Forbidden Ritual Page 2

  She was so close to coming, but he ran his knuckles along her jaw then pointed. She blinked and focused. A black lacquered box stood against the wall, and a length of rope spilled out of it onto the floor. She hadn’t even noticed it before, so focused was she on him, her lover. Now she saw it, and she knew what he’d been leading her to. “Oh God.”

  The crown of his cock massaged her deeply at her center, as if his arousal grew in response when she looked at his offering. She moaned loudly, unable to hold back.

  “Rope bondage-shibari. It’s the ultimate ritual. If you offer me yourself completely and allow me to bind you, you would be showing me how much you trust me.”

  “I can’t,” she blurted. Even as she said it, she wanted to know what it would be like. Images of being totally bound filled her mind. She thrust her cuffed wrists right across the table, and her core clamped hard on his shaft, her hips rolling back into his.

  “Oh, yes, you’re interested. Your body always gives you away, my dear.”

  He’d set it up to test and tempt her, to introduce her to the idea.

  She shook her head.

  His cock reached. His hand on the small of her back exerted more pressure. That only made her buck against him all the more. Desperate for release, she writhed against the hard surface of the table, her body needling all over as she hovered on the brink of release.

  “You want to feel that rope against your skin, don’t you?” The immense amount of self-control he was using was palpable in the atmosphere. He was holding back in order to tease her with this suggestion.

  Imogen couldn’t take it anymore. “Maybe. Not yet.”

  He kissed the back of her neck. “How well do I know you?”

  There was humor in his tone now, and she bucked against him, edgy with conflicting emotions.

  He chuckled darkly and eased his cock out, leaving her bereft. “How well…?”

  She cried aloud. “All right, yes!” She blurted out the acknowledgement, her frustration spilling over. “You do know me…damn you, you know me better than I know myself!”

  Blinking back tears of frustration, she whimpered, hiding in her hair as it fell across her face, thankful he didn’t respond verbally.

  Instead he locked his hands on her hips and began to drive and thrust with real purpose, speeding them both toward the peak. As she blossomed into climax, her body awash with relief, she stared across at the rope all the while, wondering, wanting, and yet afraid of what it meant about her—what it meant about them both.

  * * *

  Two days later, Andrea—Imogen’s personal assistant—deposited a stack of files on her desk. “I have those documents you requested.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There’s also a package for you. Anything else you need before I head off?”

  The package lay on the top and was marked for her attention only. Imogen recognized the handwriting, it was from Giles. Her pulse tripped. She smiled at Andrea and shook her head. “No, we’re done for the day, thanks.”

  Once she was alone she picked up the package. She was due a set of press release statements about changes in the department, but the envelope was bigger than she’d expected. When she opened it she found the paperwork, together with a plain black box marked for her attention only. She turned it over in her hands, savoring the thought that he’d handled it, that he’d sent it to her. That was how much she wanted contact with him, and that alone made her sigh with longing. Just two days without that connection made her feel slightly unreal and disjointed. It was as if he’d become an anchor to her. How had that happened?

  When she was sure she wouldn’t be interrupted, she removed the tape that sealed the box. A note rested on top of the tissue paper inside.

  I know you are curious, I saw the way you looked at it. I didn’t want you to be afraid, so I’m sending you this sample. Feel how soft it is, how malleable. I had it made especially for you. It’s the same color as your eyes when you reach climax.

  If it doesn’t appeal to you, that’s fine. I just want you to consider it, because my feeling is that this will be a gift of freedom for you and I want to give you that gift, and so much more.

  Yours, Giles.

  Imogen put the box down on her desk and stared at it.

  After a long moment she teased the tissue aside with a trembling finger, and looked at the skein of electric-blue rope lying in the box. Just looking at it made her go hot all over. She crossed her legs, attempting to quell the interest in her groin as she imagined him naked with the rope in his hands, standing over her as if she were a creature to be tamed. Ironically, he said it was her spirit he wanted to unleash, the unfettered side she only showed when she abandoned herself to sex, to him. Bondage did do that to her. She thought it was just the edge that spanking added to her experience, but he’d been right. Handing over control took her further into abandonment, heightening her pleasure.

  He was taking a big risk though, because he was exploring her boundaries and both of them knew she wasn’t sure how much further she wanted to go. Risks, wasn’t that what life was about? Imogen stared at the box and smiled wryly to herself. Her job was all about risk and making judgments about policy, and yet she was so much more cautious when it came to exposing herself to this man. Why? Because I care about him. As hard as it was to admit, there was more to it. If she gave herself completely, she might get hurt.

  When she’d been preparing to leave after their previous encounter, he’d cupped her face in his hands. “I’m taking a risk here.”

  He smiled quickly. It’s what he’d said to her the first time he indicated he was interested in a relationship outside of the office. “Let me know if you’re ready to let me introduce you to shibari,” he continued. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  Curious thoughts had plagued her ever since, even though she tried to keep her mind off it, and now he’d sent her this, something she could touch and hold against her skin. She stared at the snake-like coil and pictured the rope stretched taut between his hands. She trailed her fingertips along the edge of the box and allowed herself to consider what he would do with it. It was more than her wrists that he would bind, she supposed. She would be powerless, completely at his whim. As that thought occurred to her, she had to rest her back against her chair. Every ounce of strength left her body when she considered the effect that might have on her. Giles was already her master, when she allowed it. Could she let herself to acknowledge it more than she already had?

  She closed her eyes and recalled the thrill she’d experienced when he’d first approached her. The attraction between them had existed from their first introduction. Then one day he’d spoken to her privately as he’d been leaving her office, and he’d reached for her hand and lifted it to his mouth, brushing it with his lips before releasing it. Before she’d had a chance to react or to speak, he looked into her eyes. “I’m here for you. If you want me, just let me know.”

  She’d been shocked, and undeniably aroused. His hand touched her back briefly. It made her skin sizzle and the pit of her stomach fluttered eagerly. She’d longed for his hand at her back more firmly. Then he’d smiled and turned away, leaving her breathless and clinging to her door handle—awash with physical and emotional feelings that she’d thought long buried.

  For a whole three days she’d resisted, debating whether it was right or wrong, while her body heated as she imagined what it might be like to be with a man like him, one who seemed so confident and knowing. She’d been single for ages, after being married young to a man who didn’t respect her choice of career. They’d split after three years of disagreeing about what her role in his life should be. After that she’d grown a thicker hide and vowed herself to her job. It was lonely, and sometimes she’d had a fling. Never with anyone she worked with though, and never for very long. And now Giles said he wanted to keep her in his
bed, overnight. A younger man with a taste for exotic sex.

  Imogen sighed deeply and stared out of her office window, trying to ignore the corridors of power that surrounded her and her obligation to all of that. She had to keep her head—she couldn’t afford to mess up playing with a colleague. What had been a friendly arrangement about sex had morphed into something else. The kinky sex made her think he played the field and it was going to burn out in due course. Now she wasn’t sure what to think, especially because it was he who was asking the heavy questions. She turned back to her desk.

  “Is it just a game?” he’d asked her.

  No, it meant more, a lot more. She’d fallen for him, but she wasn’t ready to say that yet. It was too hard. Reaching into the box, she pulled out the sample. Was this the next step, would this bring her closer to freedom?

  Running the slender hemp rope through her fingers, she let her imagination run with images of ritualized erotic sex, characterized by domination and submission. Pleasure was what he gave her. Giles was the best lover she’d ever had. Only fear was stopping her from discovering what it would be like to give him that level of control during lovemaking. That was what this was about. He’d offered her sex and she’d gone after it. Risk assessment? He just wanted to play. Her lover was a thirty-two-year-old man and she, at forty, just had to enjoy the hot sex while it lasted. She would regret it if she never tried what he was offering. She could stand the thought of being alone, but not with regrets. Hell, at least I’ll have the sexy memories.

  The sample was less than three feet long, but long enough for her to hold and turn in her hands. The rope was soft to the touch but when pulled taut it became firm and strong. With one heel on the floor she shifted her seat from side to side, edgy with arousal as she considered it. Then she put the rope against the hemline of her knee-length skirt, and pulled the skirt up with the rope. Her sex ached, desire flaring wildly, taking her over. She rode the string up as far as her stocking tops, to the place where the tops of her thighs were bare. The rope made her skin tingle wildly, and her clit throbbed.

  The need to touch herself became urgent.

  With her hand inside her panties she squeezed and rubbed her clit, the rope Giles had sent her clenched inside her palm. What am I doing? she wondered, feeling dangerously out of control. She had her hand under her skirt and she was touching herself, in her office. She’d never done that before, but Giles had driven her to it. As she brought herself to climax, the rub of the rope across her tender flash seemed to mock her for her earlier resistance.

  What would Giles do with the rope?

  I have to know.

  * * *

  By the time she arrived on his doorstep she could scarcely keep her breathing level. She’d wanted to run straight over to his place, but she’d ordered herself an hour to cool off. In the end she’d managed to wait all of thirty-five minutes, but it was an important time, time to get her thoughts in order. Or as much in order as possible, given the circumstances. Her emotions still swung wildly and she was torn between the desperate need to be there and see it through, and the urge to take flight. She rapped on the door before she could change her mind. All I have to do is enjoy the sex.

  After a few moments the door swung open and Giles stood there. “You came.”

  “Yes. I came.” Now show me.

  His mouth lifted at one corner and he nodded. Not smugly though. It was just an acknowledgement, for which she was grateful. He leaned one shoulder up against the door frame. His hair was wet and he wore jeans and a casual T-shirt that clung to his chest as if he’d just got out of the shower and his skin was still damp. To all intents and purposes he was totally chilled, but the glint in his eye as he assessed her was both predatory and stimulating.

  One hand tightened on the strap of her shoulder bag, the other went to the button on her jacket, locking onto it. He watched her every movement, as if each and every thing she did was important to him. Nervous butterflies gathered in her stomach. It wasn’t just that he was attractive and powerful-looking. He had that elusive quality of a man in control. It made her self-aware. Mostly she forgot herself in her daily duties. Giles did not allow her to forget she was a woman, one with needs. And yet he looked as if nothing would ruffle him. Ultimate control — how could she not admire that?

  He closed on her. Arousal pulled heavily inside her, heating her body through, making her skin sizzle and her fingertips twitch. He held her gaze, not allowing her to look away. Tension filled the air, clinging around them like static. He was reading her. He knew she’d opened the box and that she’d come here willingly. She felt it, and it set loose a wild fluttering at her center. The recognition was there in his expression. She saw desire there too. It was blatant, raw and incredibly powerful. He wanted her, and he was glad she’d come to him.

  “You’re ready to take this to the next level?” His voice was low.

  She nodded.

  He put one finger under her chin, looking deep into her eyes. In that one touch he conveyed his authority. It made her wet. “You’re going to have to get used to me looking at you if there’s going to be rope involved.” Then he moved closer still, so close she could feel his breath on her face, and he ran the backs of his knuckles down the front of her throat, stroking her skin as if he were admiring her. “You’re going to look so good adorned in rope.”

  She shifted from one foot to the other, the touch of his hand making her nerve endings go crazy. A muted gasp escaped her lips, and he caught her stare, holding it. They were on a precipice, she could feel it.

  Giles shifted his shoulders, rolling them as if he was limbering up. His rising passion was palpable in the air around them. That made her realize that he’d been holding something of himself back, just as she had. Her legs went weak under her as she considered that he hadn’t even begun with her. “Giles, please…I confess that I’m a little afraid.”

  “Don’t be.” His eyes shone darkly, as if he relished her confession.

  It made her pussy tighten with anticipation.

  “I’m here to look after you. I think I know what you need, but if I ever do anything you don’t want, just tell me.”

  Imogen swallowed then nodded. She knew his sense of justice wouldn’t let him take advantage of her, not unless it was what she wanted. Then his fingers moved beneath her hair, and he pulled her in against him, kissing her hungrily.

  She heard the thud of her bag as it fell to the floor. Her hands locked around his head as she gave herself over to him. With urgent fingers he hitched up her skirt, grasping her bottom in his hands, pushing aside the flimsy fabric of her panties so that he could touch her skin. Mercifully she heard the door click shut. He lifted her from her feet, pressing her back against the wall as he held her easily. She grappled with one hand for the skirt, hitching it higher still so that she could wrap her legs around his hips. As she did, he ducked his head to kiss her throat. Her head fell back against the wall and she circled her hips, making contact with the bulky erection inside his jeans. His teeth grazed her throat before he shifted and arranged her in his arms. She clung to him gratefully as he carried her into the bedroom.

  “I want you so much,” she murmured against the hard column of his neck. She felt delirious as she said it.

  He put her down at his bedside.

  The curtains were closed, but the windows beyond were open and the curtains lifted on a warm breeze, making odd patterns of light shift through the darkened room. When light moved over the bed, she saw several piles of slender blue ropes, each neatly arranged in a figure of eight. They rested on the black linen sheets as if he’d known she would come for them.

  She nodded at the bed. “I see you were expecting my arrival.”

  “I like to be prepared.” Walking around the bed, he observed her from several feet away, studying her intently.

  “That’s why you do so wel
l in your work.” She meant it. Part of his talent was anticipating what might be needed. But for a moment he seemed to take her comment wrongly.

  “Imogen, I wasn’t sure you’d come, but I hoped.” The serious look in his eyes assured her he hadn’t taken it for granted. It was as if they each mirrored the resistance, the fear, in each other.

  That made her want to reassure him. She undid her watch and put it down on his bedside table. “I’m here because you made me want to know.”

  He nodded. “Show me how much.”

  Something about the way he was hanging back, watching and waiting, made her want to ask him to do what he had to do to show her the way. She felt like the novice here, even though she was older. But he always makes me beg. Yes. Perhaps she wasn’t so gauche after all. They were both learning each other. That’s what it was all about. Kicking off her heels she took off her jacket and unzipped her skirt. Calm down, she told herself. The truth of the matter was she couldn’t get her clothes off quickly enough. After she’d given way to her doubts and overcome them, she had to know what it would be like.

  She was down to her stockings when he lifted the first rope from the bed, unfurling it as he did so. He ran the rope through his hands as he watched her undressing. It snaked across the floor between them with one twitch of his arm. She paused in the act of rolling down her stockings, then pushed them off even more hurriedly. His brows were drawn low over his eyes in concentration and his mouth was set firm. Everything about his posture showed that he was pacing himself.

  He is going to tie me up and then fuck me, and it will be good. The words kept going back and forth in her mind, like a mantra. It was meant to calm her, but it did nothing of the sort. Here in his room where she had climaxed time and time again and the scent of his aftershave swamped her senses, everything conspired to make her more eager. By the time she was fully naked, she was trembling.

  “I’m ready,” she whispered.