Free Taken by the Billionaire by Kendra Claire Page B

hallway pitch-black but for one nearly burned-out candle flickering weakly in a black, wrought-iron sconce.
    Peter led me down the long, dark hallway toward his own bedroom at the far end, and with each step I felt myself growing more and more excited. What was he planning? This was different, somehow, from our usual trysts; Peter practically radiated desire tonight as if he couldn’t bear to wait until morning.
    He held the door open for me—ever the gentleman at least until the trousers came off—and then quietly closed it behind us. My heart skipped a beat as I heard the sound of the key turning in the lock, the telltale click of the bolt engaging as Peter locked us in. Of course it made sense that he’d lock the door—he wouldn’t want anyone walking in on us, no matter how unlikely that was at this hour of the night—but somehow hearing the click of the lock stand out against the dead silence of the night only added more kindling to the fire of excitement lighting up inside me.
    A lamp glowed feebly on the bedside table, but even in the dim light, my eyes immediately caught the satin gleam of the deep red corset lying on the bed.
    “Let me guess: you want me to put that on?” I purred playfully, pointing at the ribbed lingerie. He nodded back to me, his eyes filled with animal desire, and I felt as if he might start to drool if I didn’t satisfy his desires soon.
    The corset straddled the line between fashion and play, lacking both the floral embroidery of the styles I’d consider wearing with an outfit and the shoulder straps and push-up cups so often seen in sexy lingerie corsets. It was good enough for me, though… I didn’t expect that I was going anywhere in it anyway, and Peter’s hungry gaze turned me on in a way I hadn’t expected. I just knew he’d imagined me wearing this corset and was practically begging me to put it on.
    Its red satin sheen glowed in the flickering lamplight as I picked it up from the bed and motioned for him to turn away. I didn’t care about him watching me undress from a modesty standpoint now—certainly not after all the fun we’d had over the last few days—but I felt like it’d be sexier for him if he didn’t get to see me put it on. I wanted to make him wait and imagine what I’d look like when he turned around again. I was going to be a present for him to unwrap, and until I said he could turn around, he’d just have to cope with agonizing fantasy.
    My pajama pants slipped down my legs, baring them to the cool night air and exposing my black underwear. The black cotton was a good match for the deep red, I thought; it didn’t have the same satin sheen as the corset, but in the darkness of the bedroom, it was a close enough match. My tank top followed shortly after the flannel pants, and the combined set of my pajamas made themselves comfortable in a pile by the door as I wrapped myself into the corset.
    It was remarkably close to the right size, I thought as I adjusted the corset so that my breasts were comfortable and weren’t being squeezed. Even the cups were the right fit, to my surprise. cups and tucked my breasts in so they were comfortable. Right fit or not, though, I’d never been able to cinch a corset properly once it was on me. No matter how many times the girl in the store showed me that stupid trick with the doorknob, I’d still screw it up. I’d need Peter’s help.
    “Peter, you can turn around if you’ll help me tighten it,” I whispered, and he excitedly spun around to see me. His eyes lit up, and I could tell he liked what he saw.
    I turned away from him and stood still as he pulled the strings tight at my back. With each tug at the strings, I felt another part of the corset squeeze in snugly, hugging tightly to the curves of my body and, thanks to the lack of ribbing, molding to my shape instead of forcing me to change. I felt incomparably sexy in this corset, and the mirror hanging on the wall agreed with me.
    “Close your eyes,”