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I couldn’t believe the night we’d had. Couldn’t believe the number of orgasms he’d ripped from my body, until I was as weak as Jell-O.
And even then, he didn’t stop.
“One more. Show me how beautiful you are when you come for me.”
I didn’t know how often he’d demanded it, didn’t know how my body complied with each command. But I was pretty sure I set a new world record for the number of orgasms per night.
Though he didn’t take my ass, which was a surprise and something I’d expected after his question, but that never happened—aside from his thumb when he took me from behind.
And then, when he touched me there in the morning and realized I was sore…
Fuck.
If I didn’t know better, didn’t know his other side, the dark side, I would almost think we had a chance to become…more. Much more.
I shook my head, then blew out my cheeks. Alex and I were as wrong for each other as wrong could be.
But then why was I feeling the way I felt?
Why did I desperately want to believe him when he grinned at me and said, “Last night was just the beginning, princess.”
I groaned.
So help me, God.
I could deal with Mr. Cocky. I could deal with dangerous, standoffish Alex, even angry-asshole Alex.
I could not deal with “nuzzle my neck as he carried me off to the bath he ran for me to alleviate my soreness after a night of out-of-this-world sex” Alex.
I couldn’t deal with that at all.
Who was that person, and what had they done to Alex, the rude asshole I’d come to know and love?
Holy smokes.
I kneeled for him.
Fucking kneeled and begged, and loved it.
Not for a moment did I feel degraded or looked down on or triggered.
I saw his need.
Saw how much he needed to feel in control—to take back control after letting me in and being vulnerable.
And it had been fucking amazing.
He was dominant, yes, but he wasn’t mean or thriving on inflicting pain, thank God.
A pleasure dom.
Wasn’t that what they’d called it? Because I sure felt worshipped and pleasured and cared for.
You’re beautiful and perfect, princess.
Damn.
I groaned, then sat up straight when the cab driver looked at me through the rearview mirror.
