“And yet you take ordersso wellwhen I give them.” The note in his tone suggested he saw straight through my defenses.
“Maybe I need a better handler.”
“Maybe you need to stop being a brat.”
His grip in my hair tightened—not yanking, but firm enough that I felt thoroughly caught. I couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped,couldn’t hide the way my thighs clenched together, couldn’t disguise the arousal flooding through me.
I wanted this man to use me, call me his filthyvolchok, and it scared me.
I’d never imagined—never in either life—that I would be okay with a man exerting authority over me. After Edward, after years of being commanded and controlled and treated like property, I’d sworn I’d never submit to anyone again.
But this wasn’t submission. Or maybe it was, but it was submission Ichose. Power Igaverather than power that was taken.
The difference felt cosmic.
“Then it’s no fun, Rowan.” I managed to inject challenge into my voice despite the way my body trembled.
“Must you always be pushing boundaries?”
“If you can’t take it, then let me go.”
He leaned down, and I felt his lips press against my collarbone—soft, almost chaste. The gentleness of it contrasted sharply with his grip in my hair, and the juxtaposition made me dizzy.
“And leave you alone to fend for yourself?” His mouth moved along my shoulder, trailing kisses that felt like brands. “I think not.”
My neck was beginning to ache from the angle, and somehow I knew he was aware of it. Reading my body’s signals, monitoring my comfort, ensuring he pushed right up to my limits without crossing them.
“I am capable of taking care of myself.” But the words lacked conviction.
His teeth found that spot on my neck—the one he’d discovered weeks ago, the place that made my brain short-circuit, and my cunt clench with need—and grazed it with just enough pressure to make me whimper.
“You are, Violet.” He released my hair, both hands moving to massage where he’d held me. The relief was immediate and exquisite. “Fuck, you are very capable.”
His palms worked the sore muscles with practiced skill, and I melted under his touch.
“But when you are with me. . .” He pulled back, and I felt him shift position behind me. “Let me take care of you.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. Full-body shivers cascaded through me, raising goosebumps across every inch of exposed skin.
“Oh god.” The word came out shaky, overwhelmed. “Why was that so hot?”
I felt his smile against my shoulder blade before I saw it. When he moved back around to face me, that tantalizingly smug expression I’d learned to love was firmly in place.
“Because you want me.” He eased me down and settled between my spread thighs, his hands resting on my knees. “You just do not want to want me.”
The truth of it hung between us, undeniable and terrifying, cementing the weeks I had tried to deny myself the truth he had so casually spoken aloud.
His hands began to move again—starting at my feet this time, fingers trailing from the top of my arch, around the curve to my heel. Achingly slow, deliberately torturous, each touch sending sparks up my legs.
I watched him work, cataloging every detail. The concentration on his face. The way his white-blonde hair fell forward, catching light from the bedside lamp. The flex of muscle in his forearms as his fingers wrapped around my ankles, applying pressure that made me shudder.
“The crotch tie I mentioned earlier,” he said conversationally, as if we weren’t both acutely aware of the sexual tension thick enough to choke on, “Is relatively simple in construction. You add an adjustable loop that changes size depending on the toy being used.”
His hands roamed higher, massaging my calves with firm strokes that felt professionally therapeutic and erotically charged simultaneously.
His thumbs pressed into the muscle just below my knees, working out tightness I hadn’t known existed. “The toy sits directly against your clit, held in place by the rope. You cannot move it. Cannot escape the sensation. Just constant, unrelenting stimulation until—”
“Until I come apart.” I finished for him, my voice barely above a whisper.
