“Maybe you just see what you want to see.”
He laughed softly, his breath warm on my neck. “Or maybe you finally met someone who’s better at the game than you.”
Before I could argue, he shifted. Sliding his hands up my thighs and under my dress, he hooked his fingers into the lace of my panties and tugged them down. The movement was quick, efficient, without pretense. He tossed them aside like they were an afterthought.
He left my heels on.
Hot.
Then he dropped his head between my spread thighs, and his mouth was on me, hot and sudden. The breath caught in my throat. My fingers fisted in the sheets, my body arching before I knew what was happening. His tongue traced an unhurried and entirely too deliberate circle around my clit, and I bit my lower lip, a tight, angry pleasure coiling low in my belly.
Damn him.
I didn’t want this to feel good. I didn’t want to lose the edge, the clarity, the cold, calculated purpose that had brought me here. But his mouth was relentless, and his hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he built a rhythm that made my muscles clench and my thoughts scatter like dust.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus, to remind myself of the objective, of the needle nestled in a secret compartment in my purse. But every time I tried to grasp the thought, his tongue would flick at the greedy bundle of nerves between my thighs, and my mind would short-circuit again.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I opened my eyes. He’d risen, his hands now braced on either side of my head, his body hovering over mine. His eyes were dark, the pale blue almost gone in the low light.
“You came in here thinking you could control me. Sassy little girl. I’m about to teach you otherwise,” he promised, his voice low and raspy. “You’re going to come so hard and so many times—on my tongue, on my cock—you’ll forget all about being in control.” He looked down at me, a heated, predatory smile spreading across his face.
He wanted to break me.
“I won’t break for you,” I managed, the words shaky but defiant.
He laughed, the sound rough. “That’s what they all say.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he freed his cock and positioned himself between my taut thighs, the thick head of it nudging against my entrance. He didn’t push in, not right away. He just stayed there, a threat and a promise all at once. My hips shifted, a silent, traitorous plea for more, and his smile widened.
“Beg for it,” he rumbled.
“Go to hell.”
He chuckled again, the sound vibrating through my chest. Then without warning, he drove into me, hard and deep. A gasp escaped me, a desperate, uncontrolled sound that made him groan in response.
“You should know you’re going to eventually break for me. You’re going to beg for mercy before I’m through with you.”The low growl sent goosebumps racing across my skin.
My body arched, the pleasure so intense it almost bordered on pain. I hated it. I hated how good it felt, how my body responded so eagerly to his rough treatment. I hated the way my hips lifted to meet his, the way my nails dug into his back, the way my breath hitched with every thrust.
I hated that I was like putty in his damned hands.
He pulled back onto his knees, dragging my hips with him without missing a stroke. Lifting my leg with one hand, he delivered a quick, sharp smack to my ass with the other. The sting was immediate, a hot, tingling sensation that spread through my entire body. I yelped, more from surprise than pain,and he did it again, harder this time and I bit my lip, trying to keep myself quiet.
“You like that, don’t you?” he grunted, resuming his rhythm. “You like being put in your place.”
“Fuck you,” I gasped, even as my body betrayed me, clenching around him.
“That’s the idea, sweetheart.”
He spanked me again and again, each one harder than the last. The line between pleasure and pain blurred, my mind going hazy with sensation. I was going to come soon, and he knew it. I could see it in his eyes, in the smug, self-satisfied way he watched me.
So I allowed a slow smile to take over my lips and slid my hand down his back. Without warning, I smacked his ass. Hard.
It was pure impulse, the rebellious act of a woman losing control. My hand connected with the firm muscle of his butt, the sound loud in the quiet room.
He froze. His thrusts stopped. He pulled back slightly, a look of disbelief on his face. “Did you justspankme?”
