Sweet Seduction Surrender by Nicola Claire Page A

getting. Admittedly, I was confused. Why would he want me to strip naked and lie on the bed? And wait? And what was he thinking saying I couldn't touch myself? As if I'd do that with him in the next room and at any moment walking in on me on the bed.
    "Kate," he pushed. "Don't think. Just do."
    Oh. Right. OK. I nodded my head slowly, still holding his intense gaze.
    "I..I'll go then?" I suggested.
    "Don't touch yourself," he repeated, for some reason thinking that command was the most important of all.
    I frowned at him, but got up off the couch, suddenly on shaky legs, and walked back-stiff out of the room. I almost shut the door to my bedroom - I mean, I was about to strip bare - but he hadn't told me to do that. So I didn't. I also forced myself not to think, and just slipped my silky robe off my shoulders and let it glide to the floor. The feel of the delicate fabric floating across my skin sent a shiver down my spine.
    My eyes closed and I had to breathe through my nose to stop my body shuddering. For crying out loud, it was just a piece of material.
    I glanced back over my shoulder, but Jason hadn't followed me into the hall. I could hear him channel surfing again. My frown deepened. I stood there for at least a full minute, listening to the channels on the TV changing mid sentence, again and again and again. He wasn't coming. At least he wasn't leaving that settee just yet.
    I shook my head and returned my eyes to the bed. A soft glow of light came in from the hallway, but I hadn't switched any illumination on in my room. Jason hadn't told me to, and I was guessing this game - it seemed like a game and if I thought of it as a game it kind of made sense - was all about me following instructions clearly. No deviation, hence the repeated "Don't touch yourself" command.
    I huffed a breath of air out and climbed onto the bed. My knees felt cushioned by the duvet cover, my hands automatically curled into the soft, thick fabric beneath them. I stilled on all fours on top of my bed, unsure what to make of the fact that everything felt... more. More texture. More sensation. Just more.
    I continued my crawl up the bed, not wanting to be unprepared when Jason came in the room. And being prepared meant having carried out his instructions... to the letter. I rolled over onto my back and let out a slow, shaky breath as my skin came in contact with the cool surface of the linen. My butt wiggled involuntarily, as though trying to make a cavity in the bedspread to cradle itself within. But it was more than that, I couldn't quite grasp it yet, but my body wanted something else my mind wasn't prepared to acknowledge just yet.
    Although I could still hear the distorted sound of the changing channels on the TV from out in the lounge, in my room everything seemed unnaturally quiet. The lack of any ambient noise around me made me hyper-aware of my breathing; how it sawed out of my chest as though I'd just run a marathon, when all I'd done was walk from the living area to my bed.
    I tried to settle my respirations, all the while trying to slow down my heart rate, but my mind kept getting distracted by the scratch of the material beneath my skin. My fingers gripped the duvet cover, scrunching it up, and then flattening out, seeking friction, sensation, a positive response to a need I couldn't quite grasp.
    Minutes passed. My breathing became more controlled, but my heart rate was a lost cause. And my need to move was excruciating. Jason told me not to think, to just do. But my mind had stalled on his last instruction: "Don't touch yourself."  
    I let a long, slow breath out through pursed lips. I felt so vulnerable lying here in the semi dark, completely nude. Waiting. And I felt rebellious because of it. How dare he order me around and expect me to do exactly as he demanded.
    I lifted my head and peered out into the hall. Still no Jason, but the TV was flicking through its channels every few seconds. How would he even know if I disobeyed