Over His Knee, Part Three by Hannah Ford
Chapter 2
LILLIANA
Grayson has taken two steps back, his dark eyes appraising me as I undo the top button of my shirt. My hands are still shaking, and my lips feel swollen from how he was just kissing me, and my body is burning bright, as if ever nerve ending has somehow come alive at the same time.
I finish unbuttoning my blouse and pull it down over my shoulders, suddenly self-conscious. I’ve seen the women Grayson has been with – supermodels and actresses, women so beautiful they seem as if they’ve been airbrushed into existence.
“Lilliana. Shirt off.” His voice is a command, and I shift slightly on my feet, glancing over my shoulder again at the door in the corner, the one that I’m now almost positive leads to The Cell, the place that was mentioned in the contract.
When Submissive is summoned to The Cell, she will arrive promptly, ready to serve the Dominant’s sexual needs in any way required.
I drop my shirt and it puddles on the floor.
“Now your bra.”
His gaze drags over me, causing shivers to break out across my skin. My hands are still trembling as I reach behind me and unhook my bra. I drop it quickly to the floor and then immediately cross my hands over my chest.
“Lilliana.”
“Yes?” I close my eyes, not able to take it anymore, the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s making me feel. It’s too intense.
“Show me your tits.”
My blush deepens at his dirty words, but I take a deep breath and then drop my arms. My eyes are still closed, but I hear his sharp intake of breath, and immediately my arms cross over my chest again.
“Look at me.”
I open my eyes.
Grayson moves toward me, taking my arms and forcing them down to my sides.
His eyes lock on mine. “God, you are beautiful.”
I want to protest, but something makes me think this would displease him. And that’s the last thing I want to do. So I instead I whisper, “Thank you.”
He kisses me again, that same way, as if he’s been put on this earth to kiss me, as if this is what I’ve been meant to do for the rest of my life. His five o’clock shadow rubs against my jaw, rough and hot.
His hands reach behind me and undo the button and zipper on my skirt, sliding the fabric off my hips until it pools on the floor, leaving me completely naked.
He steps back and surveys me like I’m a priceless painting, something to be cherished and looked at with reverence.
But if I’ve had any illusions that he’s going to treat me like I’m fragile, they’re dispelled a second later when he says, “Now get on your hands and knees and crawl to that door.”