I stared at him and it hit me that he looked strangely hopeful.
“Maybe this is going a little fast for me,” I tried.
And failed.
His expression shifted, not angry or impatient but pleased. Very pleased. Even, if it could be credited, relieved.
And stimulated. Or, more stimulated.
“You deny me?” he whispered sounding like he hoped I did.
“Um…”
“Offer me your breast, Leah,” he repeated.
“Er…”
“Cup it in your hand and offer it to me.”
“Couldn’t we just, you know, carry on like before, natural-like?” I suggested.
He shook his head and his arms stole around me, tensing fiercely, crushing me to him.
“Today, if it takes all day, if it takes into tomorrow, if it takes the next month, you’ll learn to submit to me. You’ll learn to give me what I want when I ask for it. You’ll learn to offer me what I desire when I demand it. You’ll learn to beg me for your own release when I require it.”
I felt my temper rise. Really, he was such a jerk.
“I don’t think –”
“Give me your breast, pet.”
“Lucien, seriously.”
“Do it!” he snarled, his voice turning dangerous, his patience waning.
Obedient Leah evaporated and Real Leah glared.
“You want it, take it! I’m not giving you anything,” I snarled back.
He rolled into me, his massive weight crushing me to the couch and, for some unhinged reason, regardless of the fact we were locked in our usual battle, I found I was wrong about his patience waning.
It had been a test. A test I failed. A battle he won.
And he looked triumphant.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he muttered.
Great!
Then it began, my punishment for disobeying – his hands on me, his mouth on me everywhere, hard, hot, ravenous, demanding my response and getting it in spades.
He lit me on fire. I fought it but I didn’t win. My defenses were puny and they collapsed within minutes.
I pulled up his tee and he took over, arching away from me, tearing it over his head and tossing it aside. With all his delicious skin exposed, a craving so intense it felt like it would shatter me tore through my system. My mouth sought anywhere it could touch, taste, lick, bite, suck and I liked the way he tasted.
No, I adored it.
When we kissed again, my fingers curled into his hair, holding him to me like I’d never let him go.