And when his tongue flicks just right, when the pressure builds so tight I can barely see, I fall.
Hard.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I scream, hands tangled in his hair, body convulsing around his fingers and mouth as the orgasm hits like a tidal wave, wrecking me completely.
His beastly groan tears through my clit, his mouth wet and possessive against me, dragging every last tremor from my body until I’m nothing but boneless pleasure and rasping breaths.
Then he rises. Slowly. Predatorily. His mouth glistens with me, lips curved in dark satisfaction.
“You’re a squirter, Ms. Clark?” His mouth hovers over mine, sending my heart skipping. “Mm…” He grazes his lips across mine, tongue sweeping over the seam like he’s savoring me all over again. “That is very dangerous information.”
My brain short-circuits.
I’mwhat?
Before I can find words, his hand fists in my hair, wrapping the strands tight around his wrist. He grazes my bottom lip with his teeth just enough to make it sting, then pulls back with that maddening, arrogant look. The one that says he knows exactly how far under my skin he’s gotten.
He strides to a leather chair positioned like a throne in the center of the room. Only then do I take in the rest of our surroundings.
A dresser. A long wooden table. Gags. A metal leash and bar. A chair with a mounted collar. Another table, this one leather with cuffs attached, definitely meant for straddling.
Heat floods my chest.
Where the hell are we…and why is my body throbbing at the thought of him using any of this on me?
“You want to try all of that, don’t you?” He sinks onto the chair, undoing two buttons and rolling his sleeves past the thick veins of his forearms.
His gaze tracks every inch of me, every spot he touched and tasted, and it’s as though I’m being stripped all over again.
“No.”Yes.
What the hell is wrong with me? Have I seriously forgotten how hard I worked to get this bastard into prison?
He crooks a finger. “Come here.”
I take one hesitant step forward.
No. Don’t you dare do what he says.
He stops me with a look, then points to the floor.
“Net. You’ll crawl to me.” His tone drops lower. “Slowly.”
I let out a small laugh. “There is absolutely no way in hell I’ll ever do that.”
My gaze falls to the thick ridge of his cock straining beneath his slacks, and my body pulses, aching with the memory of what he did to me.
He chuckles. “Oh, but you will, Ms. Prosecutor. You even want to. You just don’t want to admit it.”
He’s not wrong. I do want to. I even like him bossing me around. Which is a whole new level of self-loathing I wasn’t emotionally prepared to unpack while stark naked in front of a Russian mobster with control issues.
He leans forward, eyes burning into me. “Your shame makes you lie, but your body doesn’t. You want to submit. You want me to take everything. To break you open and fill you until you forget your name.”
My breath hitches. It’s like he knows everything about me. Even things I’ve never said out loud.
“I can give you that, Fiona. I can give you everything you need, but only if you obey.”
My heartbeat thunders. “The last thing I want is pleasure from you.”
