“Next month, it’s finally here,” he said, his voice thick. “Can you wait that long?”
Her eyes were hard. “Of course I can. I’ve been waiting for a while. What’s another two weeks?”
“But those two weeks could be maddening.” He slid the leather loop of the riding crop down her leg, making her sigh.
“Not at all. I’m living it, anyway.” She shook her hands against the silken ropes as if he needed the confirmation.
“Oh?” He asked with the riding crop poised in mid-air. A question. A potential. “But I’m not a billionaire with six-pack abs.”
“No, you’re not. But you’re better than that.”
The riding crop slowly lowered and teased one of her nipples. “What could be better than a billionaire with six-pack abs?”
“Reality. Christian Grey is in the books and movie. He’s a fantasy. That’s nice, but reality is so much better.”
The riding crop suddenly slashed up, then down, and smacked her thigh — making her jump from the surprise and the sting.
“Good answer,” he said.
He sounded much calmer than how she felt, with her heart thumping and her breath swiftly arriving and departing. This wait was far more maddening to her than seeing a movie based on a book that she had enjoyed. The movie was going to eventually happen. As was the riding crop, and to prove that, the crop’s head was taking its sweet time sliding up her leg, starting from her ankle. Her heartbeat quickened as the leather loop moved upward, the head of a slithering snake, intent on traveling to her core, as if it could see right into her and knew the poundings of her lust and her heart.