Forbidden Ritual

  High-powered executive Imogen prides herself on being an independent woman who doesn’t need a man. She only yields when she’s with Giles, a younger colleague who shares her taste for domination and submission. He revels in watching her lose control, while she enjoys his powerful nature and an edge of pain to heighten her pleasure.

  Imogen is satisfied with their secret arrangement until Giles asks her try shibari, a form of rope bondage—the ultimate ritual in submission and display of trust. His request pushes Imogen beyond her comfort zone, forcing her to explore her boundaries and her relationship with Giles. He’s already her master in the bedroom, when she allows it. But can she let herself take their bond to the next level?

  Forbidden Ritual

  Saskia Walker

  Contents

  Forbidden Ritual

  Spice Briefs BPA

  Copyright

  Forbidden Ritual

  First he took off her jacket, then he unzipped her fitted dress, peeling away the outward signs of her everyday life. “This is what I want,” Giles stated as he undressed her, “the real woman beneath the high-powered persona you adopt for work.” Humor and passion glinted in his eyes. “It’s pretty hard to get past it, you know.”

  “Giles, please,” Imogen murmured, embarrassed by what she knew to be the truth. He had a way of exposing her in ways she hadn’t considered possible. “I need you.”

  He paused and smiled. Slowly, he shrugged off his jacket and undid his silk tie, then traced his finger around her erect nipple.

  Even through the sheer fabric of her black lace bra the touch was electrifying. Imogen’s legs trembled, her body hot with anticipation as Giles toyed with her. He squeezed the sensitive nub firmly between thumb and forefinger, looking deep into her eyes while he lit her right through with that deliberately provocative touch. Imogen leaned toward him, her lips parting with the need to have his mouth covering hers while he touched her.

  But Giles continued to take charge. He undid her bra, dropped it to the floor and then went for the handcuffs that he had left on the nearby dining table. Capturing her wrists in one hand, he clicked the cool metal into place, making his claim on her. Then he stepped away.

  She swayed unsteadily on her high heels, uncertainty swamping her.

  He strode to a nearby chair, undoing and abandoning his shirt as he went, then sat down. “Tell me something, Imogen.”

  She eyed his bared, muscular chest, and swallowed, hard. “Anything.”

  He kicked off his shoes and socks, each action like a deliberate stall. “We’ve been doing this for what…five, maybe six months now?”

  Was he bored with her? She clutched at the chain that held her handcuffed wrists together, needing to feel the galvanized steel links between her fingers to hold her emotions steady. “Six months and ten days.”

  He watched her every move.

  “How well do you think I know you?” He rested his elbows on his knees and observed her closely as he asked the question.

  She felt completely naked, even though she still wore her high heels, stockings and her black lace panties. Giles had teased her to distraction once he’d got her to his Thames-side apartment, and now she longed to feel the palm of his hand on her backside before he filled her. Had she become too focused on that, she wondered. It was always a possibility. His eyes glittered with anticipation as he awaited her response. It was significant because he knew how hard it was for her to verbalize her needs and to admit her fears.

  Her lips parted, and she ran her tongue over her lower lip before she spoke. “You know me well enough.”

  It came out in a whisper, because it pained her to admit even that much. There was a fierce and stubborn streak in her that she managed to quell when they were together like this, but it rose quickly to the surface if she had to think too deeply about what she was doing, what she was giving away about herself when she submitted to Giles sexually—a younger man, her junior and a talented spin doctor. There was a lot at stake.

  “Do I?” There was a confrontational tone to his question. “We have sex, but you leave my bed when I’d rather keep you in it. How can I know you when you don’t let me in to your private thoughts?”

  Somehow the sudden change in approach made her even more desperate for him to resume his attentions to their mutual physical needs. Between her thighs she throbbed with need. Her core tightened, aching to be filled—preferably while her bottom burned from the punishing slap of his palm as he worked her to climax. She tossed back her hair, forcing herself to breathe.

  Her lover had made her wait until her anticipation had built to fever pitch, as he so often did, but the nature of the question indicated how important the answer was to him. Giles always made her beg for it—which turned her on immensely, much to her initial surprise—but he’d never walked away from her before, and he’d never quizzed her like this when he’d already begun to undress and prepare her. Normally he’d stay close, his hands on her constantly, staying her urge to flee or to deny her need to be under his control. Why now, when she was so keyed up, was he examining her need to be independent after she submitted to him?

  Giles lounged back in his chair, somehow regal even though he was stripped to the waist and barefoot, his tailored trousers almost incongruous, given how easy this man was in his own skin, a quality she not only admired, but craved. His firm, sensuous mouth made her ache for him. Only he could do this to her, and it made her feel so vulnerable. His chiseled cheekbones and hard jawline seemed to be visual symbols of the inner strength that called to her. Here in his sparse bachelor apartment he’d revealed just how easily he could take charge of her, a woman who never gave in under normal circumstances.

  She braced herself. “You know I have to be this way. Your question is too…personal.”

  “I mean to be personal with you, on every level.” There was no hesitation in his come back.

  Again she swayed. His provocative stare had her skin prickling.

  One corner of his mouth lifted.

  Erotic suggestion hung in the atmosphere between them. “Please, Giles. You’ve got me in a state.” She tripped on her words, her rising objection making her speak before thinking. “I can’t think straight because I want you so much.”

  When he lifted an eyebrow knowingly, she looked at the floor.

  “I want you too,” he replied, “but the better I know you, the better this will be.”

  “It’s already too good,” she blurted, then bit her lip, realizing what she’d said. She was afraid of getting too deep, afraid that one day she would submit to him and lose herself totally.

  “It is good.” The hungry look in his eyes as he glanced over her body made her shiver. “But you deserve better than a quick shag at the end of your work day, and I want to give it to you.”

  What they did was hardly a quick shag, but it was true that their time together was something she engaged in between work and sleep, and that’s how she kept it compartmentalized in her life, just like everything else.

  He shifted in his seat, resting one ankle on the opposite knee as if they were having a casual chat about business and no more. “Now, tell me how well I know you.”

  Despite the directness of his comment, his commanding tone made her melt.

  Up until that moment she could have turned away, asked him to unlock the cuffs and let her leave. Not now. Not after he’d asked her again, and said it with such deliberate inquiry. It made something inside her begin to buckle. The truth of it was she didn’t want to leave, she wanted him too much. She thought they’d found a plateau in their
relationship, one that they were both happy with. Obviously not. His dominant nature and her need for an edge of pain to heighten her pleasure seemed to slide nicely along each other. Now he was pushing her beyond her comfort zone. How did he do that to her, she wondered. She’d been lured by his dominant nature, even though it was so far from what she really wanted out of life. To be an independent woman who didn’t need a man, that was her goal.

  “I’m not even sure how well I know myself,” she whispered. It felt like a confession. She stared at his chest, broad and hard and dusted with fine dark hair that tapered into a thinner line leading her gaze from his breastbone to the button on his fly. What she knew without any shadow of a doubt was that when he claimed her, he owned her. In the throes of passion she was his willing submissive, and it was this edgy feeling before she gave in to it, this tight, breathless anticipation he caused in her that made every encounter so darkly delicious. She couldn’t risk falling, though.

  Giles seemed to sense her hesitance. “Your feminine strength fascinates me,” he stated. “You go after everything you want but you always move on, fast, and that concerns me.”

  She felt her face heating. That was how she worked, but he wasn’t just talking about work, that was quite obvious. By day she was a high-ranking government minister, and Giles was a press officer who had broken through her self-imposed isolation. She’d devoted herself to her job. The intense encounters he offered had become the only ripple in her orderly life, a treasured hour-long reprieve from being proper, formal and dignified. “I’m highly motivated, I have to be, but what’s your point?”

  “My point is that even powerful people can grow by challenging themselves.” He clasped his fingers together, his hands drawing her attention, her skin aching for the touch of them. “You might benefit from more…restraint.”

  The way he said that indicated he’d thought it through. A darkly suggestive glance flitted through his eyes, and his handsome mouth pursed slightly as he considered her.

  Her sex swelled. The nape of her neck felt damp. “You’re suggesting more than the cuffs?”

  He nodded.

  “But we agreed, the cuffs for…what I want.” The flat of his hand on her backside before and during sex.

  “Yup, we agree. Simple as that. A trade, a nice neat business transaction where everyone gets a fair deal.” He smiled at her knowingly. “But now I want you to let me tip your scales.”

  Heat flared at her center, but she shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Giving him total control over her was something she couldn’t allow to happen. She began to twist her wrists in the cuffs, wanting them off. The idea of finding her clothes and ending this was tempting, because it was easy. Then she let her gaze wander over his body. Even when fully dressed his expensive clothing barely concealed his obvious strength. Half-naked, the very look of him was enough to dampen her panties. Bulky with muscle, he made her feel supple as a rag doll in his hands during sex, melding her to his body, bringing her to orgasm time and time again.

  Giles shook his head, allowing her to feel his scrutiny. “You’re an inspiring woman, but even when you come it’s as if you’re always holding something back.”

  Breathing had become difficult. His words struck a note with her and she recognized herself in what he said. Lord, he does know me. He was right. She held back because she didn’t dare do otherwise. This man was her junior, and eight years younger than her.

  “Seeing you on the edge of losing control is such a turn on for me,” he added. “I enjoy bringing you to that point.” He smiled, and it was filled with dangerous charm. “I’m enjoying watching you now. Your eyes are dilated, and your skin is flushed. Your nipples are diamond-hard.” He moved his fingers, gesturing at her upright form while he sat in the chair, observing her. “You’re racked with sexual tension. It makes me want to break it apart from inside you.”

  The way he described her sent her aching sex into overdrive.

  Then he rested one hand over his belt, a casual gesture but one that made her glance at his groin, where he was hard beneath his zipper. Frustration bit into her. How could he be so in control? He was younger than her and a testosterone-fuelled man, and yet he obviously enjoyed working her to fever pitch before giving her what they both wanted. Subtle confidence oozed from his every pore. It was what had drawn her to him in the first place. The sense of presence he created in a meeting was profound, even when he was quiet and watchful.

  “I’d put money on your underwear being very damp,” he added.

  Her skin raced with sensation, the thrill of his words touching her everywhere, inside and out. She wanted him to fuck her. But he was making her listen, controlling her with his intimate, knowing words.

  He looked at her hands. Her fingers were meshed, the cuffs chinking as she fidgeted fretfully, her hands hovering close to the surface of her panties where her clit was swollen and pounding. He didn’t miss a thing. “How wet are you?”

  She didn’t need to think about it. Her underwear clung to the groove of her pussy. The fabric would need to be peeled away from her aroused folds. She shifted her weight from one heel to the other, her eyes closing as she replied. “Very wet.”

  Tension filled the air between them. She wanted him badly, wanted him inside her where her body was begging to be filled. She took a step toward him.

  He shook his head, drawing her to a sudden halt, then gestured at a chair to her left. “Put one foot on that chair, open your legs and show me how wet you are.”

  His commanding tone left no room for maneuver, but action meant reaction. They were getting closer to what she needed, what they both needed. Swearing under her breath, she followed his instruction. As she lifted her foot and planted the stacked heel on the surface of the chair, she drew her cuffed wrists close against her lower abdomen and saw the way his eyes darkened as she exposed her panties.

  “Oh yes, you are wet.” His lips remained apart as he stared at her. “Touch yourself.”

  She rested her hand over her pussy, rubbed one of the metal cuffs over her mound, and groaned aloud. Her clit leapt when the pressure of the metal rolled over the fabric covering it.

  When he rose to his feet, her level of expectation shot higher still, leaving her breathless, dizzy and swaying. He padded across the floor, bare feet silent. When he stepped close against her, her heart thudded so hard she thought she might crack. Her sense of balance was quickly lost and she shifted her raised foot back to the floor, her heel slamming down hard.

  “Easy now,” he said, then rested his thumbs in the band on her panties. His breath was warm on her face and her back arched, her hips gravitating toward his on instinct.

  He squatted in front of her and rolled her underwear down over her hipbones, growling quietly when her pussy was exposed. She stepped out of the panties. When he stood, he kissed her fiercely, his tongue claiming her mouth. Meanwhile he stroked her pussy, squeezing it in his hand, sending her clit wild. She whimpered, entirely locked to his actions.

  He moved his right hand to cup her buttock, squeezing the flesh in his hand.

  Her skin prickled with anxiety. She inhaled deeply.

  “Bend over the table.” He grasped her by the shoulders and turned her round, bending her over the dining table and pressing her down onto it, his hands roaming over her exposed buttocks as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

  She slumped gratefully over the table, her bottom lifting. As soon as she was in position he delivered a sound slap to her buttock. The sting and the suddenness of it made her shudder. He kissed one shoulder, a fleeting anchor that made her glance back at him. When she met his stare, he gave her a wicked grin and spanked her again. Each sting fuelled the need for more physical contact. Heat speared from the points of contact, as if each strike connected with the pounding pulse that had been raging inside her.

  “Giles!�
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  “Yes, you love it, don’t you?” He traced his fingers across the sensitive niche at the top of her thighs, making brief, maddening contact with her pussy. Then he pushed her legs farther apart with a demanding knee. “Let me see you.”

  Pleasure, pain and shame quickly engulfed her, swamping her with another wave of desire. He ran a knowing thumb back and forth over her clit. Her body was so wired that she reached orgasm moments later, crying out with relief. She was still shuddering when she heard the sound of the condom wrapper being torn open. He opened her up with two fingers and eased his cock inside her, capturing her as she ebbed back from the edge, quickly sending her back to it again.

  “Giles, so good,” she whispered in relief, suddenly filled with him, her innards melting with pleasure and clasping him gratefully. When he brushed against her buttocks it sent shock waves through her. Her body was singing. She grasped at the table for anchorage, her cuffs rattling against the wood surface.

  He kneaded her flesh, hauling her buttocks apart, his cock nudging deeper into her swollen pussy. He groaned with pleasure as he bent over her back, sliding in and out, filling her to the hilt.

  “Oh yes.” She shuddered with sensation, her hands clawing for the far edge of the table.

  “Good?” he murmured against her back. When she moaned agreement, he thrust again. “Is this just a game to you, a bit of rough play, or does it mean more?”

  He stroked her hair back, encouraging her to turn her head.

  “Giles…please.” She put her cheek to the bare wood of the table, giving herself over to him.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” Her hips lifted and she pushed back, offering herself, but Giles rested his hand on the small of her back, stilling her and keeping her under his control.

  The slow deep thrusts hypnotized all of her senses, leading her into ecstasy.

  He breathed close against her ear, his thrusts slowing. “What do you see, over there on the floor?”