“What does that—”
“You know what that means.” I smacked his hand away and he sucked in a sharp, soft breath.
Ha!
I was right about him.
He shook his head, squaring his shoulders and facing me head on. He was so much broader than me, and I wanted to take him down to the floor, soft surfaces be damned.
“And I think you like that?” I tipped up the end of the sentence like a question, even though we both knew it wasn’t.
“Sometimes,” he rasped, lashes fluttering.
“I wish I could fuck you and get this out of my system,” I muttered, flexing my hands at my sides. I didn’t want to fall in love with Hendrix. I didn’t even know his last name. All I knew was I liked how he looked at me and I liked the color he flushed when something embarrassed him. I wanted to color match both sets of his cheeks and the amount of practice that would take wouldn’t bode well for either of us.
“You could try.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “I may be younger than you, but I’m not stupid.”
“It’s probably better. I’m told I’m pretty good in bed.”
“Oh?” I laughed softly. “He’s got jokes now?”
“Just saying.”
“And who’s told you that?” I asked.
“Are we really going to talk about ex-lovers?”
“I’d rather not.” I gave him a jerky nod, point received. “Besides, I came over here to talk about you and me, remember? I asked how you like to fuck.”
“Beyond that you haven’t said much yet.”
“I’ve said plenty,” I corrected.
“Spell it out.”
I moved quickly, grabbing him around the throat and spinning so our places were reversed. I pressed him gently against the pantry and released his throat and, in response, he tilted his head back, baring it for me to grasp again.
“Demanding little thing,” I murmured, inching closer. I trailed my nose up the curve of his neck. “Can I kiss you here?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
I licked my lips before sealing them against the thin skin behind his ear. I wanted to suck a bruise there—and a thousand more to match—but stopped myself before I sank my teeth into his neck.
“I’m going to ask you a series of yes and no questions, okay? I don’t want explanations or reasons. I just want a simple yes…” I nipped his earlobe between my teeth. “Or no. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” It sounded like a moan and I wanted to come in my pants like the child he’d accused me of being.
“Do you like to be spanked?”
“Yes.” His answer came quickly and I committed it to memory.
“Do you wantmeto spank you?”
The next yes came slower, but just as steady once he finally managed to get the word out.
“Do you like bondage?”
