Page 111 of Shark’s Pride

I pressed my lips to hers—but didn’t kiss her. Even when she whimpered for it. Even when she moaned.

Finally, I murmured, “Put your hands behind your back, girl.”

A new whine. So damn sexy. A longer moan. So damn addicting.

“Bas,” she protested.

“Hmmm… Yes, my love?”

“Why are you doing this?” she rasped. “Is…is this my punishment?”

“I told you.” I parted from her mouth but only by a fraction. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m doing this”—I drew it out in a wicked hiss—“because this is what I want to do. Need to do.” I tugged her hair, and she whimpered. “Now do as you’re told, beautiful.” After another few moments of personal debate, she clasped her perfectly feminine hands at the small of her back. Watching her submit, even though—no, especially because she was struggling with each and every decision to do so was engorging my cock as though I hadn’t fucked anyone in twelve years.

Each memory of what we were doing today would be crystalline and pure, high on the shelves of my disturbed mental library. One day in the future, when I was missing her skin and needing her touch, I’d be able to take out one of the delicate treasures and relive the moment as if it were happening all over again.

“Wh-What are you going to do?” she stammered. “To me, I mean.”

“Fuck you. Eventually.” My tone was flat and matter-of-fact. Still, I didn’t miss her needy shiver because of my carnal promise.

“So why can’t I touch you in return, then?”

“Too many questions, Red. You get one more for the whole time you’re with me today. Use it wisely.”

She made a show of pressing her lips together, and I nodded in approval. I was lured even closer by the glimmer that returned to her deep-forest eyes. My small display of praise sparked light back into her spirit.

It was time to claim those lips, that tongue, that husky moan. My erection pulsed at the notion too, so I ground into the softness of her stomach while holding her hips in place to steady her against my force.

“Mmmm,” she moaned softly and stared at me while I pressed my lips to hers. Wasn’t interested in soft here, not in the slightest. I needed to possess her mouth. Plunder and conquer. Mark and bruise. When Elijah would take her from me shortly, her lips would be swollen and tender from my kisses. Just the way they should be.

I swooped into her mouth with my greedy tongue. I tasted and explored every corner of her, inside and out. Her lips, naturally plush, were like heaven’s gates parting for my demonic desecration. She chased my assault with one of her own, fighting to keep up with my fervor. So good. Christ, my Little Red was so. Damn. Good.

Nipping and biting, I moved down her jaw to her ear. I dipped to her neck, all but ripping the collar of her T-shirt to make a wider path for my exploration.

“Stay.” I issued the one-word command while stepping back, finding the hefty stainless-steel scissors on my desk.

“No.” Her eyes grew impossibly wide at the view of the sharp object in my hand. “Bas. No.”

“Pardon?”

“What are you going to do?” she asked, panic-stricken.

“Last question. What a shame.”

I made a dramatically disappointed face. It didn’t matter one way or the other, though. I wasn’t going to supply an answer or change my course of action, but she did just use the last question of her allowance.

“Be still now,” I issued in warning, bringing the implement closer to her neck. As I slipped the cold metal against her collarbone, she shuddered. My dick surged. Oh, hell yes. “Such a good girl.”

One snip of the thicker neckline of her T-shirt was all I’d really planned. I was just turned on by her trust in me, letting me indulge the mindfuck of having the sharp object near her throat. So hot. So erotic. I had it so bad for this incredible woman.

I stepped back to my desk to return the scissors before facing my woman again. She was still so breathtaking to behold. Her breath sawed in and out, making her chest heave up and down. Her breasts thrust against her T-shirt and apron bib with each inhale and exhale.

About both of those…

Two lengthy steps and I was in front of her again. My intent must have been searing from my gaze because she moved back by two matching strides. Nervous ones. “Sebastian,” she chastised. “I have to have a shirt to wear, even just back to the kitchen. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but—”

Riiippp.

Then one more yank. Downward this time.