My cock, which I thought was well and truly sated, begins to stir.
I break the kiss, and she lets out a soft, breathy whimper, a sound of protest.
"You need to recover," I say. It's as much for me as for her.
The words must break whatever spell she's under because she jerks back. "I don't want this," she says, trying to pull away. "Just... let me go. You got what you paid for." But her body doesn't move to get away.
Her words are a direct challenge to my control. The carefully constructed calm I've maintained since my release shatters. My jaw clenches. "What I paid for was a night with you. You're mine until morning."
She looks at me then, really looks at me. And she sees the darkness. She sees the predator lurking beneath the surface.
I let her see it. Let her feel it.
I roll over, pinning her beneath me. She instinctively spreads her legs for me, a perfect, willing offering.
My eyes roam over her body, over the flushed, tender skin, the hard pebbles of her nipples.
"Y-You said I needed to recover," she says, breathless with fear.
"So I did," I say. My thumb brushes a nipple. "And you will. Look at yourself, Erica. Splayed out for me, and I've barely touched you." My knuckles ghost down her stomach, tracing the sensitive skin.
My hand moves lower, my fingers tracing the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her breath hitches, her body trembling.
"You're already wet for me," I murmur. "You loved every second of it." I slide my fingers through her wet folds.
She's soaking.
"You liked it. You liked being told what to do. You liked being restrained. You liked begging me to fuck you."
"That's not true," she says, but her voice is weak, unconvincing. She's trying to convince herself as much as me.
Quick as lightning, I flip her over to her stomach.
"Get on your knees," I say.
She hesitates, and I know she's fighting a war with herself.
"Now, Erica," I say, my voice a low growl.
She flinches at the threat, her body going rigid.
I press a kiss to the small of her back, a gesture that's both a comfort and a claim.
Then, with a shuddering breath, she obeys. She pushes herself to her knees, her ass in the air, while her head dips submissively in a beautiful arc in the dim light of the room.
"I warned you about lying to me, didn't I?" I ask.
She doesn't answer.
I stroke my hand over the taut skin of her ass.
"Answer me."
"Yes, sir," she whispers.
The word "sir" naturally tumbling off her tongue sends a thrill through me.
"I'm a man of my word, Erica. A lesson must be learned."
