Page 76 of Savage Surrender

My knees sink into the thick rug as I crawl from the mattress to his chair, hips swaying, hair falling around my shoulders.

When I reach him, I sit back on my heels.

Weller says nothing as he pats his thigh.

I put one hand on his knee and rise. He gently arranges me across his thighs, settling my stomach over where he strains against his pants.

Oh.

The position leaves my upper body angled toward the rug and my ass lifted. Weller’s fingers follow the mess still slipping down my thigh, gathering it before he pushes it back inside me.

I squirm over his lap, and the moan that slips out only gets worse when his fingers withdraw. He spreads his hand across one cheek. His thumb reaches the crease, close enough to where I want him that my hips move before I can stop them.

“How are your heat symptoms?”

“Better.” I test the answer against the haze in my head. It’s still here but the orgasm brought relief. “More under control.”

“Then you were in sufficient control to know what you were doing when you made Owen choose between my direction and yours.”

“That sounds like a leadership problem.”

Weller’s palm settles heavily over my ass. “It sounds like you wanted a consequence.”

My pussy clenches against his thigh.

“Do you still want my hand, Bianca?”

I look back at him over my shoulder. “Did you think I would change my mind?”

“I think you would continue a bad idea through organ failure to avoid admitting you miscalculated.”

Tristan makes an appreciative sound.

“Ten,” he says. “If you want me to stop, you say stop. Don’t endure something you no longer want merely to prove you can.”

“That’s very romantic of you.”

“Do you understand?”

I wiggle my ass beneath his hand. “Perfectly.”

His arm closes around my waist, locking me against him. “Put your hands on the floor.”

I lower my palms to the rug. Blood rushes toward my head, and from this angle I can see Tristan’s bare feet near the towel, Freddie kneeling at the edge of the mattress, and Owen sitting back with a satisfied look on his face, his cock still wet from me.

Weller makes me wait until my muscles tremble with the effort of holding the position. His palm remains warm and heavy on my ass, doing absolutely nothing. Not a twitch.

In the quiet tension of the room, all I can focus on is my pathetic breathing.

“Are you planning to start sometime tonight?”

“You’ve exhausted enough of my patience for one evening.” His thumb strokes once through the crease beneath my ass. “Now you may use some of yours.”

The first strike cracks through the room.

Heat flashes across my skin a fraction before the sting catches up. I jerk over his lap with a sharp sound that turns embarrassingly close to a laugh, more startled than hurt.

“One.”