He swallowed convulsively. “I think about your mouth when you give commands, when you praise me. I want—” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I want.”
“I do.”
His whole body went still when I cupped his jaw.
“Tell me to stop,” I said.
Again, he didn’t. Instead, his eyes held mine as I bent toward him. His lips parted, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps.
“Tell me to stop, Oliver. Say it now, and I will. I’ll walk out of this room, and we’ll never speak of it again.”
“I can’t.” His voice broke on the words. “God help me, I can’t.”
I kissed him—not gently or tentatively. I claimed his mouth like I’d wanted to since the moment I met him. My tongue swept between his lips, and he opened for me with a moan that vibrated through my entire body.
His hands fisted in my shirt and drew me closer, and I let him. He sunk into the sofa, and I braced my knee beside his hip, letting him drag me down until I was half on top of him and my weight pressed him into the cushions.
The kiss deepened. His tongue met mine with awkward eagerness.
I broke away long enough to breathe. “Touch me.”
His hands traveled up my chest, hesitant at first, then over my shoulders. His hips rolled into mine, and his hard cock pressed against my thigh.
“Kiernan, please?—”
My hand slid down his chest, over his stomach, and to the bulge straining beneath his jeans as I thrust my tongue into his mouth. He cried out when I gripped him through the denim.
“Please what?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
When I squeezed him, he arched off the sofa, and a broken sound tore from his throat. His gaze was raw when he met mine, desperate and confused and burning with need.
“What does this make me?” he asked.
“It makes you human.”
His jaw worked. He was processing and fighting and surrendering all at once.
“Show me, Kiernan,” he whispered.
The sound of my name on his lips—not sir, not Archon, but Kiernan—broke my restraint.
I kissed him once more. It was deep, claiming, and full of promise. Then I pulled away.
“Find Ophelia,” I said, my voice rough with want. “Bring her to my bedroom.”
12
OLIVER
My lips still burned from Kiernan’s kiss as I walked to find Ophelia.
His taste lingered, and my heart slammed into my ribs as I walked to our suite. His hands had gripped my jaw like he owned me, and I’d let him. I’d done more than let him. I’d taken everything he gave.
This was what my body had known that night in the playroom, when I’d stood before that collar and hardened without understanding why. This was what “Yes, sir” had meant when it slipped out unbidden. My hand trembled when I raised it to knock on Ophelia’s door.
