“Something you want to do first?” The look he throws over his shoulder is adorably curious, and I realize he’s so deep into problem-solving mode that he totally missed the innuendo.
With as much deliberate seduction as I can possibly manage, I bite my lip and let him see me scan his body slowly, up and down. I stand, closing the distance between us, unbuttoning my sweater. “I’m still hungry.”
He watches me, jaw slack as he drags in a shaky breath. His hands flex at his sides, making the veins along his muscular forearms pop. “Madison,” he says, infusing my name with so much desperation and longing that it makes lightning spark between my legs. “Don’t look at me like that. There isn’t time for that.”
“It’s only 30 minutes,” I negotiate.
“I don’t want to rush—I want to really take my timewith you.”
That squirmy feeling in my tummy is back. Elation and excitement. “I know. And I’m really looking forward to it. But nowIwant to take my time withyou. I really liked having you in my mouth yesterday, but it wasn’t enough. Give me, like… 45 minutes,” I amend with a smirk.
I let my sweater fall and step up to him. His eyes rake over my breasts and, like he can’t help himself, he lifts his hands and cups my face. It’s both an invitation and a deferral, when what he clearly wants is to rip off the lace cups and grab a nipple between his teeth.
“I don’t need you to service me—to do this when I can’t reciprocate.” He’s trying so hard not to give in.
With a little laugh at the irony, I turn my head and suck his thumb into my mouth. When I did this at the arcade, he lit up like fireworks. This time is no different. “I know. That’swhyI’m offering,” I point out. “If you were selfish, I wouldn’t want to give this to you. If you were inconsiderate or mean or greedy, I wouldn’t want to please you or submit to you.
“And the way you took care of me last night was so amazing. You were gentle, then you gave me exactly what I needed. You make me feel so special, Wesley. So… cherished.”
Lifting his hand and tucking a lock of green hair behind my ear, he nods, face serious. “I cherish nothing more,” he murmurs.
I bite down on a smile. “And I cherish you, too. So I’m taking control this time—I’mthankingyou. And you, Sir, are going to sit back and let me.”
That does it. Decision made, he cups the back of my head and pulls me in for a bruising kiss. The instant our lips touch, he cradles the nape of my neck and fuses his mouth to mine. He bites at my lips, plunders my mouth with his tongue, and our teeth hit each other almost hard enough to make me pull away. I can feel how badly he wants to tear off my clothes and flip me over. I can taste how badly he wants to take control.
I place a hand on his chest, feeling his warmth and the steady beating of his heart against my palm. “On the bed.”
While I like being on my knees because of the interesting feeling of the power dynamic, I can appreciate the comfort of a soft mattress. I take his hand and pull him with me, waiting as he gets settled propped against the headboard.
I climb onto the mattress straight into his open arms, straddling him, putting our faces close enough to breathe the same air. He’s so handsome. I could live in his gray eyes, could spend hours tracing lines between the faint freckles on his nose that I never saw until now. I love white guys—between the freckles and random tiny moles everywhere, they’re covered in brown spots, like tortillas.
As we kiss, I grind on him, rocking my hips to tease him. When I can feel him stiffening against me, I shift back, off his lap. My eyes drop, and my hand slides down his hard chest, skating over the ridges of his abdomen through his button-down, and settles on his belt buckle.
“I’m in control now, Sir. Your safe word is ‘don’t stop,’” I joke with a wink.
I open his fly with a flick of my long nails. I watch and salivate as his cock pops out of the hole in his boxers, hard and shining with precum. Once he’s settled in place, I lean forward and lick that pearly drop. He hisses and his abs tense, but to his credit he doesn’t grab for me at all.
My hair follows the trail I make as I flip up the bottom of his shirt and press a soft kiss to every tattoo I can see and dip my tongue into every ridge where muscle meets muscle. I take my time, feeling his desire shifting into something more urgent. After a few minutes of lips and gentle brushes of my hair on the most sensitive part of him, he’s panting, sweating, so tense it’s like he’s going to snap at any second. I glance up and see that his eyes are squeezed shut so hard that it’s carving deep lines between his brows and around his eyes. I blow some cool air on the head of his cock, and the whole thing jerks.
“Fuuuuck,” he hisses.
I grin. “Be as loud as you like. Scream my name, Sir,” I croon, teasingly throwing his words back at him.
“Fuck, Madison,” he breathes, emphatic with the rush of air he was holding in. “You’re having too much fun with this.”
The agony in his tone is music to my ears. I smile against his skin on the next kiss. “I’ll takeWhat not to say to a brat when she’s in controlfor $800, Alex.”
“Bollocks,” he whispers through a broken laugh, and the word itself sends shivers down my spine.
“This is hard for you, isn’t it?” I ask, cocking my head as I gaze up at him.
“I think you’ll find it’s hard foryou,” he grits out.
I giggle at my unintentional double entendre. “I meant this,” I gesture to the way he’s gripping the sheet with white knuckles instead of my head. “Not being in control.”
After a second, he nods. “It’s not… my normal way. Only for you,” he says softly. “I’d only do it for you.”
That bowls me over. I guess I didn’t realize how deep that dominant streak went. I suppose it makes sense, though. He’s a man used to controlling everything, including a network of informants and the information itself. It shows in little ways, too, like how clean and meticulous and organized he is.
