Anything He wants

The day passed horrifically slow. Every moment was spent pining for her, poring over the pictures from the night before. The way her creamy skin was caressed by the light, the contrast of the dark,

textured leather against her slender neck.

She was a prize, and he couldn’t help but touch himself as he stared at her.

His favourite was one where he was looking down on her slightly, and there was a pensive look on her face. Her plush lips a bit pouted, her cheekbones prominent beneath the blindfold, her collarbone peeking out from the loose blouse.

It was an innocent picture, but one he felt captured her. That struggled desire, that curiosity, the line between being a girl and a woman so tentatively crossed.

She was more perfect than he could ever have imagined, and he smiled in anticipation of more.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Ryan,” Aubrey started, and his heart began to thud. The way his name rolled off her mouth was exquisite, and he looked at her curiously over the dinner table. Just like they were family.

“Yes, Aubrey?”

“Last night…” She swallowed and his eyes were drawn to the way the motion made her slender bones flex and move so fluidly. Everything about her seemed designed so carefully, so lovingly. It was hard for him to believe that her parents didn’t appreciate how lucky they were to have her.

“Go on, Aubrey. I won’t be mad, I promise.” His green eyes flashed at her and he took a sip of tart wine.

“It was weird, wasn’t it?” Oh, how delicately she phrased that, as if she truly didn’t believe the words. As if she wanted his reassurance.

He stood from the fine wood dining chair, closing the distance between them and staring down at her. Careful, he reminded himself. Play it slow. Get inside.

His large hand reached out, gently cupping her jaw and letting her look up at him with those wide, expressive eyes. They looked almost fake, so vibrant a shade of green they were, and the bit of mascara she wore brought them out even more.

“I don’t think it was weird at all. Modeling is a fine profession, and I think you have what it takes, if you don’t mind my saying.” He smiled at her, leaning down and pressing his nose to the top of her blonde hair, smelling his own shampoo in her soft tresses.

He lingered there, the smell of his soft cologne wafting towards her nose before he pulled back slightly. “You are a gorgeous young woman, and I think those photos I took of you were some of the best I’ve ever taken.” The compliments he paid her were genuine, and he let the truth seep out of him just a touch.

She looked cautious at first when he touched her, when he kissed her. It was hard to get a read on why, but the relief in her gaze spoke to her own darkness. His heart leapt when it occurred to him that it was something she kept hidden, deep inside, and his gentleness was teasing it to the surface.

“But it’s not really modeling,” she protested, and he knew what she was asking. It was sexual, wasn’t it? The collar, the bindings, the blindfold…

She wasn’t ignorant to the sensuality of the display, and his heart pounded. He wanted her, but he needed to bide his time. To wait. To be patient.

His fingers trailed through her hair, tucking it behind one of her beautiful, fragile ears, and he leaned down on one knee so he could look her in the eyes. So that he could see her reaction in vivid detail.

She sat primly with her knees together and her billowy skirt flowing over her legs to shield them.

“It’s a special type of modeling,” Ryan said, cautious of his words. “And it takes a special type of person to get good at it.”

“But people will see them and…” she struggled for the words. She was still a newborn fawn, needing his guiding hand. To train her, to teach her about this strange new world she was so frightened of, so curious about.

“No one needs to see them if you don’t want.” Ryan’s face softened, and his voice was so calm and reassuring.

“But I already spent some of the money!”

He realized she was practically in tears, her eyes glittering with all of her pent up emotions, and he couldn’t help it. He pulled her to his chest, into the finely tailored dress shirt, into his personal space.

His hand stroked along the back of her head and she started to sob louder, harder, and he kept petting her, cooing. Easing her through a rollercoaster of emotions he could never hope to comprehend.

But when at last she pulled away, his shirt soaked, her face red, he kissed her forehead once more. “Listen,” Ryan said softly, “that money is yours. I don’t need it, and if I just spent $500 to give you a little piece of mind, I’d do it again. You don’t have to do anything.”

She looked at him through blurred eyes, and he saw something there. Something lurking at the back of her mind that needed coaxing out, luring out of its hiding spot. Something that only he could see.

“But if you want to have me take your photos again, I would like that very much.”

So many things raced across her face he had a hard time keeping up, but he knew that she wanted it. And wasn’t that what someone like him was able to do? Find those hidden fears and drag them into the light of day, confront them? Make them go away, if only for a while?

And Aubrey’s eyes were haunted with things she wouldn’t yet name.

“I don’t know,” she said cautiously, and Ryan wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

His hand trailed from her head down to her shoulder, squeezing it.

“It would be good for you.” His voice was commanding, with a bit of a hardness to it that belied his gentle gaze. “And there is nothing wrong with wanting it.”

Her body stiffened a bit and she stared at him in shock, as though he’d just read her mind. Her mouth parted and he saw that soft, pink tongue within. Oh, how he longed to suckle that, to bite it, to make her body and mind contort as pleasure and pain mingled and danced.

“Tonight you may rest up, but tomorrow, after class, I want you to come right home to me. I’ll be waiting, Aubrey.”

“Yes, Sir.” The words were out of her, instinctually. As if they’d been beaten into her as the correct response when given an order, and it sent an illicit thrill through him. She was a natural. He’d known it from the moment he first saw her.

He smiled, kissing her forehead once more, hand lingering on her soft, feminine flesh a moment. “Good girl.”