Page 96 of Lethal Attraction

She turns her head towards me—an absolute vision. Her cheeks are flushed and she looks utterly wanton as she pants. Her cheeks are soaked with her tears of pleasure as she stares up at me through her lashes.

“Kiss me,” she commands.

I press forward, slamming my lips to hers as we groan into each other. Our movements are slow as our pulses calm and everything settles around us. When we pull away, I rest my forehead against hers, soaking her in.

“You’ve been very bad this morning,” she muses.

I chuckle breathlessly. “I have…”

She hums. “Which means your punishment isn’t over.”

“I figured as much,” I say before nipping at her bottom lip. “I’m yours to control, Little Devil.”

She smiles wickedly. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

I’m at her feet in the kitchen, my thighs tucked under me as Thalia moves around the stove. She’s humming a light tune, ignoring my presence altogether as she cooks breakfast. She holds the leash attached to my collar in her free hand, dragging me around as she works.

It should be humiliating and degrading. It is, but I’m so fucking turned on by it that I can’t even think past the fact that she’s ignoring me on purpose. Because if she doesn’t pretend not to notice me, then she would be giving me the attention I want from her.

I reach out for her leg again, running my fingers up her bare, pale skin. She halts for a moment before returning to cooking.

“If you’re going to touch me, you know what you need to do for attention.” She sings.

I press down lower, bringing my lips to the tops of her feet as I trail kisses upward. Every touch feels like fucking heaven, and when I finally sense her eyes on me, satisfaction erupts in my chest.

Her hand comes down on my head, and she begins to pet me with slow strokes. “Good boy.”

My body shivers at her praise as my cock pulses. I look down at myself for a second, taking in the new ink that stretches along my thighs and the initials at the base of my member.

Maybe I am crazy, because seeing her mark on me makes pride swell in my chest. I’m hers. And she’s showing me that.

She finishes breakfast before grabbing a plate and a bowl from one of the cabinets. She drags me behind her as she takes a seat at the oak dining room table. She points at her feet, commanding me to stay.

It’s almost comical to see us from the outside. I’m twice the size of her, yet here I am, at her beck and call like a dog. She looks utterly pleased with herself, too as she sets my bowl of eggs and bacon down in front of me.

“No hands,” she says as she takes a bite of her food.

I roll my lips in so she can’t see my amusement as I lower my head and take the first bite. The yolk of the egg drips messily, coating my mouth as I eat. I can feel Thalia’s eyes on me, and that’s exactly what I want, so I keep going until I’ve cleaned my whole bowl. I sit back with a sigh, and she smiles as she grabs a napkin and begins to dab at the corners of my lips.

“Attaboy,” she coos as her thumb brushes over my cheek.

I turn into her touch, letting my eyes flutter closed as I kiss her palm. She returns to eating, and I wait like the obedient fucker I am, pining after her attention desperately.

When she’s done, she sits back, crosses her legs, and uses her toe to tilt my chin up to her. “Wash the dishes, and I might let you off easy this time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I swallow as I rise and gather her plate and my bowl. I lean forward, stopping an inch from her cheek. “Permission to kiss you?”

She offers her face to me, and I brush my lips along her jaw before kissing her cheek affectionately. She can’t hide her smile as I retreat to the sink and clean up our breakfast. I place the dishes on the drying rack before turning to face her.

She tilts her head as she rakes her eyes over me as if she’s deep in thought over what to do. “I need to put some cream on your tattoos.”

“Oh, really?” I ask as I scratch the back of my neck. “I’ve never had any before…”

She rises before bouncing over to me and taking my hand in hers. She drags me out to the living room before pointing at the sofa. I sink down and she retreats upstairs for something only to return seconds later with a tube of cream in her hands.

She sinks down beside me, uncapping it as she squeezes a generous glob onto her finger. Her face softens as she begins to rub the cool substance over my tattoos with gentle passes.

I settle back into the dark sofa, looking behind me at something magnificent. Resting on the couch is a crocheted blanket with small, intricate designs of different colors, as if the yarn used changed halfway through it. It’s bold while still being delicate and beautiful in its originality. I’m absolutely stunned by how amazing it is…