Page 41 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

Who am I now?

Janice caught the shift on my face. "Lace, sorry, I was kidding."

"No, it's fine." I shook my head. "I sort of—wanted you to like it."

Heat went up my neck. It was true. I'd wanted her to like it. That was a new piece of information about me.

"I'm still catching up to all of this. Last time I was the woman who ran out of here. Tonight I'm—" I trailed off, because the rest wouldn't sit in my mouth.

Ricardo's arm tightened. "I'm fine going as slow as you want."

I shook my head. "No. I'm over taking it slow."

I leaned in and kissed him again, deeper, my hand finding him through his pants, stroking light, feeling him thicken. When I pulled back his cheeks were flushed and his pupils were wide.

Janice's voice was husky. "Even watching you two makes me wet."

"Are you ready?" I asked him. "Because I am."

His eyes were dark. "Oh yes."

I stood. "Private. I just need it to be only you tonight. Is that okay?"

He nodded, decisive. "More than okay, Lacey."

Janice's voice came soft behind me. "You go, girl."

Ricardo led me down the dim hallway. Heavy velvet brushed our shoulders. Muffled sounds drifted through closed doors, soft gasps, the creak of springs. The air was warmer here. Clean linen, vanilla from candles, the musk of skin under it.

He opened one of the doors at the end. Stepped aside for me. Followed me in, and locked it with a quiet click.

It was a small room. Two lamps. Dark charcoal sheets. A single sandalwood candle on the nightstand. No mirrors. No restraints. Just the room.

I stood in the center, heart loud in my ears. I was waiting for him to take charge, to do what the books said the man did. Push me onto the bed. Hold me down.

He stepped close, eyes searching mine. "We go at your pace."

I closed the distance and kissed him, hard, the want of it cutting off whatever he'd been about to say. Against his mouth I whispered, "Strip my clothes off."

Something moved behind his eyes again, that same flicker, at hearing the careful doctor give the order. Then the delighted smile. His hands went to the zipper at my back and drew it down with a reverence I hadn't given anyone permission to feel for me. The dress slid off my shoulders and pooled at my feet. He unhooked my bra, let it fall, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts as the lace cleared them. His hands weren't quite steady. He caught me noticing, and huffed a small laugh at himself, and that disarmed me more than any smoothness would have.

Then he knelt.

He hooked his fingers in my panties and drew them down, slow, kissing the inside of one thigh, then the other, until I stepped out and stood naked in front of him.

I'd spent decades apologizing for my sexuality. Hiding it. Dressing it down. Asking it to take up less room. Standing naked in front of Ricardo in this small room with the candle going, I felt something change. Not transformation. More like a door I'd been shoving against for years giving way because I'd finally stopped shoving the wrong direction.

I wasn't Dr. Bonds. I was a woman in a body that wanted a man, and the man was a foot away, on his knees, looking at me like a fox in a henhouse.

The candlelight moved across my skin.

Ricardo stood and stripped, shirt shrugged off, lean muscle, pants and boxers pushed down in one motion that was a half-second too quick, too eager, and he knew it, and didn't care.

He pulled me to the bed. He kissed down, slow, along my collarbone, lower, his mouth closing over one breast, then the other, patient, while he softly stroked my clit. I arched and held him there.

He kissed lower. Ribs. Stomach. When he reached my hips I gave up on patience and pushed his head down, and he went without hesitation.

His mouth found me, and I stopped narrating it to myself. Just his mouth and my pussy that had quit pretending it didn't want what it wanted. I was loud in a way I'd never let myself be loud. It built fast, and when I was close, too close, I pulled him up by the hair.