Page 56 of Suite 7

A tightness I’ve carried for years starts to loosen.

Her gaze drops to my mouth before lifting. One corner of her lips curves up, that slant that means she’s made a decision.

She steps closer while her hand slides slowly up my chest, trailing heat through the fabric of my shirt.

“I think I’m ready for a lesson,” she murmurs, voice dropping into that honeyed register that goes straight to my cock. “My Dom’s lesson.”

Her fingers thread into my hair, nails grazing lightly against my scalp in a way that makes my jaw tighten.

“I want to know what it feels like.” Her other hand traces down my chest. “Here. In your space. With you.”

She rises on her toes, pulling me down, and kisses me.

And, fuck, I’m only human.

For a heartbeat I let myself sink into it. Into her. The way she tastes, the way she feels pressed against me, the small sound she makes when I pull her closer. Her mouth is demanding, hungry. She kisses like she’s already won.

And it’s working.

My hands find her waist, then slide up to find warm skin under her sweater. She arches into me with a sharp inhale, gasping against my mouth. Her tongue sweeps against mine, bold and claiming —

The fog clears.

I catch her wrists and pull back.

“Stop.”

She makes a frustrated sound, tries to twist free, but I hold firm. That fire in her, the one that shows up in everything she does, flares hot as she pulls against my grip.

Good. I like her with teeth.

But she needs to learn when to use them.

“Vera.” My voice comes out rough. “What are you doing?”

“Seducing you.” She’s breathing hard, eyes blazing. “Is it working?”

“Yes.” I won’t lie to her. “But that’s not how this works.”

“Why not?” She’s still fighting my hold, enough to test it. “You want me, I want you, you have this whole room⁠—”

“I do. But not like this.” I shift my grip, firmer, watching her pupils blow wide at the restraint. “You’re trying to control the scene. Using our desire to get what you want right now instead of trusting my timing.”

But she’s not quite done.

She shifts against me, a deliberate press of her hips, and the breath she releases is that soft unguarded sound she can’t quite control.

“Seems like you want it too,” she says.

I catch both her wrists and pin them behind her back with one hand. She gasps, and I see the moment the position registers — the moment she realizes how easily I can take the control she’s trying to steal.

“Vera.” I hold her gaze. “You’re trying to take control in a dynamic where you agreed to surrender it. Using your body to manipulate the situation instead of trusting me.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it.

“Are you going to punish me for it?” she asks, that bratty edge sharpening her voice even with her wrists pinned, her chin tilting up the way she has — half challenge, half invitation.

I meet her eyes and pull her harder against me, letting her feel exactly what she’s been doing to me, letting that be its own answer before I speak. “Do you want me to punish you?”