I roll onto her a little, pinning her arms above her head and watching for a reaction. There’s a faint tremor in her wrists that might be a bid for freedom. A twist to her mouth so quick I can’t be sure I saw the expression at all.
Bits and pieces of her hover just under the surface. Close enough to animate her, too far away to lift a finger to stop me.
A surge of blood pulses into my cock, desire swirling. The arousal is nearly as strong as it was that first night.
When it comes, I realise this is what I’ve been waiting for these past weeks. The heady confirmation that it wasn’t a one off. That something in this girl calls to me in a way no other person has before.
“Would you like me to touch you?” I whisper close to her ear and see her arch her hips. The motion sends more blood flowing, sends a rush of power skimming through my veins.
My fingertip touches just below her kneecap, following the inside slope of her leg as it rises, then her hips arch again. An unconscious response makes her strain upwards, perhaps hoping to find me between those supple legs. To grind against me the same way I rubbed against her that first night.
Temptation seizes me. Her arms are spaghetti, staying limp on the covers as I remove my hands.
I could do anything I want with her. She’s under my control.
And my brain makes the connection. It’s the gun all over again. Nothing to do with the weapon itself and everything to do with the submission it coerced from her.
Similar to the spark when I saw her wearing my collar around her neck.
My cock pulses again with another surge of blood and I revel in the hardness, the power, the incredible sensation of lust. It’s too good to be contained inside my clothing and I undo my fly, shove my briefs down, and stare as veins puff along its length.
A swollen mass of unfulfilled need, head shiny, darkening like a bruise, jerking with each new pulse of blood.
There’s such an outpouring of affection for Evie that I want to make her feel as good as I do right in this moment. I know her physical needs are far stronger than mine and she deserves the pleasure. Her sweet nature should be rewarded.
My conscience demands nothing less than her total satisfaction.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask, such a gentleman as my skin grows a thousand new nerve endings, turning every faint touch into an invigorating caress. “Would you like that, angel?”
Her throat vibrates with a soft hum.
It sounds like a yes to me.
I hold her chin, staring at her relaxed face, the closed eyelids, her gently open mouth. I start by sucking her lower lip, running my tongue across it, grazing it ever-so-gently with my teeth.
When I pull back, she lifts her chin as though seeking my touch. I brush the hairs away from her cheek, tucking an unruly curl behind her ear, smiling as it immediately bounces forward.
My forefinger goes on an adventure, running along the edge of her jaw, then following the sweet curve of her throat, thegorgeous dip between her collarbones where the pendant I gave her sits. She still wears the collar. Yesterday, it was my biggest triumph. Then the urgent call came and overrode the moment. Now I bask in it again.
I accepted her initial refusal without question and didn’t push. For weeks now, it’s been enough to see it wrapped around her wrist, never left behind in her flat.
But this is so much better.
A pet seeking one careful owner. I trace the outline, drawing it down when my finger finds a rough patch of her skin, a thin line of scarring. Only a few inches long but it sends a flash of anger through me.
She’s a treasure. There shouldn’t be a single sign of injury anywhere on her person.
I pat the collar back into place, continuing my fingertip discovery with her blouse, the buttons flicked open one by one until I can run my palm across the smooth skin of her midriff.
My body longs to experience her weight on top of me, so I roll to the side, wriggle up the bed a little, then hook her limp arms around my neck, hauling her into position, resting back against me.
The firm press of her tiny behind against my cock makes my breath catch. She wriggles, the slow sleepiness of her movements making it impossible for me to judge whether she’s trying to get away or making herself at home.
I hope it’s the latter. Right now, I couldn’t imagine a nicer place to house her. I spread my legs to make more room, hooking my calf over top of her leg to hold her steady.
A soft sigh escapes her lips as I curl my fingers under her chin, lifting so her face is tilted back towards me. The angle is perfect. I find a comfortable position for my left hand to keep her there, stroking my knuckles across her cheek when a frown line briefly creases her brow.
“Shh.”
