"Please," I whisper.
"Please what?"
My jaw tightens. He's really going to make me say it.
"Please fuck me."
Something flares in his eyes. Satisfaction. Triumph. Want.
"Good girl." His voice drops an octave, rough and dark. "Hands behind your back."
I hesitate. This is new territory, something we haven't done before.
Phoenix waits, patiently.
I put my hands behind my back.
His fingers work at his belt, and I hear the leather sliding free from the loops. My pulse kicks into overdrive. He moves behind me, and I feel the soft brush of leather against my wrists before he wraps the belt around them. Not too tight. Just enough that I can feel the restraint, feel my own vulnerability.
"You tell me to stop, I stop." His breath is hot against my ear. "Understand?"
I nod, my mouth is too dry for words.
"Words, Jade."
"I understand."
"Good."
He spins me around and lifts me onto the kitchen counter in one smooth motion. The cold surface bites into my thighs, but I barely notice because his hands are everywhere, tugging at my clothes, pulling my shirt over my head, yanking my leggings down my legs.
Within seconds, I'm naked except for my underwear, my hands bound behind my back, completely at his mercy.
And I like it.
The realization crashes through me like a wave. I like the way he's looking at me, like I'm something precious and profane all at once. Like being helpless, being vulnerable, being entirely under his control.
"Look at you." His voice is reverent, almost awed. His fingers trace down my throat, between my breasts, over the curve of my stomach. "So fucking beautiful."
"Phoenix—"
"Not yet." He hooks his fingers in my underwear and drags them down my legs. "I'm not done looking."
He spreads my thighs wider, stepping between them, his eyes raking over every inch of exposed skin. I've never felt so naked, so completely exposed and yet so seen.
"Please," I breathe.
"Please what? Tell me exactly what you want."
"I want you inside me." The words come out desperate, needy. "I want you to fuck me until I can't think anymore."
Something snaps in his expression. The restraint he's been holding onto shatters, and suddenly he's kissing me, hardand demanding, his hands gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise.
I hear the rustle of fabric, the clink of a zipper, and then he's there, pressing against my entrance, hot and thick and exactly what I need.
"Don't push me away," he says against my mouth, his voice ragged.
"I wasn't going to?—"
