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Those Swiss
bastards should have been on their hands and knees, kissing your shoes, and
grateful for the chance to humble themselves before you.”
    She laughed. What a thought. Even in the midst of sex and heat
he could entertain her.
    “Uh-oh,” he said softly, placing a finger over her lips, light
as thistledown, to silence her. She might be a goddess, to be worshipped and
groveled to by the Swiss execs, but Patrick was her god, to be obeyed. “Now, behave yourself and get on with the task in hand.”
    Miranda experienced a pang of loss when the finger left her
lips. She’d wanted to kiss it, draw it into her mouth and suck on it hungrily.
Just the tiniest touch and contact excited her out of all proportion. She felt
as if she were losing her mind for this man, but in a joyous, exciting way.
    The hook and zip on her skirt weren’t the barrier her bra hooks
had been and in a flash, she was stepping out of it, balancing on her smart,
business heels, terrified she’d trip on the hem and tumble. Not because she
might bump herself, but because she didn’t want to disappoint Patrick. She
didn’t want to be anything less than perfect and elegant and obedient for
him.
    Where had this submissiveness come from? It seemed both bizarre
and alien, and yet it was like a comforting cloak, slipping over her, suiting
her perfectly. She found herself lowering her eyes, respectfully, even though a
part of her wanted to gorge on the handsome sight of him. His elegant athletic
body in his dark waistcoat and trousers, and the way his white shirt, open at
the neck, made him look like a golden laughing prince.
    Nervous, she stepped out of her shoes, and then peeled down her
hold-up stockings, tossing them aside. Just her panties remained, trim and lacy,
the last barrier. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband, but Patrick shook his
head. Her hands fell to her sides, as if they had no purpose, and she had no
will.
    Not sure whether she should, she lifted her head and looked him
in the eye. He smiled, beautiful and benign, yet still steely somehow. Keeping
his gaze locked on her face he stepped forward until their bodies were almost
contiguous, then looked down on her. He wasn’t all that much taller than she,
but just enough to reinforce his supremacy. His hands dropped to her hips and he
pulled her close until expanses of her bare skin were pressed close to the
length of his clothed body. The brush of cloth against her breasts and abdomen
and thighs was tantalizing and perverse, as was the taste of his mouth as he
kissed her deeply again, thrusting his tongue between her lips, exploring her
teeth, her palate, the inside of her cheeks.
    It was a thorough kiss, a controlling kiss, and that quality
compelled her stillness. As he devoured her, she knew she wasn’t allowed to
touch him in return. Her hands hung motionless at her sides, held there by his
will.
    He kissed her for a long time thus, one hand on her bottom,
pressing her to him, one hand in her hair, securing her head. The power of his
mouth was almost cruel, it made her jaw ache, but she rejoiced in it, feeding on
his lust.
    Finally he drew back, and said, “I’m going to spank you now.
I’m going to spank you hard, and you’re going to enjoy it, even if you don’t
think you will.”
    His voice was hypnotic, even, gentle. All power in his soft
words.
    But I know I’ll enjoy it.
    That one casual spank he’d bestowed on her had made her sex
flutter and desire gather. More she knew would be wonderful, despite the pain.
Years ago, she and an old boyfriend had tried a bit of BDSM play, and that, too,
had set a fire in her sex. The man had lost interest, and that hadn’t bothered
her at the time, but now she knew she would have liked to continue and
experiment.
    This time it would be different, greater, more wonderful.
Because it was Patrick. Looking into his eyes, she knew this wasn’t his chief
kink. It was just something he liked to do, and wanted to do now, but that