Wolfe's Lair Read online

  Now he’d mentioned it, it was warm in here, but whether that was down to the central heating or the heat we were producing between us, I had no idea. Seeing how incredibly sexy he looked standing there in his shirt and waistcoat – with his hands in his trouser pockets and a heavily lidded expression – I was inclined to think the latter.

  I shrugged off my own jacket, placed it on a chair along with my bag, and turned back to him. Was this really just going to be something to help my research? Or had Oliver just used that as a ruse to get me alone? Did I care either way? I guess I’d find out soon enough.

  ‘So, let us begin.’ Oliver drew in a deep breath and walked to one of the bookcases behind him. He pulled something from a shelf and turned to me. My eyes dropped to the item in his hands and my blood immediately turned ice cold.

  It was a riding crop. ‘Uh … I don’t think so,’ I replied, immediately taking a step back and ready to make my exit.

  Oliver rolled his eyes. ‘Give me a little credit, I’m not going to hit you, Robyn.’ He gave a dry chuckle. ‘This was actually meant to put you more at ease, but perhaps I should have explained first, before picking it up.’ Walking towards me, Oliver held the crop in one hand. He used his thumb to tip my chin back, so I had to drag my eyes away from the leather shaft and make eye contact with him.

  My heart was racing so hard I felt light-headed, and my legs were trembling, but the sight of his steely, confident gaze somehow grounded me. ‘You asked for me to be on my best behaviour, but seeing as touching you seems to spark some sort of reaction between us, I thought perhaps you would prefer it if I minimalised the amount of physical contact.’ He was admitting that he felt the chemistry, too, which thrilled me, but I still couldn’t quite shake my attention from the shaft in his hand.

  ‘I was simply going to use this –’ he held the crop up and waggled it ‘– to give you directions instead of touching you with my hands.’

  Oh. OK. I had asked for him to be on his best behaviour, but the idea of him not touching me made me feel a little bereft.

  ‘May I start?’ he enquired, looking genuinely interested in whether I was going to see this through or bolt for the door. It was a close-run thing, but eventually I nodded. ‘Yes. Sorry.’

  As soon as I had spoken, Oliver seemed to transform right before my eyes; his posture became even more perfect, his shoulders pulling back, making him impossibly taller and broader somehow. His face took on a calm but stern expression and he pulled his hand from his pocket and folded his arms across his chest. He screamed power, and I suddenly realised that he was showing me his dominant self.

  It was an incredibly impressive sight, not to mention seriously hot, and one that took my breath away.

  ‘During a play session you would usually be expected to call your Dom Sir or Master. Perhaps you should do that while we are in here, just to give you an idea of how it changes the dynamics of your feelings. My preference is Sir.’ Even his voice had changed, dipping slightly lower than usual, and oozing authority to such a degree that a shiver ran down my spine.

  Sir. I knew about the title from some brief reading I’d done this week, but I couldn’t quite decide how I felt about using it. Dropping my gaze, I shrugged. ‘Um, OK.’

  ‘OK, Sir,’ Oliver immediately corrected me, and my head snapped up to look at him again. I’d been expecting to see a smug smirk, showing how much he was enjoying winding me up like this, but Oliver simply stood observing me with the same look of cool interest on his features.

  Hmm. Maybe he really was just trying to give me a full experience for my research. Clearing my throat, I nodded once and licked my lips. ‘OK, Sir.’

  ‘Better.’ He nodded his acceptance of my adjustment and took one step back from me. ‘There are no truly fixed rules between a Dom and Sub, because each couple, and each Master, will have their own preferences, but there are some things which are fairly standard that we can work through to give you an idea.

  ‘Trust is vital in a Dom/sub relationship. Without it, the experience simply is not the same for either party. If this were the start of a real relationship we would ideally do some training first to develop a bond of trust between us, but for the purpose of tonight’s session, let us assume we already have that trust.’

  Oliver didn’t know about my usual caution with men, otherwise he’d have realised how much I already did trust him. I couldn’t quite understand it myself, but I did. I wouldn’t be in a private room with him, about to do God knows what, if I didn’t.

  ‘I’ll start by addressing your question downstairs about the man kneeling. It is a fairly standard ready position used in the lifestyle to show your submission to your master. Some people call it the kneeling position, but if you were mine, and my submissive, you would know it as ready position one.’

  If I were his. As crazy as it sounded, the phrase definitely held some deeper, carnal appeal to me.

  ‘Kneel.’ It was barely a sentence, and he didn’t say please, but something within me had me complying instantly as my legs crumpled of their own accord and I found myself kneeling at his feet before I’d barely even thought about it.

  He let out a raspy hum, which sounded approving, and made me smile. ‘Very swift, good girl.’ His compliment was accompanied by a brief stroke to the top of my head, which caused me to gasp, partly from surprise, but partly because of the tingles that ran across my scalp, skittered over my skin, and settled somewhere deep in my core. Almost as soon as the gasp feathered across my lips, the contact was removed, and he stepped back. ‘My apologies, I forgot myself. I shall attempt to limit my physical contact from here on.’

  That hadn’t been why I’d gasped, but seeing how aroused I already was, keeping our physical interactions to a minimum might be the only way I would survive this without blurting out something ridiculous, or begging him to fuck me, which, right now, was exactly what my body was craving.

  ‘Now, head held high, please … Good … and eyes towards the floor. Perfect.’ The crop suddenly came into my vision and I watched as the leather tab moved between my knees and gave a gentle tap. ‘Knees spread a little wider.’ I complied, and immediately heard another hum of approval. The tab of the crop was then trailed up my body, teasingly touching across my leg, belly, and chest. He took his time, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Oliver were imagining that it was his fingers touching me instead of the leather. I certainly was. Finally, he slid it over my arm and gave a small tap to my shoulder. ‘Shoulders back. Hands on your thighs.’

  Once I was positioned to his exact specifications Oliver walked a slow lap around my body, before pausing in front of me again.

  ‘Feel how it opens you up to me?’ he asked, his voice low and silky, and only adding to the bubbling desire within my stomach. I did feel it. I felt like I was displaying myself to him, just for his pleasure, and it was an undeniably potent sensation. ‘If you were naked, your breasts would be thrust forward, and I’d have a perfect view between your legs.’ With these words, his voice dropped, the tone now seeming to vibrate right through me. More specifically, it vibrated right between my legs, and I swallowed so loudly that it seemed to echo around the room.

  Oliver walked another slow trail around me, then crouched behind me. He wasn’t touching me, but I could feel the heat of his body radiating against the thin cotton of my top, and I had to close my eyes for a second or two to try to get a grip on myself.

  When he next spoke, his breath whispered across the skin on my jaw, telling me that he was leaning right in beside me, and must only be maintaining his “no touching” promise by a mere hairsbreadth. ‘If you were mine, Robyn, my preference would be that you only open your legs if you were before me, because I can be extremely possessive, and the idea of others seeing your pussy …’ He paused, letting the word hang in the air, before drawing in a shuddering breath. ‘Well, quite frankly, it makes me feel murderous.’

  Good God. This was all too much. I was sweating, throbbing between my legs, and aroused bey
ond anything I’d ever known before, and for some crazy reason, his proprietary talk was only enhancing that feeling. I should be running a mile from a guy who talked about me like I was a possession, but with the way my core was twitching and my heart pounding, there was no denying how turned on I was.

  How turned on Oliver was making me.

  On some deeper level, I wanted to be his. The problem was, I was totally out of my depth here. I’d only ever had standard relationships, “vanilla” as Oliver had termed them, and while the thought of venturing down this path with him might be thrilling, it was utterly terrifying, too.

  It was that fear that had me lurching to my feet and turning towards the door. ‘I need to go.’ I was so overstimulated that my body felt leaden, and I staggered, crying out as my legs buckled and I began to tumble towards the floor.

  Oliver slid his strong arms around my waist, preventing me from hitting the ground, and dragged me back against the security of his firm chest. I was suddenly surrounded by his strength and scent as he lowered his face close to my ear, and in my over-sensitised state it felt like he was completely blanketing me with his warmth.

  ‘Wait. Breathe, Robyn,’ he instructed me softly. ‘Breathe.’ His voice was almost hypnotic. ‘Breathe.’ As he began to rhythmically murmur the word I followed his instructions, drawing in air over and over until I gradually felt myself calm in his arms.

  ‘That’s it. Good girl. Nice and steady.’ His whispered praise warmed the skin of my neck, and made me quiver in his tight embrace. It also filled me with the urge to turn in his grasp and bury my face within his chest, but I didn’t.

  ‘OK, now?’

  ‘Y–yes, Sir.’ After I had spoken, it occurred to me that I had added the title without even thinking about it.

  ‘Good. Let’s move to ready position two. Stay standing and widen your legs.’

  Just thirty seconds ago I had been intent on leaving, fleeing from here as quickly as my wobbly legs could manage, but there was something in Oliver’s tone that was so persuasive, so alluring, that I found myself complying and widening my stance.

  The supporting arm around my waist shifted, and after making sure I was steady, Oliver left me standing on my own and moved before me. Our eyes met and that now familiar jolt of connection flared through me, causing me to suck in a small, shocked breath. Oliver’s eyes widened briefly, as if noting my response, before a small smile flickered briefly at the corners of his lips.

  ‘As before; back straight, eyes down.’ My body was now obeying Oliver on autopilot, and I responded before I’d even decided if I wanted to or not.

  I heard another hum of approval, presumably at just how quick my reaction had been, then he used the tab of the crop to tap lightly on the insides of my thighs. ‘Wider, please.’ I shifted my feet a little more until I saw Oliver nod from my peripheral vision. ‘Perfect.’

  He stood right at the edge of touching distance, the crop being used as an extension to his arm, but still his presence was like an overwhelming cloak around me. It was utterly intoxicating.

  Just when I started to think that I was now coping quite well with all of this, he trailed the crop up the inside of my thigh, following the seam of my jeans and making my insides clench. That light touch from the leather had my legs wobbling again, and I dropped my head, my eyes closing as I tried to pull in a full breath.

  A sharp sting on my right breast had my eyes opening again, and I yelped, whipping my head around to find that Oliver was now standing to my right with a small frown on his face and the crop floating just inches from my stinging breast.

  ‘You dropped your shoulders,’ he informed me calmly, presumably explaining why I’d received the harder snap to my nipple. It had worked, though, because I’d straightened my back out again pretty quickly.

  ‘Better. Eyes down.’

  I dropped my gaze, trying desperately to control my erratic breathing, but rather than moving the crop, Oliver gently laid it on my breast again and lightly circled it over my nipple. My already strained breathing hitched another notch, until my quick, aroused pants puffed from my lips and around us. Oliver repeated his teasing circle, and even though I was wearing clothes, the sensation caused heat to rush to my cheeks and a wave of dizziness flooded my overworked brain.

  This had surely gone beyond the line of research now, hadn’t it? He was basically caressing my breast, albeit with a crop, and not his hand. And yet I wasn’t telling him to stop. I didn’t want him to stop. I was so turned on that if I stayed any longer it wouldn’t be surprising if laid myself out on the desk and begged him to take me.

  A ragged moan rattled through the air, but it was only when Oliver moved behind me and once again slid an arm around my stomach to support me that I realised the desperate noise had come from me.

  I was panting and moaning, very audibly. Not to mention so aroused that my knickers felt soaked through. I was trembling, too, so much so that I moved my hands up and gripped at Oliver’s forearm to try to ground myself. I should probably have been trying to peel his arms off me and run away, but I didn’t. I gripped tighter, soaking up the calming sensation of his strength. His skin was hot, and the hairs felt almost wiry to touch. Then, before I could stop myself, I found my hands tentatively exploring the way the muscles bunched and wrapped around his forearm.

  ‘You’re so affected by me.’ It wasn’t a question; Oliver murmured the words as a mere statement of fact, and, irritatingly, I couldn’t deny it. I was affected by him. Impossibly so.

  ‘I … uh…’ But my stuttering attempt at a reply was halted as he leaned down close to my ear.

  ‘I think all of this is turning you on. It is, isn’t it? The idea of letting yourself go? Of trying something new and unknown?’ His hot breath shifted the hair by my ear and tickled my neck so deliciously that I shuddered slightly and leaned closer. ‘Do I turn you on, Robyn?’ But all his questions were obviously rhetorical, because he didn’t bother to wait for an answer for any of them before continuing, or perhaps the keen responses in my body were all the answer he needed. ‘I think I do, I think you’re wet between your legs already, aren’t you? Wet, and slippery, and wanting.’

  Oh – my – God.

  This was dirty talk on a whole new level. His words had me so aroused that I was practically quivering. No, wait … I was quivering. My hands, arms, stomach, damn it, even my thighs were trembling with what I could only assume was intense physical arousal. I’d never felt anything like this in my life, and he’d barely touched me.

  What with my panting, moaning, and trembling, I probably didn’t make the most attractive sight, but there was nothing I could do about it. I was the living personification of desperate and needy, but oddly enough, I didn’t care at the moment. My entire world was currently focused on Oliver and the things he was saying.

  ‘Am I right?’ he enquired silkily.

  Yes, yes, yes. But I didn’t say it. I couldn’t bring myself to admit it out loud, not yet. I was wet because of him, and I was intrigued by the way that he lived his life. Well, his sex life, at least. In fact, I was slightly jealous of the way the people here approached their sexual desires with such careless abandon, but that didn’t mean I would be joining them.

  He ran his fingers slowly and distractingly across the light material of my blouse, almost but not quite touching me, until every hair on my body stood to attention and I wanted to scream for him to give me some proper contact.

  ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ Maintaining his hold on me with one arm, Oliver snaked his other hand around my waist and slowly trailed it down my body until it rested on the zipper of my jeans. I might still be fully clothed, but the heat of his fingers seemed to burn through the denim as he ran them down the zip and across my clit, and my head fell backwards onto his shoulder.

  ‘Dios. You’ve soaked right through your jeans. Do you want more?’

  I had no idea what “more” he was referring to, but I desperately wanted the climax that was burning just out of
my reach and found myself answering breathily. ‘Yes … Please, Sir.’

  The seam of my jeans was so perfectly positioned over the sensitive bundle of nerves that, as he pressed again, my clit pulsed and my channel convulsed in response, greedily begging to be filled. Oliver had barely even touched me, but as he repeated his circling just a few more times I suddenly felt my muscles clench, and a wave of pleasure rush up on me, and I cried out as I found myself coming, my back arching and fingers clawing at his forearm as a climax rushed at me with such power that it turned my legs to rubber.

  Oh. My. God.

  That had been impossibly fast, and so potent that my whole body was thrumming with pleasure. I felt drunk on the high, my channel clenching as I came down from my release, and a moan pushing up my throat as my head lolled uselessly on his shoulder.

  I wasn’t the only one affected by the moment. The evidence of Oliver’s arousal was pressing persistently into my lower back, and the feel of his erection brought home to me what I’d just allowed him to do to me.

  As I stood there stewing in a confused mess of thoughts, he continued to work me down from my peak with his fingers, all the while holding me firm against the strength of his body with his other arm. Neither of us spoke, or made any attempt to move, so, finally, I persuaded my slack muscles to reconnect.

  Lifting my heavy head from his shoulder I stared forwards, trying to work out how that had all got so out of control so quickly. But I couldn’t find any good reasons. Other than the obvious one – he’d asked me if I’d wanted more, and I’d said yes. I’d begged him. I never begged for anything, but ten minutes alone with this man had reduced me to a confused mess begging for a climax.

  Oliver was seriously skilled with whatever the heck this was, not to mention dangerous for my heart to be around. The ease with which he’d made me explode in his arms showed me just how addictive he could be if I let him in, and I doubted I’d ever recover from something so potent once it ended.