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I think she loves me and just won’t admit to it. If I thought she didn’t, this would be different—my approach anyway. I spent half my life begging people to love me. I’m not doing that again. So, if there’s no love on her end, I’ll have to get creative and chain her to me. I crave those words from her though. Other than her in my arms, I’ve never wanted anything more. But either way, she will learn to believe in us, to have faith in me, and to fight for us. Insisting upon that is me loving her even if she doesn’t understand the gravity of what we’re up against. It’s the only way she’ll survive.
My methods may be flagrantly brash, but everyone in Celeste’s life hides things from her in a wad of cotton candy. She needs to face the brutality of this world as much as she needs to believe in the protection I’ll provide.
The steam room. The bloody shower sex. The warning of what I’ll do if a man touches her. All to show her who she’s getting. Deep down, it’s what she longs for. I saw it the night with Dustin Barclay. She was aghast that I threatened him but turned on. For once, someone didn’t prance around what they wanted. It scared her but enlivened her too.
She was groomed for a life of looking pretty and applauding beside some fake fucker at a podium. What a waste of a smart, talented, and strong-ass woman. I might be a dark angel, spreading my version of Hell like a forest fire, burning those who are slightly more wicked than me with an unrepentant smirk on my face. But I see her, not just the polished sparks she’s been taught to flaunt, but also the blackened embers she struggles to snuff out. I’ll be the guy who stokes them, who snicks open my Zippo, tosses it to her, and revels in the warmth of her sweeping flames. She was born to set this world ablaze.
Contemplative. Compassionate. Strategic. Drawn to affliction. Finding power in pain. It’s seared into all she is, visible to anyone wise enough to delve into her depths.
To others, she’s champagne and caviar.
To me? Deep brown doe eyes sparkling with the lustrous glint of a hungry demon.
Gotta feed my naughty girl.
So, today, she starts training. Her first lesson will begin with her bare to me.
After hooking up all the cameras and alarms here to my computer and phone, I soothe any leftover angst with a snick, flick, flame while sauntering back upstairs to find my little demon. When I open the door, she’s stepping out from the bathroom in a sexy leather lingerie contraption. It hides little, a spiderweb of invitation. Tits bouncing. Full hips curved. Fuck-me heels elevating her legs so every soft bend is sultry and buoyant. But the most bewitching detail is my bite mark adorning her collarbone.
Christ Almighty.
Of course, no matter how sumptuous she looks, she didn’t obey.
“You were told to be naked,” I say sternly, masking any trace of the lust consuming me. My cock did not get the damn memo though—revolting painfully against my jeans zipper.
“That’s not what you said.” She struts to the far side of the bed, swaying that succulent ass with every fucking step. “You said clothes off. They are.” She’s got me there. An impish grin tips the corners of her mauve-painted lips. “Besides, you packed lingerie and regular apparel at a ratio of five to one.”
I smirk. That I did. “Your go bag should have you ready to go.”
“Right,” she deadpans. “Every getaway needs a girl in a pearl thong.”
Yep. That pair is sexy as hell. She’ll definitely be wearing those for me—the pearls should line up perfectly with her clit, so I’m anticipating a big, fat thank you.
“Now you’re getting it, Ace. But not any girl. Only you will do.”
Her teeth sink into her lip, the swell of her breasts rising with a caught breath. Wicked whiskey eyes fluttering with a flirtatious glimmer. My coy little cocktease.
I amble over to a leather club chair, making myself comfortable, legs spread wide, hands on my lap in preparation. There’s a staggering view of the Smoky Mountains beyond the wall of glass, but I only see her. “We have some matters that need addressed.”
“Do we?” She juts her round hip to the side, her espresso locks cascading over her shoulder to curtain her full expression—surely one of provocative challenge.
Fuck me, she’s mouthwatering. This will be fun but require far more self-control than I typically have. For her anyway. A test for us both. Sex was never like this before. An all-consuming event.
“Yes,” I state firmly. “Your doubt and sass need to be overcome.”
She tilts her head to the side, a roguish pout to her mouth, feigning innocence in the most salacious way. “And how might we go about that, sir?”
The honorific barely registers as she bends over the bed, adjusting a pillow or some shit. No idea. That’s not my focal point. Nope. That’s on the seductive wiggle of her ass.
She’s a lifetime of wet dreams in the flesh.
This little show looks to be her provoking me for a spanking. Not yet. She wants that too much. Instead, I dunk us into the ocean of resistance.
“Crawl to me,” I order.
That has her snapping upright with an incredulous glower. “Seriously?”
She blinks and glares, and I return the gesture.
