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But the idea of even dipping her toe in…
A shudder took over, from her hair follicles to the ends of her toes. The ocean was freezing. And there were ice floes. Big ones, layered by years’ worth of emotional layers. Insecurity. Inexperience. Even ignorance. All the what-ifs. So many what-ifs…
What if I’m a failure? What if I blow everything up? I can’t figure out my son’s math homework. How am I supposed to run a whole goddamn country?
Two sharp smacks exploded on the air, whipping her mind back. Her body was only two seconds behind, once the recognition set in. His hands. Her ass. At the same time. An answering gasp tumbled out as the stings set in, shooting toward her hips then back again—
Though by the time the sensations boomeranged back in, they’d become pure heat. Flames through her inner thighs…the crevice of her ass…
…then deeper…
“Holy…shit.” She all but moaned the last of it, as the man magnified the sensual torment…in all the best and worst ways. Skimming his hands down to the back of her thighs, then swirling his fingertips in waltzes of seduction. Pushing his legs out another couple of inches, forcing hers apart in the process…opening the wet folds of her most intimate self to a rush of cool air and the blast of his aroused snarl.
“How is that for you, Madame President?”
He wove the rough sound throughout the words, which shouldn’t have made a difference in how she took them—but did. Braced by that wolfish, roguish grate, the title was no longer the petrifying curse she’d been damning. The words were a shameless caress. An irreverent come-on.
A filthy dare.
A challenge in which her body had been laid on the table as the betting pot.
“Holy shit.” There was a whine in her reiteration, and she didn’t care.
Because now, she was scared all over again.
Behind her—and now, leaning over her too—Franzen strung out a deep growl. “Wasn’t the question,” he taunted. Oh yes, that was the perfect descriptor too. Taunted, as if this was more than fun for him—his little party gaining momentum as he glided his hands back up, higher and higher, joining his middle fingers directly over her pussy. As he teased the tips of those powerful digits along the tingling tissues around her entrance, he emphasized, “I asked how you’re enjoying this, Madame President.”
“Ahhhhh…” It was more a sketchy breath than the beginning of a word. The way he’d deepened the sex track of his words…as if his instinct were tuned to the exact frequency of her body, and now broadcast his most erotic intent into every listening outpost of every wilderness of her system…
She was ready to go up in flames.
“Dear God.” The rolling, languid warmth started taking over. Her hips jerked. Her hands slipped. A pen cup and a paperclip holder went flying as Franzen whipped up a hand, slamming her wrists back over her head.
“Keep. Them. There,” he intoned. “Or I won’t be so gentle about this.”
“Gentle?” she returned. “About wha—ohhh!”
As both his middle fingers returned to her pussy, his index fingers stretched up—
To prod at the opening of her ass.
“Damn. John. We need to—”
“Ssshhh.” He wasn’t exactly “gentle” about that, turning the soft sound into everything short of another growl. “This is going to happen. And you’re going to be open-minded about it.”
She almost jabbed up a middle finger. Open-minded. It was a favorite expression of hers, used regularly on her petulant son during fourteen occasions on any given day, and the fucker standing over her clearly knew it…openly using her own words against her in his seductive gamble.
Damn him.
And once again, his point was Barney and Jurassic. This had to be a violation of some cosmic law. Dragons didn’t get to use lizard legends for their purposes like this, did they? Where was his karmic payback?
Inspiration struck, despite how his caresses to both entrances had begun to fray the edges of her logic. “Wh-what if I choose to safe word?”
He’d actually given her one of those. Ice cream. Technically it was two, but on that occasion, she also hadn’t been thinking straight. A girl had a tendency to get that way when a Dom decided to spread maple hickory ice cream into her sex, then lick it off to the tune of five orgasms for his writhing submissive. He’d demanded to go for number six. She’d threatened to go on a new flattening iron hunt.
This was a much different situation than that.
Muchdifferent.
