Release Me

engine.
    He parallel-parks expertly and kills the engine. He doesn’t, however, get out. I eye him, my teeth scraping over my lower lip. “Are you going to come in?” I’m suddenly afraid that the punishment he has in mind is to not touch me at all.
    A predatory spark flares in his eyes. “Oh, I’m coming in, all right.”
    I exhale in relief, then suck in sharply with confusion as he reaches behind his seat to retrieve a thin leather case, like a briefcase, only smaller. He smiles enigmatically, then exits the car with the case. He’s at my side before I can figure out how to work the locking mechanism. He pulls open the door, then takes my hand and helps me out. It’s all very proper and polite—and that’s making me even more nervous.
    What does he have in store for me? What is in that damn case?
    My fingers shake as I insert my key in the lock. Damien’s proximity and promises have done quite a number on me. I think I’m more aware of my body than I’ve ever been, and every part of me is taut and tense with excitement, nervousness, and anticipation.
    Once we’re inside, I stand awkwardly in the room, not quite sure what to do now. It’s a strange feeling considering all we’ve done together, not to mention the fact that he’s already seen the apartment. But I feel like a teenager inviting a boy home for the first time.
    Jamie is still at the spa, so we have the place to ourselves. Damien shares none of my hesitations; he strides right to the dining table and puts the case down. I look at it, expecting him to open it. He doesn’t. He just stands there watching me, his inspection so intense that I feel the urge to fidget.
    I don’t, though. Instead I stand perfectly still, my chin tilted slightly up. This is part of the game, and right now my role is to wait.
    Damien strokes his chin, his head tilted sideways in the manner of a museum patron inspecting a classic work of art. His words, however, lack the sophistication of a museum excursion.
    “Take off your skirt.” The force and command in his voice is undeniable.
    I look down; I don’t want him to see my smile.
    The skirt has an elastic waistband, and I ease it over my hips, then let it drop to pool around my feet. I step out of it, but I keep my sandals on. Damien hasn’t told me to remove those.
    “Now the shirt.”
    I pull the loose blouse over my head and toss it on the table. I’m naked now, illuminated only by the glow of the nightlight burning by the bathroom door.
    Damien doesn’t shift position at all, but I hear the slow sound of him drawing a breath. And though it may be my imagination, it seems to me that the air between us is heating up. I know that I’m suddenly very, very warm.
    “Kick off your shoes, then spread your legs.”
    I do, then stand still with my legs parted as he walks slowly around me as if I’m some slave girl for sale on a dais. He makes two circles around me, and on the second he pauses behind me. He slides his hand between my legs and cups me from behind. His fingertip brushes my clit, and my flesh quivers in his hand. I bite my lower lip and close my eyes to keep from moaning. It takes every ounce of my willpower for me to remain still.
    “Do you want more?” he asks, his finger slowly caressing my sex.
    “Yes.” The word comes out raw and strangled.
    Slowly, he pulls his hand away and circles back to face me. “Go to your room and get on the bed.” He leans in close, and his lips brush my ear as he speaks. “No touching. I need your promise, Nikki. And this time I need you to keep it.”
    I nod. “Okay.”
    He looks at me, then slowly lifts an eyebrow.
    “I mean, yes, sir.” I want to ask him when he’s coming to the bedroom, too, but I know better. I go, I lie down, and I wait, expecting him to enter with that mysterious case.
    I am crazy with need, with longing, with that damned anticipation. I’m flushed and hot and swollen. My breasts and my clit are so sensitive that I think I’ll come if the air conditioner kicks on. I want to touch myself with wild desperation, but I remember Damien’s words, and I keep my legs spread and my arms wide, afraid that if I don’t lay like that I’ll be tempted to squeeze my legs together in an attempt to find satisfaction.
    The position doesn’t help my distress, though. It only makes me hotter. There’s something so exciting about being wide openfor Damien. My nipples are tight and hard, almost painful. I long to feel his teeth graze them, to