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“So you’re one who attacks when they feel threatened.” I turn in my seat to face him, and he’s every bit the antsy little fireball I expected him to be.
His arms are crossed and his stance is rigid. There’s a firm line between his brows to indicate his displeasure, and his jaw is so tight I wouldn’t be surprised to hear his molars grinding together.
“How about you fuck right off?” Yet his body language remains on high alert and not for a second does he look like he’ll bolt.
“You came up to me, remember?”
He snorts, some of the rigidity falling. “Because I heard your fuck buddy proposition you for sex.”
I give him a slow nod and raise my brow. “And that made you feel like you needed to come over? To what? Catch us in the act? Or were you curious about two men together?”
The breath in his chest stutters, and I throw my arms over the back of my chair, barely containing a smile.
“Or maybe you wanted to stop it. Because if I’m going to be pleasuring anybody, it’s going to be you. Correct?”
I’ve gotten good at spotting arousal in people who get their pleasure from being talked down to. He might never admit it out loud, but by the part of those pretty, full lips and the blink-it-and-miss haziness in his eyes, Shiloh likes it when his control slips.
Based on the way he let me take him in that alley, I’d say he likes the illusion of power but has never experienced what truly losing it is like.
I want to give that to him more than I want to breathe in this instance.
He doesn’t take the bait. The shutters over his eyes close, and I think the moment might be true and done until he rounds the table and plops into Rascal’s unoccupied seat.
“What do you want to do with ‘your little obsession’?”
This is a dangerous slope. One I’d jump off of at a single command from the man beside me.
“I got you off once, and now you feel entitled to my kinks?”
His eyes harden and his jaw ticks, but still he doesn’t run away.
“You told me you could take it. The anger. The pain. Is that still true?”
I scooch my chair in towards the table and motion for Shiloh to do the same. After a brief, defiant breath, he follows suit.
I shouldn’t offer myself to him. Not with our history. Not knowing what he’s been through. Not knowing that he hates my guts in every possible way. But I’m a glutton for punishment when it comes to him.
“If you need a safe place to offload all of your bullshit, I can be that for you. Whether it’s shouting, fighting, or something more intense.”
“More intense?”
The curiosity has him leaning closer, our chairs only a few inches apart and his shoulder millimeters from my own.
I take a gamble putting my hand on his knee, and though he tenses at the contact, he doesn’t pull away.
“You really want to know about the things I’d do to my obsession—“ I lower my voice so he’ll tilt his head my way, close enough for me to brush his jaw with my lips, ”—if given the opportunity?”
He shivers, and I can’t express the degree of excitement coursing through my veins at the response.
I want him to want this. Selfish as it is.
“You’ve already overheard one of them. Do you remember, sweetheart?” I glide my fingertips midway up his thigh and watch his throat work to swallow down the desire he’s caving to.
“Spanking, right?” His eyes look just like a child waiting to see if they’ll be praised.
He’s already the perfect little toy, and he doesn’t even know it.
“What do you do? Just bend them over your knee and call them a bad boy while you smack them?”
