“At least I’mdoingsomething!” She whirled toward the door. “You know what? Do whatever you want. Hide up here, plot your perfect revenge that never happens. I’m done waiting for you to catch up.”
She said it before I could!I fumed.
I didn’t try to stop her as she stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows. Let her go. Let her sulk. I was tired of coddling her impulsivity, tired of trying to channel it rather than simply working around it.
The silence left in her wake was almost a relief, but my anger needed an outlet. I waited a few moments, then headed for the kitchen, drawn by the sound of running water and the clink of dishes. Someone was on cleanup duty, and I knew who. One of Arabesque’s new staff members hired after Serafina left and exactly what I needed right now: Uncomplicated, willing, and available.
Austin Cho stood at the sink, yellow rubber gloves swallowing his slender wrists as he scrubbed lasagna pans. His black hair was still mussed from this morning’s escapade in my room.
My thighs remembered his hands.
I approached silently, watching the muscles in his back shift under his thin t-shirt as he worked. At twenty-two, he was old enough to be interesting, but young enough to be malleable. And at exactly my height, we fit together perfectly.
He didn’t turn as I approached. Smart boy. Always pretending he hadn’t noticed until I permitted it. The dishwasher exhaled steam as I pressed against his back, nose skimming the sweat-damp collar of his threadbare band tee.
“Miss me?” His voice hitched as my palm slid beneath the waistband of his joggers.
I bit his earlobe hard enough to sting. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
His hips jerked into my grip, predictable as sunrise. Within three strokes he hardened, a low moan escaping as he braced soapy hands against the counter. I admired the way his neck tendons stood out like lute strings, how his breath fogged the windowpane above the sink. So beautifully responsive. So exquisitely replaceable.
“Pathetically easy.” I twisted my wrist just shy of pain. “Turn around and take me.Now.”
This wasn’t a request; I never requested anything from Austin. I simply took, and he provided. That was our arrangement, unspoken and perfectly understood. I didn’t care about his pleasure or his feelings. He was a warm body, a distraction, nothing more. Austin understood his role, and he didn’t seem to mind it at all.
He spun, wet hands seizing my waist, and our noses bumped. His black eyes held no pretense of romance, only hunger honed by days of these covert trysts as he hiked up my skirt.
My back hit the kitchen wall with a satisfying thud. The display of strength sent a thrill through me, although I’d never admit it. His fingers hooked beneath the elastic of my panties, sliding them to the side, then tore open a foil packet and sheathed himself in latex.
No further warning, no sweet nothings, no tender preamble, just a brutal thrust that knocked the breath from my lungs. Just as I’d trained him.
“Slower,” I ordered, nails scoring his shoulders. “You’re not a jackhammer.”
He chuckled, breath hot on my clavicle.
“Depth. Not speed.” I clamped my legs around his ribs.
To his credit, he adjusted immediately. Good pet. I’d trained him well these past few days, ignoring his whimpers, his pleas for reciprocity until he understood pleasure flowed one way. Now his rhythm matched my demands, each snap of his hips calibrated to my sharp inhales.
“There.” I arched into the next thrust, teeth gritted as sensation built like storm pressure. “Just there.”
His mouth found my pulse point, sucking hard enough to bruise. I wouldn’t scold him for that. I rather enjoyed the little badges of conquest.
A shudder racked him. His gaze stayed locked on mine as we moved, pupils swallowing irises until only blackness remained. I counted his faltering breaths, timed the flush creeping up his neck, and tightened my inner muscles right as his control frayed. I liked keeping him in his place, literally and figuratively.
“Amabel—”
His warning groan vibrated through my sternum, and I dug heels into his lower back.
“Not yet. At least three more.Deepones.”
He choked a laugh or sob, but complied. By the fifth stroke, my vision whited out, a release I could control, unlike the chaos Eluned seemed determined to create.
“Right there.” My fingers dug into his shoulders. “Don’t you dare change a thing.”
My body tensed as the pleasure peaked. I clamped my teeth together, refusing to make a sound beyond a controlled exhale as I came hard around him. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me lose control, not this boy, notanyone.
His movements grew erratic, his breath hot against my neck.
