He moves like a shadow—quiet, inescapable. One step, then another, until my back hits the wall. Before I can draw a breath, he captures my hands in one of his much stronger ones and pins my wrists above my head.
“Xavier…” But it’s already too late. I didn’t give him what he wanted when he wanted it. And now he’s in total control.
Then he cups my sex with a hard, possessive pressure that makes me whimper.
“This”—he squeezes intentionally—”belongs to me. Are you clear?”
His grip isn’t painful, but there’s no doubt of his possessiveness or his seriousness.
“God, you’re soaked.” His voice is pitched low. “I can feel the heat of you through this little scrap of fabric. You’re trembling for me, aren’t you?”
Deliberately he slips his fingers into my panties and strokes between my folds, teasing, parting me with wicked skill. “So soft. So fucking wet already.” With the pad of his thumb, he grazes my clit, smiling when my knees buckle. “You love this. Don’t you? Being touched. Being claimed.”
I gasp as he slips one finger inside, then another, curling them so that he finds my G-spot. If he hadn’t been holding me trapped, I wouldn’t have been able to stand.
He thrusts shallowly, then curls. Again. Again. Until I’m panting, hips arching into his palm, my inner thighs quaking from the pressure building inside me.
“That’s it, Seraphina. Let me feel you fall apart.”
His mouth crashes onto mine, the kiss hot and deep and filthy. He drives me up and over until I’m moaning into his mouth, clinging to him, clenching around his fingers.
“See how wet you are for me? Only me. Come. Now.”
The orgasm rips through me with shocking force. His mouth swallows every sound I make. His fingers stay buried, working me through every aftershock until I’m boneless. Helpless. And completely undone.
“Good girl. See how wet you are for me?”
With his touch, his command, he destroys me.
He continues to hold me until my breathing is more normal. When he finally eases his fingers from my pussy and releases my wrists, I’m shaking from loss of control.
His gaze drops to the soaked fabric clinging between my thighs. “Take them off, Seraphina. And give them to me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Is he mad? He wants my damp underwear? “You’re not serious.”
Implacably he folds his arms and waits. He hasn’t backed off, and there’s no way past him.
Overwhelmed by what he’s just done, as well as his sensual demand, I hold on to the hand he offers and peel the scrap of satin down my legs. After I step out of them, he scoops them from the floor.
As I watch, astounded, he folds the fabric and slips it into his back pocket like some sort of trophy.
My jaw drops. “Why would you?—”
“Now let me ask you, Ms. Hollis”—he leans toward me, his jade-green eyes glittering—“any questions about who you belong to or whose orders you follow? Or have we settled that discussion?”
“I…” Unable to think straight, I finger comb the mess of my hair. In this moment, I believe that he means exactly what he said. And he won’t be satisfied without my surrender. “The matter is settled.”
He narrows his eyes. “We don’t have to have this discussion again?”
When I whisper, “No,” he nods his satisfaction.
Finally he takes a step back, giving me room to breathe, and I need it. Lord, how I need it… “Just let me put on a fresh pair of panties.”
“Skip them.”
