Even more interestingly, causing intentional pain was never something Kallias had been drawn to. He’d always sworn to himself that he’d never hurt anyone, especially since he knew what it was like to be hurt in that way. But if Lea wanted it… “What sort of pain?”
She shrugged, her gaze lowered. “You could try…pulling my hair.”
The idea sent a sharp pang of desire through him. He definitely shouldn’t be this aroused at the thought of pulling Lea’s hair. But it seemed harmless enough, so he slid a hand into her hair. The glossy locks caressed his fingers, just like that night in his room when he’d taken her hair down for her. Her braid had come loose, and inky strands spilled over her bare shoulders.
He tightened the grasp of his fingers, pulling just a bit.
She smirked. “You can do better than that.”
Her words goaded him into giving a sharp yank on her hair. She gasped in pain, and he released her immediately, taking an unsteady step back. He felt dizzy, head spinning as if he’d stood up too fast.
Oh, he’d liked that. He’d liked that very much.
“Did I ask you to stop?” She eyed him with faint amusement.
“I’ve never—never hurt anyone before,” he confessed. “Not like that.”
She leaned back on her hands, gazing up at him. “But you liked it.” Her gaze shifted down to linger on his cock. “You liked it very much, I think.” That smirk reappeared, smug and challenging.
She seemed to be daring him to do it again, so he slid his hand back into her hair and pulled once more—not quite so sharp this time, but strong enough to make her features tighten, her brow furrow. He twisted his fingers, and her breathing became shallower.
At this rate, she’d undo him with no touching at all.
He needed to know if she was as affected as he was. “Is this making you wet?”
Her eyes fell half-closed. “I think so.”
“Find out.”
She slid a hand between her legs, fingers brushing the thatch of dark curls at her center, then withdrew her hand. Wetness gleamed on her fingers. The sight made his cock give another agonized throb, but he resolutely ignored it.
He closed his fingers in her hair, feeling guilty about how much he enjoyed the sight of the pain flickering across her face, tensing her features. “What would you do if you decided you didn’t wantme to do this?” He gave her hair another tug. This position made many tempting images flit through his mind…Lea taking him into her mouth, using his grip on her hair to move her exactly as he liked…but he tucked those ideas away for later.
“I’d ask you to stop,” she replied.
“And I would, but hypothetically, let’s say I didn’t. Could you make me?”
A sly smile appeared on her lips. “Yes.”
“Show me.” Her displays of strength intoxicated him; he’d replayed those moments when she’d thrown him to the ground at the palace more times than he could count.
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. Before he could take another breath, her hand flashed out, and pain exploded in his elbow. He yelped and released his grip on her hair. Then, her weight barreled into his lower legs, throwing him off balance. He flailed backward and landed on the bed. Lea’s weight on his thighs pinned him to the mattress, and a knife pricked the skin of his throat.
“Where the fuck did you get a knife?” he demanded, heart pounding.
“It was just on the table.” She held the weapon up. It was a short blade, the kind used for daily household tasks. She adjusted her grip on it and threw it at the opposite wall. It hit the exact middle of the wall, the blade quivering where it stuck into the plaster.
He’d never been so attracted to someone who could probably kill him twelve different ways.
Her lips curved in a smirk, as if sensing his thoughts. She probably wasn’t used to being around men with zero skill in combat, he realized.
“Does it bother you that I can’t physically overpower you?” he asked.
She settled her weight more firmly on his legs. “For what it’s worth, I think you could if you put your mind to it.”
He grinned. “Are you calling me lazy?”
