“Mr. Caine, we need to do photos–”
“Not now,” he snaps at the coordinator, shoving me back into my dressing room and locking the door.
I’m panting by the time we’re finally alone.
He pins me against the door, mouth crashing into mine before I can draw a breath.
"Asher…" I whimper. I’m feeling needier than I ever have.
His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back to expose the pearls locked at my throat. "You were perfect out there. Coming on command like the good little wife you are."
Heat floods through me, fresh arousal pooling despite the orgasm still thrumming in my veins.
His fingers find the zipper at my spine, dragging it down in one smooth motion. The bodice falls away, and he tugs the dress down my hips until it falls to the floor in a puddle of silk.
I stand before him in nothing but white lace panties, thigh-high stockings, and the collar.
"Look at you." His gaze rakes over me, possessive and hungry. "Wearing my ring. My collar. Still dripping from coming in front of hundreds of people like a dirty little slut."
A moan tears from my throat as my legs tremble. He’s right. I did love it. Obeying him, knowing that I belong to him, even in a room full of people, made me come harder than ever.
"You loved that, didn't you?" He circles me slowly, predatory. "Knowing there was nothing you could do as I controlled your pleasure."
"Yes, Sir," I respond breathlessly.
"You're my little plaything, aren't you, Sugar?" His hand slides between my thighs, fingers pressing against the soaked lace. "I can make you come wherever, whenever, and however much I want."
"Please—"
"Please, what?" He yanks the panties down, the vibrator tumbling out with them. "Use your words."
"Please, fuck me. Please…"
The sound he makes is dark and satisfied. He leans in, lips finding mine as he devours me. His fingers trace the curves of my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“I love hearing you beg,” he purrs against my throat, his teeth nipping at the skin. Electricity shoots down my spine, and my entire body tingles with the need coursing through me.
I open my mouth to beg him again, to plead with him to please fuck me because I need to know what it feels like to havehim inside me, but I don’t get the chance. Before I even catch my breath from the kiss, he’s spinning me around, and I gasp as he bends me over the vanity. My palms hit the surface, sending lipsticks and brushes scattering. I see myself in the mirror, looking like a wanton woman, desperate for anything this man might give me.
And that’s how I feel. It’s all consuming, the desire I have for him.
He meets my eyes in the mirror as he reaches around, palming my breast through my bra before slipping his fingers under the white material and pinching my nipple. I whimper, seeing the pleased look on his face, a look that only seems to make me wetter.
He lets go and I hear his belt, the rasp of his zipper, the crinkle of a condom wrapper. And then he's pressing against me, thick and impossibly hard.
God.
He's big, which I knew from sucking his cock, but now as the head nudges my entrance, hesitance momentarily takes over.
“It’s not–” I wiggle, pouting up at him in our reflection.
Shaking his head, he looks into my eyes, hands gripping my hips tightly. “It’ll fit, Sugar.”
I whimper as he stretches me, relishing the burn as he slides his way in.
"That's it." He pushes in farther, gripping my hair so my eyes stay on his in the mirror. "Take it all."
I bite down on my lip as he fills me, inch by devastating inch. The burn bleeds into pleasure, my body yielding to accommodate him until he's buried completely.
