Free Management Skills by January Rowe Page B

wraparound surplice dress. The dress fell open, revealing she’d worn no undergarments.
    “Counting on getting lucky?” he growled.
    “Yuh.” She was nearly beyond speech, hot and needy.
    He pulled the dress off her shoulders and arms, allowing it to drop to the stone floor. She kicked off her wedge sandals. She stood naked, her nipples tightening into hard points.
    He jerked her arms up and snapped her wrists into a pair of hanging iron restraints. Her arms were now loosely anchored to the ceiling. One of his gloved fists slid down the very center of her nude body, stopping at her belly ring. She arched into his touch, excited by the delicious contrast of his strength against her vulnerability.
    “The walls are so thick,” he said. “Nobody can hear you beg.”
    She groaned. She didn’t want to have to beg.
    He fixed a satin blindfold over her eyes. She was now blind and bound. The sensation was both delightful and unnerving.
    “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, “while I make preparations.”
    She heard his footfall. He was moving away from her. His suitcase opened. Fragrances of candle wax, of burning wood, of hay intermingled. She tested the shackles. If she tried, she could easily slip out of them. Not that she ever would. But if she leaned, she might be able to rub her naked body against her owner while he did whatever he was doing. She tugged. She could hear him breathing nearby. She caught his scent of cedar. But she still wasn’t close enough to touch him.
    “Stop distracting me, Mine.”
    He sounded genuinely irritated. He was getting hot. If she could get him to drop his iron self-control, maybe he’d abandon his infinite, teasing foreplay and fuck her where she stood.
    Bound and blind, she intended to push his buttons. She made whimpering sounds of desire, moving in her restraints as only an exotic dancer could.
    “You are way too sexy for your own good,” he snarled.
    He unsnapped her wrists from the restraints. He carried her, still blindfolded, to a flat, hard surface. She assumed it was the rack, now covered with soft fabric.
    “Now be good,” he said.
    She refused to be good. She lay on her back, continuing her erotic display. Arching, offering, gently sighing, making herself so hot she couldn’t bear it.
    She had no idea if he was ignoring her—or drooling. He continued his preparations.
    He shifted her limbs so her arms were at her sides and her legs straight. Like a soldier. Something softly brushed against her bare skin, starting from her shoulders all the way down to her toes. The sensation was sexy as hell. Her head swam.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    “Covering you with oil.”
    He was going to give her a massage. She squirmed with delight.
    “Stop wriggling,” he said. “Now breathe delicately, Allie. Don’t flinch. Don’t move.”
    He made her chest sting, right below her collar. She gasped, surprised by the pain. The pain resolved into a wonderful tingle. A river of intense warmth traveled down the valley between her breasts.
    “Oooh,” she said with a rush of pleasure. “Wax play.”
    He continued dripping wax on her nude body.
    The burning liquid splashed onto her upper breasts to drip over her nipples. She twitched in pain, but soon felt only a hot pulse. Melted wax poured onto her tummy and down through the juncture between her legs. The liquid set her pelvic area on fire. She groaned.
    She gave herself up to the sensations. Patches of concentrated heat, followed by warmth. Blind, her body surrendered to his sweet control. Her Owner would take care of her. All she had to do was enjoy it. Her breathing turned shallow, her mind reached serenity. Heat, soothing and erotic, continued to spread all over her skin. Her arms, her thighs. Grant’s meticulous wax bondage soon encased her. She felt indulged and secure.
    He lifted off her blindfold. She blinked, struggling to re-connect with the visible world. Her eyes focused. On Grant. He stood over her, his