Heat floods through me, pooling low in my belly. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” His eyes bore into mine.
My cheeks burn. This is a game we play, and I love it so. “Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.” He rewards me with a gentle sweep of his thumb over my cheek, and the praise sends a shiver down my spine. “Now come here.”
He stands, extending his hand, and I take it without hesitation. My fingers look tiny in his scarred palm as he leads me down the hallway to the bathroom. The moment we're inside, he kicks the door shut and crowds me against it, his huge body caging me in.
“Fucking years of watching you, wanting you, touching myself to thoughts of you. You know how many times in the past year I came with your name on my lips, lass?”
Oh god. The image of this brutal, dangerous man stroking himself while thinking of me makes my knees weak.
“How many?” I whisper, grinning.
“Too many to count.” His hand slides under the sweatshirt, palming my bare breasts roughly. I stifle a whimper. “Every night. Sometimes twice a day, when I saw you in those little skirts you wear. Been celibate except for my own feckin’ hand, saving myself for you like a goddamn altar boy.”
I gasp as his thumb brushes my nipple. “Ashland?—”
“Do you understand what you've done to me?” His other hand grips my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes. “What you are to me? You've ruined me, Bianca. Completely fucking ruined me for anyone else.”
“I'm sorry?—”
“Don't.” He kisses me hard, biting my bottom lip. “Don't apologize for being everything I need. For being mine.”
He yanks the sweatshirt over my head, leaving me in just my panties, and the sound he makes is almost pained.
“Christ, look at you.” His hands are everywhere—cupping my breasts, squeezing my hips, sliding down to grip my ass. “Perfect. So fucking perfect it hurts to look at you.”
I reach for his shirt, but he catches my wrists, pinning them above my head with one massive hand. The position arches my back, pushing my breasts toward him, and his eyes go molten.
“No. I'm in charge tonight, lass. Tonight, you let me take care of you. Tonight, you give me control. Can you do that?”
My breath comes in short pants. “Yes,” I breathe out. He smacks my arse.
“Yes, what?” His grip tightens on my wrists.
“Yes… sir.” The word still feels foreign on my tongue, but the way his eyes flash tells me it was right.
“Fuck.” He releases my wrists. “Say it again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Again.”
“Yes, sir, please?—”
He growls and hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. I can feel how hard he is through hisjeans, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against my core, and I grind against him without thinking.
“Greedy little thing, aren't you?” He carries me to the shower, already running and steaming. “So desperate for me. Bet you've been wet since I promised to eat this pretty cunt, haven't you?”
I whimper, burying my burning face in his neck.
“Answer me, Bianca.”
“Yes,” I admit, shame and arousal warring in my chest. “Yes, I've been wet.”
“Show me.”
