Free To Sir by Rachell Nichole

the club. He wanted to yank her body more fully against his and press his erection to her center. Wanted to kiss those prim little lips and pin her body beneath his as he showed her she wasn’t as fucking vanilla as she thought she was.

Chapter Six
    “Come upstairs with me,” Chase had said, his voice a low command. As she let him lead her across the kitchen by the hand, her heels clacked on the hardwood floor, and her pulse surged. She was already so turned on she could hardly think straight, let alone have a real conversation. His touch had spurred her from note taking to plunging into the middle of a sex scene. She was weak. A weak little girl who couldn’t defend herself against the kind of pleasure spiraling through her.
    When her attention had snapped back to him at his moan, he hadn’t tried to hide where his hands were. It had taken every ounce of her remaining strength not to arch her back like a cat and send her own hands under the table. She was slick with need, parched with fear, and walking the tightrope of desire. She’d never been so freaking hot in her life. The accusation in her words when she’d said she didn’t trust him sounded real. Yes, she would blame him for making her feel like this. It had to be him.
    Even in her youth when she’d had an active sex life, she’d never experienced desire like this. It was one reason she didn’t seek out partners now as an adult. Sex hadn’t ever been too exciting, but rather awkward and dissatisfying. She’d mostly kept doing it through college to piss off her father.
    If this stinking book wouldn’t stop plaguing her, the only way to get it written would be with his help. Twenty minutes in his presence had already done some good. But God, she couldn’t trust him. She knew that. He’d stopped twice at her request, but what if she was too weak to tell him to stop a third time?
    What if it wasn’t really him she didn’t trust so much as herself?
    He paused at a staircase beside the fridge. She hadn’t realized it was there until he stopped. She’d been too busy staring at the ridges of his back muscles as he moved. He didn’t say anything, didn’t turn around, but his pause gave her an out. She wanted to be a coward, yank her hand away from him, and refuse to go upstairs. But her traitorous body wanted to follow him. And if she were perfectly honest with herself, so did her curious mind.
    She took a deep breath and whispered, “Let’s go.”
    She couldn’t see his face, but something told her he was smiling as he tugged her up to a long corridor. He kept her hand in his as her heart thundered out of control. A closed door to the right opened with a snick , and she gulped.
    This was like a mini version of the club. In his house. In the middle of suburbia. She blinked a few times, trying to reconcile the collision of different worlds, and she barely noticed when he led her inside and closed the door behind them. The blinds were drawn, and soft light suffused the space from three floor lamps. He released her hand and moved to the center of the room with stiff strides.
    “This is a personal playroom.” He opened a small chest at the foot of a four-poster bed and lifted the inside compartments. It expanded out, showing her several shelves of toys she wasn’t sure she could name. “These are instruments. BDSM play isn’t about these things.” He picked up a long dildo and waved it in front of him. Her gaze locked on the bobbing brightly colored phallus he swung around in front of him at hip level. It drew her gaze right to his crotch. Chase was definitely sporting a healthy erection. And he made no move to hide it.
    “These are tools.” He set the dildo down and picked up a small silver ball. “They’re like your pen and paper, or your laptop. It’s not the tools that are as important as what you do with them, and with whom.”
    He set the ball down and picked up another small device. He clicked it on, and it buzzed to life.
    “This little