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His lip curled, that broken sneer, but she saw the flash of dangerous desperation in his gray eyes, almost dominated by dark pupil.
"Before you went into the prison, what did I tell you was going to be your first job when we came here tonight?" she asked.
"I don't care. I don't remember."
"Hmm. Okay." She slid her fingers into the waist band of the leggings, pushing them down far enough he'd see the lace edge of her burgundy panties as she dipped below it to stroke herself. "Too bad. Guess I'll take care of this myself. I'll think about Noah, Lyda's boy. How accommodating he is, how willing to please."
She tipped her head back with a little hum. "He can put his mouth between a woman's thighs and get her worked up in no time with that tongue stud of his. He turns a woman's pussy into a feast and makes her fe
el like a seven-course meal he's going to enjoy one tiny nip, lick and suck at a time."
"I won't be gentle," he said harshly.
She brought her head back up, sharpening her gaze. He'd shifted forward, but she was all too aware he hadn't closed the distance between them yet.
"Earlier today, your Mistress gave you permission to be rough," she said evenly. "Or did you miss it, because your head was too far up your ass?"
He was on her within the next breath. His forward momentum slammed them into the wall, his hip hitting the side table and lamp. The items toppled, the lamp tumbling over the easy chair next to it. Her shoulder blades made bruising contact with the wall, and she hoped the people next door didn't think they were coming through, if there were any tenants there. But then she had no more thoughts except for the here and now, and the male whose rage and need overflowed, commanding her absolute attention.
He pulled the right cup of her bra down and seized her breast in a calloused palm. He clamped his mouth on it, sucking, pulling, biting. She writhed away and yanked at his hair, scratching his back hard enough to draw blood. "Do what you were told," she commanded. "I want your mouth between my legs."
He snarled against her flesh but swung them around, bringing her to the bed with his heart-stopping strength. He flipped and shoved her face down, her knees braced against the side of the bed, her feet planted on the floor. "First I'm fucking your ass. Your beautiful, round ass."
"No, you're not." She hooked his leg, twisted and tangled them into a heap that slid them both to the floor. Now she was on her back, and she pushed the leggings and panties to her thighs, stroking herself again as he reared up over her. "Do as you're told," she repeated.
He clamped his hands on her thighs, his lips curled in a snarl, but his eyes were riveted on her glistening labia. His cock was a mouthwatering thickness against his jeans, the violence driving him to an even more potent erection. Her pussy contracted against her fingers in reaction.
"Everything you're getting, I'm allowing you to take," she said through gritted teeth. "You're still not doing a damn thing without my permission. I won't let you. What's more, you won't let you. You need your Mistress, and that's the deal."
He stripped off his belt and bent over her, grabbing her hands and wrapping the strap around her wrists, cinching it up in the middle before linking it to one foot of the heavy dresser beside her. "Now I can do anything I want."
She laughed. "That's the point. What you want is your Mistress to command you. So stop talking and fuck me with your mouth already."
He stared down at her. She held his gaze without flinching, her body lifted and exposed by the restraint. They both knew the belt wasn't impossible for her to shake. He'd just been making a point. So had she.
The air conditioning unit cut off, leaving the room in total silence except for his rasping breath and her heart, pounding in her ears.
It was a slow-motion moment, everything focused on what might happen next. He swallowed, his gaze sliding down her body again. "My Mistress."
His voice still held darkness, but it had transformed, now hoarse and hollow.
"Yes, your Mistress," she said, low. "Your mouth, Duncan. I demand your mouth. Rough, hard, soft or gentle, just as we discussed. You'll stop when I tell you to stop and not a minute before, even if I make you do it until the sun rises."
She heard her heart beat a dozen times, still thundering in her ears, her throat, the pit of her stomach. When they'd knocked the lamp over, the bulb must have blown, because there was barely any light in the room, except for the hellfire in his gaze and the parking lot lights penetrating the sheer window panels. His lips tightened and then so did his hands on her hips.
With a deep, shuddering sigh that seemed to ripple through him like a desert hot wind, he bent and put his mouth on her.
Chapter Thirteen
She was ready for his anger. She hadn't calculated what everything this day had brought would pull from her. Finally getting the missing pieces--the traumatized boy who'd become a tormented man--had driven the emotional tide within her to overflowing. Especially when those emotions came face to face with what she already felt for him.
As a correctional officer, she knew there were bad men. But even in the worst of the worst, she occasionally glimpsed who they might have been if they'd chosen that different fork in the road. When she saw those flashes, she also sometimes caught the rare instance when the spark remained, the wish for what they could have been. Astronaut, firefighter, dragon slayer, the hero of the story instead of the villain. Instead of the dregs of society, relegated to a prison jumpsuit and locked away to be forgotten.
There were exceptions. The psychopaths like Don Larabee, born bad, coughed up from Hell. She couldn't fathom the divine power that would allow a child to be born to such a creature, a helpless victim from his first breath outside the womb. But in this room, on this night, she'd be the avenging goddess who would provide him her fury, her sex, her passion and fearlessness, to give him a safe haven for the full range of his feelings between grief and rage.
Or, in simpler terms, she was pissed, she cared about him, and if she couldn't bash his sperm-donor's brains out with a bat, she'd fuck the son senseless, until he let it all go inside the safety of her arms and body.
He pulled off her leggings and panties, leaving her naked. He didn't stop to savor or look, but dove on her as if he were jumping off a cliff into a welcoming tropical sea. When he buried his face between her legs, she wrapped them over his back. His hands came up and gripped, held on to her thighs and ass as he dedicated himself to pleasuring her, following her command. He started out forceful, impatient, but after that first wave, something settled and he was moaning with a painful relief, a vibration against her pussy as he immersed himself in the task she'd imposed on him.
