He stared at me, his expression dubious. “Effective internal communication?” he repeated slowly.

“Remember when I said I could make you come without touching you?”

Now his expression was just downright incredulous—and immediately turned on. His pupils were dilating, I saw as I stepped closer to him. Those damn fiendish lips parted, his breath shaky as it moved over them. I didn’t have to look down to know that he was probably growing harder in his designer wool pants.

With a lot more bravado than I felt inside, I began unbuttoning his shirt. He remained still as a statue, as though afraid of spooking me.

“I don’t think you can do it,” he finally said as I slipped the last button through and opened his shirt.

He was probably right. It was an impulsive, stupidly provocative thing for me to promise on the drive back from the mountains, and I was glad he hadn’t taken me up on it at the time. I surely would have failed. The thought lingered in my head like a sinus infection, though, and I’d spent a little time at night reading online ways to talk dirty.

Because Brian Gage made me want to be dirty.

My fingers moved to the fastening at his waist, until his hands wrapped around mine to stop me and hold me back.

God, he had a gorgeous body. For someone who sat behind a desk ten hours a day, he sure didn’t look it. Over lunch one day he’d told me that he got up early—like dark o’clock early—to work out, which at the time I thought was just insane. Why give up sleep to sweat? But now I could see the results, and would wholeheartedly encourage his healthy routine.

He was lean without being skinny, built without being bulky, and the faintly olive tone of his skin made the ridges of his abdominal muscles stand out like speed bumps. His nipples had pebbled up under my perusal in the cool air of the office, and when I dared to take one in my mouth he shuddered. Goosebumps spread across his sternum.

“God, Maddie.”

It was so rare for me to hear my nickname in his voice that it sent shivers up my spine. The few times I remembered hearing him say it were intense moments, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“You’re still touching me,” he pointed out.

This was true. He groaned as I hooked my first two fingers in the waistband of his pants and led him over to the couch. “Have a seat. Wait!” Before he sat down, I deftly undid his pants, his hot length bulging against his boxer briefs against the back of my hand. My throat went dry. “I’ll be right back.”

I pushed him down to sit. Then I dashed out to retrieve the scarf I’d stuffed inside my laptop bag and, thinking quickly, a spare pair of panties from the zipped front pocket. Remembering to lock the door again when I returned, I found him sprawled on the black leather, his white shirt hanging open and his arms stretched out over the back of the couch. His legs were spread a little, and his dark trousers and briefs almost hid the impressive bulge below his waist—almost.

He looked like what he was—a powerful, insanely hot, dominating, fuckable billionaire.

Seriously, he looked like a book cover that I wouldn’t want people to see me reading on the bus. And he was mine, at least for now. My heart jumped and my stomach flipped when my gaze skimmed over his perfection to find his blue eyes twinkling at me.

“Do your worst, Madeline.”

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have said that,” I said. Before he could react I wound my scarf around his head in a makeshift blindfold.

“Hey!”

“You’re the one who said that being able to see wasn’t that important, Gage. Tit for tat.” I tweaked his nipple.

He gasped then chuckled with obvious amusement. “Okay, then. I still don’t think you can do it.” He was ready to triple dog dare me, from the sounds of it.

Swallowing the nerves swelling in my throat, I plopped down beside him. I’d missed being close to him that week, and for a brief moment I drank him in. This could either be really fun, or really dangerous. Or both. Leaning close to his ear, I blew a soft stream of air down his neck. His shoulders hunched in reaction.

“I’m not touching you,” I sang.

“Your breath is. I still think it’s cheating,” he complained, but he couldn’t stop the grin from taking over his face.

“I haven’t told you the rules yet—how could it be cheating?”

He tilted his head toward me in acknowledgment. “So what are the rules?”

I was making this up on the spot, more or less. I tapped my fingers against my lips, thinking quickly. “Rule number one: I cannot touch you with any part of my body.”

“Okay. I can’t see you or touch you? This should be interesting.”

“Rule number two: you can touch yourself. In fact, I would like to see that.”

He smirked. “I bet you would.”

My core spasmed. I squirmed a little on the couch, rubbing my thighs together underneath my plain black pencil skirt.

“Is there a rule number three?” he asked.

“We can both talk.” I paused. “That’s about it.”

“So basically you want me to jerk off while you talk dirty to me?”

His shoulders pressed back against the sofa and he slouched a little. The bulge at his center expanded as he spread his knees a little wider.

“Gage, you make it sound so… hot.” A bubble of delight grew in me. Maybe I could be spontaneous and have control. The revelation made my mind spin off into different directions. Which rabbit hole would I dive into?

“Okay, I’m game,” he said simply. Without any hesitation or modesty, he reached into his pants and pulled out his cock.

“Well?” he said expectantly.

“Gage, I’m impressed.”

His chin rose, but his cheeks reddened a little. “You damn well should be.”

“Not every man can wear a pink striped blindfold and make it look sexy.”

He growled at me. There was something hedonistic about a powerful man dressed in a suit and tie, holding an impressive erection in his hand.

“I’ll tell you what, sir. Why don’t you imagine that I’m taking off my clothes here in front of you? I’m unbuttoning my tight little skirt and letting it fall on my hips a little. Oh, you can see my little pink panties!”

His moan gave me the courage to go on, and his hand slowly moving on himself gave me confidence.

He didn’t need to know that I was actually wearing granny panties.

“God, I love your cock,” I told him. “It’s so long and thick. I’m not even sure if it will fit in me.” I cranked my intonation up a little, to sound younger and more innocent. “It’s so big! It might hurt my poor little pussy.”

“Fuuuuu—” His hand moved faster and he flopped his head back against the couch. “Madeline, you’re in so much trouble after this!”

“My sweater is getting so itchy, Mister Gage. Do you mind if I change in your office?” Without taking my sweater off, I shoved my hands underneath and experimentally squeezed my breasts. “You should really turn the air conditioning down, sir. My poor nipples are so hard and tight—you can see them poke through everything I wear.” I shivered audibly for effect, watching him also tremble.

“You’re a bad, bad girl, Madeline,” he said in a low voice.

“I know. You’re going to punish me, aren’t you, sir? Oops! My skirt fell off! Now I’m just in my panties, and they’re so wet. I bet you want to bend me over your desk, don’t you sir?”

His hand sped up, and the muscles in his jaw popped as he ground his back teeth together. The crown of his cock was slick with arousal, and I wasn’t joking about my underwear—they were soaked. I didn’t dare take off my skirt, either, for fear that I would actually try to mount the man against my better judgment. My thumbs brushed over my hard nipples, making me moan out loud.

“You can bend me over your desk and peel my damp little panties off, down my quivering thighs. I know that’s what you’re thinking about, isn’t it? You said once you wanted to ‘blister my ass’ for misbehaving.”

“Ungh.”

“I’m waiting, sir. I’ll take my punishment and count the blows. Go ahead, raise your hand and spank me.” Deciding to improvise, I smacked my hand down on the thick leather armrest. The loud noise made him jump and hiss, his hand tightening on his weeping cock.

“One!” I whimpered a little after I counted. Focusing on his erection made me sigh again, for real this time. Wow, this was really kind of fun. Gage looked painfully aroused, teetering on the edge and frustrated beyond belief. He shifted in his seat, panting my name.

As I inhaled deeply, Gage’s left hand rose unconsciously and as I yelled out “Two!” he slapped his palm against the couch.

I jumped and gasped in honest surprise, my heart sprinting towards something dark but playful. My mind blanked for a second, and I had to remember what I was doing and why I was doing it.

“Is my ass getting all hot and pink, sir? I can feel my juices running down my thighs. Did you know that would happen? If you spank me one more time, I might come,” I teased him.

His hand rose in the air again, his rosy lips twisted into a devious smirk. I eyed his throbbing cock. It really was impressive, and the evidence of his arousal made my own body heat up to a rolling boil. How far did I want to take this?

If this was going to be a real demonstration of control, I could try to persuade him not to come—that he wasn’t allowed to come until I said so. That idea was intoxicating. Then again, the prospect of watching him lose control made sweat trickle underneath my bra and my throat tighten.

Would he be more frustrated by the lack of control or the lack of orgasm? Either way, it was hot, and more than a little empowering. I decided that he might have been on to something with the whole ‘taking control of your destiny’ thing.

His breathing was ragged now, and his strokes lighter and slower. He was trying to calm down, I figured. Gage didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of being right, which made me even more determined to win this little game. I wracked my brain to think of the kind of stuff I’d read in smutty books.

“Oh god, sir. My pussy is all tingly, what are you doing to me? I promise I’ll be good! I’ll respect myself and not say nasty things. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come, please.”

Apparently I wasn’t above pretend begging, although the throbbing lower down in my body was very, very real. With a shock I realized that dirty talk was doing it for me, too.

“You’ll come when I tell you to, Madeline,” he said harshly. “You have to take your punishment before you get your reward.”

My belly clenched at his words. My punishment and my reward seemed to be the same thing, and I was perilously close to losing control myself. I shook my head, trying to slough off the haze of lust that was fogging up my plan.

His flat hand hovered above the couch, waiting for my prompt. He held it high and even in the air, but I detected a faint tremor in it. This naughty game was affecting us both way more than I had expected it to. Two flushed spots high on his cheekbones were blending into the pink of the scarf around his eyes, and he bit his lower lip again before soothing it with his tongue.

“Such a good girl with your panties around your knees and your ass in the air for me,” he crooned. He sounded genuinely grateful, if not also choking with arousal. “Just one more, baby,” he promised. “One more and then I’ll take care of you.”

My breath hitched and my mind raced. He was turning it around on me. I was just as horny from his dirty talk as from my own. What should I do? I gulped back a sob that was almost totally fabricated while I stalled for time.

Damn you, Google! You didn’t prepare me for this.

“I don’t think—”

“Last one, Madeline.” His right hand tightened around his shaft, his brow furrowing at the top of the scarf as he concentrated.

I was out of time, and my thighs were actually sticking together now from my own arousal flowing. My chest felt tight, my voice small. “Please, sir! I swear to god I—”

His hand came down with a thundering crack before I was really ready, making me cry out in surprise. “Ahhh!”

My body jerked with an uncoiling sensation, like a spool of ribbon unfurling. It wasn’t quite an orgasm but something had reacted deep within me, confusing me.

“Maddie! Fuck!” He grunted, arching his back, his thighs flexing. Control. I wanted more control.

In a totally spontaneous and thoughtless move that I would later regret, I thrust my hand between his legs and clamped my fingers around the base of his huge, angry cock. Under my hand I felt his hot balls tighten and his cock pulse, and then his hand clutched mine in violent shock.

“Fuck! No no no!”

He went rigid, his breathing harsh and the tendons of his throat sticking out as he shook with the force of his almost-orgasm. I’d held him back, leaving him high and dry. The redness in his face had spread down his chest, and his flat, ridged belly contracted hypnotically as he chased his climax.

I’d heard that men could come without, uh, coming, but it was startling to see it in action. With pincer-like fingers he pried my hand off him. I swallowed hard as he yanked the scarf off his head with his other hand.

“Ow.”

He held my hand hard. The expression on his face was even tighter. I offered him a weak smile, which he didn’t return. The way his lips curled up wasn’t so much a smile as it was a grimace.

“What. The fuck. Was that?” His eyes had darkened to murky sapphires and he was practically hissing.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. “You told me to take more control, right? Besides, I broke the rules and touched you, right? And you said before that you wanted to come inside me the first time. So it’s only fair that you—”

“My god, Maddie. You’re in for it now.”