He chuckles, savage and cold. “Still pretending I don’t own your body?” He lounges back, the bulge in his pants impossible to ignore. “Because I just made you come so hard you squirted for me like a desperate little slut. Don’t lie to me, detka.I guarantee no man has ever made you come like that.”
His triumphant smirk deepens, and I want to cut it off.
“I won’t ask again.” His voice drops, rougher now. “Or maybe you want me to take it instead. Is that it? You want me to rip the obedience out of you?”
He stands, and with every inch of height, my lungs tighten. Power comes off him in waves, and I’m caught in its gravity. Hishand fists my hair, dragging me closer until his mouth hovers over mine.
“Get your damn hands off of me.” I make some half-assed attempt at pushing him off, but it’s all a game, he and I both know it.
It’s what we do. What we both like, this sick little game we seem to be playing.
“You make me do this,” he growls, like I’m to blame for the hunger spiraling in him.
He drags me by my hair toward the table, fingers brushing over the metal chain and collar attachment.
My stomach flips. My thighs clench.
I don’t know what I expected, but the collar sliding through his hand lights up every nerve ending in my body. He turns to me with fire in his irises, brushes the hair from my neck with an intimacy that burns, and then…
Click.
The cold metal locks into place around my throat.
My pussy aches, toes curling. I don’t know what it is about this, but I seem to like it.
His gaze devours me, pupils blown.
Is this happening? Did he really just chain me like a dog?
“Obedient looks good on you. Almost too good.”
“Obedient?” I laugh. “I will never heel for you. Ever.”
“We’ll see.” He tugs once, hard enough to make my pulse spike. “Should I make you crawl, or will you be a good girl and do it for me?”
The metal sinks into my skin with a satisfying sensation, and I’m edging again, on the cusp of pleasure, wanting to drown in everything he gives me.
But I still won’t do it. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
His dark laughter ricochets through the room, echoing off the walls. Then he firmly tugs the leash, giving me no choice butto follow. He sinks back into the chair like a king claiming his throne, one arm draped lazily over the side, while the leash stays wrapped in his possessive grip, a silent command that makes my blood burn and anger spiral through me at the same time.
His fingertips trail down the middle of my chest with maddening slowness, drawing an invisible line straight to the place I need him most. And when he touches me there…God.
My back arches, a moan clawing up my throat as lust floods between my legs.
His hand slides lower. Deeper.
When I squeeze my thighs together, a last-ditch attempt to reclaim control, to pretend I still have any, he smirks.
“That won’t help you, Ms. Clark.” His voice is a rumble laced with hunger, dark eyes fixed on mine as he drives his fingers deeper, rougher, relentless now. “You can’t lie to me. Not when your body already belongs to me…to use however the fuck I please.”
Another sharp thrust makes my spine arch, a strangled sound breaking out of me as his other hand slides up, gripping my throat. His thumb circles my clit with devastating precision, the pressure just shy of cruel.
I try to resist. I do. But it’s too much. Too good. Too dangerous.
I hate him. Yet I want this.
And somewhere in the blur of pain and pleasure, I surrender to it all. Again.
