by Corgan, Sky
Flesh
Part Three
SKY CORGAN
Text copyright 2015 by Sky Corgan.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.
CHAPTER ONE
I don't know what to do. I know what my body wants to do, but it's not right. I didn't come here for this, even if I secretly wanted it to happen.
Yes, this is why I wore my most seductive business attire. This is why I spent hours in front of the mirror, making sure I looked perfect. This is what played through my head the entire drive over to his house. It's not what I actually expected to happen though.
Already, my breathing is becoming unsteady. My body is on edge. Just the feel of his hand on my face—it's like the skin to skin contact is pumping an aphrodisiac into me. I'm having the most difficult time keeping focused, remembering that I'm here on business.
“Doctor Reddick, I have a job to do,” I tell him, though the resolve in my voice is weak, and I don't try to pull away.
“You don't learn very well, do you?”
His words are like a slap to the face. He's politely calling me stupid, and he's looking at me with such disappointment that it pushes my arousal back.
I want to pull away from him. I want to tell him that the consultation is over, and he can seek out one of our competitors. But then I think about Tyra and Derrick. They're both so hopeful that I'll do a good job and land Lucian as a client. And if I do, the benefits could be life changing. I'd definitely get a bonus, and maybe even a raise. Not only that, but the company would likely get more high-profile clientele. This isn't just about me. What I do in the next few moments affects the lives of so many people. Can I really afford to be selfish and refuse him?
“I get it, you want me to call you Sir. I'll call you Sir, if that's what pleases you,” I try to bite back the disdain in my voice. We're not at Flesh anymore. The little roleplay where he owned me was supposed to have ended there.
“You have no idea what would please me, Amy.” He brushes his thumb over my lips. The gentle touched coupled with the intensity of his gaze is enough to start stripping my resolve away. He's so ridiculously handsome, and so good with his words. I feel like a prisoner to my own desires, unable to escape. A large part of me doesn't want to escape. That same part of me desperately wants to know what would please him.
Just when I think there's no more space between us, he moves even closer. His hand releases my chin, and he strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. His lips hover over mine, his head slightly tilted. My eyes fall to his mouth. He's teasing me, knowing I want to kiss him. It's annoying how well he has a read on me. Perhaps he remembers from last night. This is the worst type of teasing, the kind that makes me want to pounce on him, wrap my legs around his hips, and dive into an hour-long make-out session, worshiping those perfect lips of his.
I can't do that though. He's made it clear that everything that happens between us is on his terms. I'm just a doll to him—a toy to be played with. It infuriates me and arouses me at the same time, the thought of being used by such a beautiful, powerful man.
His eyes scan over my face, staying hooded with lust. I wait for him to kiss me, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks down, blatantly ogling my cleavage. He drops his hand to trace the plummeting neckline of my blouse, his fingers stopping right between my breasts. “Do you always dress this sexy for consultations?”
Score! He does think I look good. Mission accomplished. Time spent in the mirror, well worth it.
“I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Sir.” I play coy.
“You're such a liar.” He smiles at me, and I feel a surge of desire about to bowl me over. He's attractive when he's trying to seduce me, but he's absolutely stunning when he smiles.
“And you're such a flirt.” I see a small window of opportunity to break his spell, and I take it, turning around to step farther into the room. I'd prefer to walk out the door, but he's still blocking the entrance. Maybe I can just take one more picture in here to distract his mind from sex and then walk around him.
I raise my camera to my face, but as soon as I do, I feel his hands on my arms, pulling them behind me. A tiny gasp escapes my throat as he holds me in place for a moment before taking the camera, letting me go, and stepping back several feet. I barely have time to protest as he lifts the camera and snaps a quick picture of me.
“Cute.” I stick my hand out toward him, placing the other one on my hip as I tap my foot, giving him a distinct I'm-not-messing-around look.
Instead of handing me the camera though, he takes another picture of me, an ear to ear grin plastered across his face. “Less scowling, more sultry Goddess.”
“What?” My hard exterior cracks, and I laugh.
He clicks another picture. “You're gorgeous. You should smile more.”
My cheeks heat up from the compliment. At best, I'm pretty. Nice face. Less than perfect body with a bit too much baggage. Gorgeous is never an adjective I could honestly imagine being used to describe me.
“As I said, you're a flirt. You've had your fun, now give me back my camera.” I make a grabbing gesture at the camera, though I don't move forward to retrieve it.
He lowers the camera for a moment, looking contemplative. “How about you take off that blouse and let me take more pictures of you?”
My mouth falls agape at his indecent suggestion. “That's my work camera.”
“You can always delete the pictures later.”
“Out of the question. Now, give it back.” I reclaim the serious stance I held before he made the sultry Goddess joke.
“Come and get it.” He nods towards the camera with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Are you serious?” My shoulders slump.
“Dead serious. If you want it, you're going to have to come get it.”
“If I come get it, you're just going to hold it up where I can't reach.” I glare at him.
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won't.” He tosses the camera from one hand to the other, making my nerves go on edge. If he drops the camera and breaks it, I'll be in so much trouble.
“If I play along with your little game, you'll give me back the camera, right?” I cock an eyebrow at him, showing him that I don't think this is funny at all.
“Oh, don't act like you don't want to. Live a little.”
“Fine,” I sigh, stomping forward to try to get the camera from him. As expected, he holds it up above his head where there's no possible chance that I'll be able to reach it.
I try not to look at him as I stand on tiptoe, wiggling my fingers as if it will help me grow an inch or two. Our bodies are pressed together, but there's nothing sexual about it. Not for me, at least. This is all business. All playful business.
He's not giving up, getting some sick enjoyment out of watching me struggle. In a last-ditch attempt to get the camera, I jump for it.
Wrong move.
Not only do I miss the camera, but one of my pencil-thin heels snaps beneath my weight when I land on it, my ankle rolls, and I end up falling. Thankfully, Lucian is quick. Somehow, he manages to catch me before I hit the floor. The damage is already done though. Pain shoots up my leg as I try to put weight on my injured ankle, and I cry out.
“Are you alright?” He slowly lowers me onto the floor.
All I see is red, as I lean over to clutch at my ankle. So not sexy, but in the moment, it doesn't matter.
“Here, let me see.” In an instant, Lucian's in d
octor mode. He crawls down to my feet and gently takes off the shoe with the broken heel. “Can you move it?” I bend my ankle and pain follows, though it's not unbearable. “Good.” His hands move over my ankle, applying gentle pressure. “I don't feel anything abnormal. I think you just sprained it.”
“I certainly hope so,” I mumble.
“Let's get you up off of the floor.” Lucian stands. I expect him to give me his hand and help me up, but instead, he slides one hand under my arms and the other under my legs to scoop me up.
My eyes go wide as he lifts me, and I clutch onto his neck, tilting my head towards his chest and wincing, not from pain, but from the fear of being dropped. It's unmerited fear though. If he's struggling with my weight, I can't tell. He carries me to the bed effortlessly and sets me down on top of it, draping my legs over the side and kneeling in front of me to inspect my ankle again.
“I think it's alright.” I gaze down at him in amazement. There's genuine concern etched into his features. All traces of the playful man who was there before are gone.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen.” He looks up at me earnestly.
“I know. You were just being...” What? I'm not even sure. Flirty? A dick who wouldn't give me my camera back. My camera...
My heart stills until I locate the camera on the floor where I fell. It seems to be intact, but there's no way to be sure until I can get my hands on it.
“Can you give me my camera?” I ask, worried for a moment that he might try to tease me again.
“Sure.” He retrieves it promptly, putting it in my hands without hesitation.
Thankfully, it turns on without any issues. That would have been the cherry on top of everything that's gone wrong today, a broken camera. Relieved that it's alright, I quickly flip through the pictures and delete the ones Lucian took of me. The fun and games are over. Hopefully, he realizes that now.
The bed dips beside me as he sits down. It's unnerving being this close to him, knowing that he's watching what I'm doing. I feel his hand on my forehead, brushing my hair over my shoulder, so he can get a better look at my face. A warm shiver rolls down my spine from his touch. He's back in predator mode. I can sense it without even looking at him. You'd think that him injuring me would have been enough to make him drop the pursuit, but he's tenacious.
“I think I should finish taking my pictures and go.” I try to stand, but as soon as I put weight on my ankle, it gives out.
Lucian pulls me back down onto the bed, then wraps his arm tightly around my shoulder. “I don't think that's such a good idea.”
“I have to have these pictures turned in tomorrow.” I stare down at the camera helplessly. Maybe if I just rest my leg for a few minutes, it will be alright. Worst case scenario, I can limp around the house and finish the job. One way or another, it's getting done.
“Says who?” He rests his chin on my shoulder. I can't tell if I like him being so close to me, or if I hate it.
“Says my boss. She sent me here to do a job, and I need to do it.”
“Well, I'm a doctor, and I say that you need to stay off of that ankle for a while.”
My mood sulks as I realize that he's probably right. If I walk around on the ankle, I'm only going to irritate it more. Still, I don't really have a choice.
“I'll get off of it when I finish up here and go home,” I grumble, trying to force myself onto my feet.
Lucian rounds on me, grabbing both of my shoulders and pushing me down until my back is flat on the bed. I gasp and try to struggle for a moment, but it's no use. His entire body weight is on me, and I don't have the strength to fight him off.
His eyes burn into mine, smoldering, as if they can siphon the energy out of my very soul. So blue. So mesmerizing. He quickly grabs my wrists and forces them above my head. The pressure of his large palms pushing my wrists into the soft comforter below feels surprisingly pleasant. He's trapping me, keeping me in place...and part of me likes it.
“If you don't behave, I'm going to have to restrain you,” he warns, and there's a hint of a challenge in his voice.
“Restrain me?” I parrot back absentmindedly, still captivated by his eyes.
“Yes.” He leans into me, his cheek nuzzling against mine as he whispers in my ear. “You know, that thing where I take away your freedom.” He nips at my earlobe, causing a shiver to roll from the top of my spine all the way down to my core. Then he pulls back and moves to the other side, his lips so close to my face that they brush mine. I stifle a moan threatening to break free from my throat and close my eyes, internally fighting against my desire for him. “The thing where you're powerless against me, where you belong to me, and I can do whatever I want to you.” His tongue darts out to lick a short trail around my other ear before he sits up.
The way he's looking at me makes me feel so impossibly weak. Subconsciously, and maybe even consciously, I don't want to get up. I don't want to leave. All I want is to see what he's going to do next—hope that it involves kissing me and touching me and other things we shouldn't be doing.
Clarity visits me in brief spurts. For as much as I want him, this can't happen. When I try to sit up, though, he just pushes me back down. I give it a final try before surrendering.
He stands up, and I don't move. Then, to my surprise, he straddles my waist, caging me in place even more. The heat of his thighs touching my sides makes me very aware that his dick is only a few feet away from my face. My mouth salivates in response, and my cheeks burn from the realization that all I can think about in that moment is sucking him off.
As if reading my mind, he shrugs off his jacket and tosses it to the side before unbuckling his belt. For the briefest of seconds, I think about arguing...but who am I kidding. He has me exactly where he wants me, and I want to be here. The fact that he's so powerful and dominant has me turned on to the max. My injured foot is all but forgotten in the wake of what's happening between us—in the wake of thoughts of seeing him naked.
The black leather belt makes a zipping sound as he pulls it free. I expect him to toss it aside and work on his zipper next, but instead, he gathers my wrists and wraps the belt around them before clasping it in place. This is reminiscent of our time together last night. While I am bound, my bondage isn't so well placed that I couldn't struggle free if I wanted to. He remembers my preferences. At least, I think he does, and that makes warm feelings swirl inside of me along with the arousal that's quickly building.
Lucian crawls off of me before scooping me up again and positioning me further on the bed. At this point, I'm quiet, observing him with hooded eyes. I'm not sure what to say or do, so I don't say or do anything. I simply wait for what's to come.
“You're getting the hang of this.” He smirks at me as he reaches for the zipper on the side of my skirt and slowly pulls it down. Every move he makes is seductive, purposeful. “I like girls who behave.”
It takes everything in me not to say something snarky. Something like I'm only behaving because I have to. Because my job depends on it. It's not true though. I won't get fired if I don't land him as a client. Inside, I want to do what he says, want to see where this goes.
When he finishes unzipping my skirt, he starts to pull it down over my hips. I instantly avert my eyes and try not to cringe as I think of him looking at my less than perfect body, not like he hasn't seen it before. To help out, I lift my butt, forgetting about my ankle. Pain shoots though my leg, and I cry out, dropping myself heavily and cursing through my teeth.
“No, no, no, no, no. Don't do anything. I've got this,” his voice is soothing. As if momentarily switching back to doctor mode, he examines my ankle again, perhaps checking to make sure it's alright for him to continue seducing me. Pervert. You'd think that as a doctor, he'd realize that sexual aerobics probably isn't a good prescription for a sprained ankle. He's obviously selfish though, and as soon as he figures out that I'm alright, he pulls my skirt off the rest of the way.
I prop myself up on my elbows, l
ooking down at him. “Maybe this isn't the best time to—”
“Shh. I'm going to take care of you. Trust me.”
He's not going to let me go, I realize. With a sigh, I lay my head back, trying to get comfortable. His fingers curl around the waistband of my hose, and he begins to pull them down slowly.
When my hose are off and tossed aside, he leans down and kisses the top of my injured foot. “Are you alright?” he asks.
The tender gesture surprises me, and I'm not exactly sure how to respond. “Mhm.” I nod.
He moves to the other foot, kneeling in front of it, lifting it and causing me to bend my knee slightly before he begins massaging my sole. A wave of pleasure rolls through me, and I feel my muscles instantly relax from the delicious sensation of his strong hands pressing into me.
“Oh my God, that's magical,” I practically moan, letting my head fall to the side and my eyes close.
He works silently, placing his palm on top of my foot to keep it steady while his knuckles grind into my sole, making my toes curl. The massage is practiced and even, moving from my toes to my heel. Then he takes my foot between his hands and flattens it out, spreading the muscles. It's the longest foot massage anyone has given me, and it's only on the one foot. Now, more than ever, I wish I hadn't sprained my ankle so that I could get equal treatment on both feet. Then again, if I hadn't sprained my ankle, I probably wouldn't be getting a massage at all.
When he finishes with my foot, he moves up to my calf, scooting forward and having me place my foot on his thigh. “It's a bit difficult massaging your leg when you're lying on your back.”
“Do you want me to turn over?”
“No.” He shakes his head.
His hands continue their ascent, though the massage quickly becomes sensual as he goes higher up. Soon, he's making feathery strokes on my inner thigh, and I'm beginning to feel randy again. Each pass brings him closer to my silk panties. My mind swims with the memory of what he can do with those fingers, and I feel my hormones working on overdrive, making my pussy grow moist with anticipation.