nipped at his skin. She nudged his head back to get next to his throat.
Fuck, his cock was hard enough to break brick, just from the subtle pressure of her fingers on his chest and the brief, tempting sting of her teeth. “Yes, Ma’am.”
She laughed, sweet and throaty, against his skin. “I love when you call me that. I always did.”
“I know. See? I know a lot about you already. I know you like this,” he added, sliding a hand between them to cup her breast and let his thumb pass over her nipple, already erect and taut through the thin material of her shirt and bra.
Her hissing gasp sent a slow, rolling bolt of desire through him. He wanted to bury his face between her breasts and pull up her shirt to get at her flesh beneath, but he kept his thumb just barely stroking over her nipple. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sound of her breathing.
When she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head back, he didn’t move his hand. Corinne licked her lips. “This is not going to be all about sex.”
“No, Ma’am.”
“I expect you to actually take me out. On dates.”
He grinned, letting his thumb stroke, stroke, stroke. Her nipple felt about as hard as his dick; he hoped she was starting to ache the way he was. “Absolutely. Anywhere you want to go.”
“I…oh.”
He pinched lightly then, sending a shudder through her that had her giving him a stern look. “Yes, Ma’am? You were saying?”
She put her hand over his, then removed it firmly. “It’s late. I don’t know about you, Mr. Bazillionaire Boss, but I have to work in the morning.”
“Call in sick.”
“Up.” She pushed him until he moved away, then she stood. “I’m going home.”
“But—” At the warning look she shot him, Reese gave a muffled groan. “Fine.”
She laughed and bent to kiss his mouth, letting it linger until he grabbed for her hips. Then she slapped his hands lightly. “Nope. I’m going. And you’re going to wait until I’ve left, and then you’re going to take that pretty cock of yours, and you’re going to stroke it until you’re just about to come. But you’re not going to.”
“No?” He couldn’t help grinning, even as the thought of it sent a wave of heat sizzling through him. His cock nudged the front of his jeans, beginning to throb.
“No.”
“How many…how many times, Ma’am?”
She tapped her forefinger on her lips. “Fifteen. One for every year since we broke up the first time.”
Shit.
“You want me to edge fifteen times?”
“Yes, puppy,” she breathed, leaning to speak directly into his ear. “I want you to edge fifteen times for me. I want that cock hard and leaking and craving me.”
“I already am…”
She laughed and nipped his earlobe, then danced away from him when he again foolishly tried to grab her. “No, no, no! It’s late. Do as you’re told.”
He fell back onto the couch with a loud groan of protest, a hand on the bulge in his pants. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”