She sticks to the book

“Sir?” Alison is clearly deeply “Why did you bring me here?” Her breasts are rising and falling under her pristine white blouse and she takes a half step back as I approach.

“Why do think, Miss Miller?” I reach out and catch the neck of her blouse with a hooked finger. “I own you now. What do you think a powerful man like me would do with a sweet little thing like you at his mercy?”

“You can't. I'm promised to another man.” I don't remember any reference to a fiancé in the Harlequin, but Alison seems to have filled in some back-story of her own.

“Who is this man of yours, Miss Miller.”

“His name is Roger Franklin, I met him at a retreat for Christian Faith Leaders.”

“So you're engaged to this young Mr. Franklin?” I ask curious about this new development. “I don't see a ring on your finger.”

“Well, not officially engaged, but we have an understanding.” She looks up at me hopefully, “You see, that's why you can't do this.” My deep chuckle startles her and Alison licks her lips nervously.

“On the contrary, Miss Miller.” I pull her even closer so I can breath in the sweet sent of her delicate perfume. “That's going to make this even better.”

“What?” It's hard to tell if Alison is surprised by this wicked declaration, or if it is just superb acting on her part, “I don't understand.”

“There is something extra exciting about taking another man's woman - especially if she's been saving herself for him.”

“No ... please don't do this.” She wiggles a little in my arms as I kiss her, not frantically trying to pull away but enough resistance to remind me that this Harlequin heroine is indeed supposed to be ****. I've enjoyed every kiss we've shared, but this was particularly hot and my grip tightens possessively on her slender body. I push her back against the small desk and as she squirms my hand starts to pull up her skirt.

“Did your 'Roger' kiss you like this Miss Miller?”

“No, Sir.” Alison's breathing is rapid and shallow, “He's a gentleman, not a beast like you.” Is she trying to tell me what she wants? After what I learned about her earliest sexual fantasies last week, it doesn't surprise me that out of all three books she chose the one where the young heroine is taken as she pleads for mercy.

“That's right, Miss Miller,” She squeaks in alarm when I pull open her blouse. “Still, you knew I was a bastard when you brought me your underwear even before we got our appetizers.” I lift her chin and kiss her again, “and you still let me lead you up to this private room. So what should we make of that?”

“Please, Sir...” her protests are at best perfunctory, and she barely resists as I sweep her into my arms and carry her to the other room with its king-sized bed. “What will I tell Roger?”

“Tell him he should have been more of a beast.” One of the buttons of her blouse flies off as I tear the top down off her slender shoulders. “Tell him he should have pressed you onto your back like this and claimed you like I'm going to.” I took the time to unzip the skirt and pull it off her kicking legs, but I left her stockings on her legs as I buried my face between her soft thighs.

“What are you doing Mr. P?” Clearly Alison's limited experience with men did not include oral sex. In that way she is exactly like the Alpha male's innocent secretary.