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I cupped my chin, trying to think of the best way to make her feel more comfortable, yet push the envelope a bit. My gaze flicked to the corner and I pointed at the dark brown chaise leaning against the wall.
"Go have a seat. And relax."
She obeyed, her round ass sexy as hell. I saw the twitch of her sucking in a breath, her way of covering some perceived flaw. The natural roundness of what she was working with was hotter than any number of curve less behinds she tried to mimic for the last few steps before she reached the chaise.
She sank onto the cushion and I watched as every worry fled her face and she relaxed. That sigh of relief, the smile that teased her lips...I wanted to see more of it.
"Swing your legs up." I tried on a smile of my own. "Get the full effect."
Leila needed no encouragement. She was well on her way to enjoying the comfort the chair provided. I was glad she was relaxing, because we had work to do. There was a part of her that I'd felt with my fingers and I wanted to see wide open and spread for me.
Her eyes popped open as soon as I stopped at the foot of the chaise.
"Raise up your knees and spread your legs. Wide enough so I can see you." And just in case she needed specificity, I added thickly, "All of you."
She looked surprised that I wanted to see her body. Who had convinced this woman that she was anything short of spectacular? She slowly, painstakingly drew her legs up until her knees were bent, like she was giving me a chance to back out. When I didn't, her gaze dropped to my fly and her lips formed the hottest 'O' of surprise. She saw that I was rock hard for her.
"And touch yourself," I added, struggling not to touch myself.
And then she just stared. Knees pressed together, face frozen like a deer in headlights. She was such a fascinating contradiction.
"Is there a problem?" I said, an edge to the question.
The sound that came out of her mouth was supposed to be a laugh, but it was a garbled mess that led to uncomfortable hiccups and trembling that made me forget all else but the one rule that any Dom worth his salt abides by: take care of your submissive first.
I reached for her, my palm against her hand. I expected her to shy from my touch, but instead, she lifted her fingers. I didn't hold hands, but I found myself interlacing my fingers with hers.
"I want you," I told her, my words as strong as my belief that we were embarking on a journey together. "But if you're not ready to submit to me now, I'm a patient man."
When it hit me just how natural it felt to have her hand in mine, I pulled away, marching back to my desk. One button and Natasha's voice chirped on the other end.
"Jacob Whitmore's office."
"Natasha, please call the boutique on Fifth and let them know I'm sending Miss Montgomery over before the flight to Venice."
I forced my thoughts to neutral territory since my cock was still ready, willing, and able to continue my first session with Leila. My heart knew she needed more time. And I knew this woman was worth the wait.
And frankly, with Rachel Laraby causing all kinds of headache, I needed a damn good assistant.
Leila was on her feet, catching my request and rightfully asking questions. "Uh, what? Boutique? Venice?"
I rounded my desk and took a seat, shifting back into work mode. "Yes. Press junket for one of our trouble clients. I'm sure you're familiar with her. Child star? Crashed and burned as soon as she hit 18 but is somehow still America's Sweetheart? This is her first serious role since she was released from rehab and you're accompanying me to the film festival to keep her on the straight and narrow and ensure all press is good press."
She gawked at me like I was already speaking Italian. "I can't just go to Europe."
My eyes were on my computer screen, but I went through the important details. "You have a passport, yes?"
"Well yeah, but I-"
"All expenses will be paid of course. When you're not essential, you'll be free to see the sights or whatever your heart desires."
I couldn't stay on task with a word like 'desire' hanging in the air. Not when she was still naked. She rose slowly, like this was all some dream and at any moment she'd be roused from her slumber. She angled toward her stack of clothes.
"Leave the clothes."
Indignation rounded her features. "I'm certainly not gonna traipse around in-"
"Look beneath the chaise."
