Page 35 of Mr. Match

Chapter Sixteen - KATYA

I need to pretend. This is the part he’s not understanding at the moment. But I’m winning. I’m naked, he’s almost naked, so I take his hand and start walking towards the stairs.

“Hey.” Oliver stops, making me look over my shoulder at him. “Who the fuck put you in charge?”

I don’t hide my smile when he lets go of my hand. “Well, there he is,” I say. “That bossy asshole I’ve come to love. It’s about time you showed up.”

Oliver stares at me, his whole demeanor changed. His fingers begin unbuckling his belt and my heart speeds up with anticipation. He pulls it through the loops of his jeans and reaches for my hands, binding the leather around my wrists and cinching it tight.

“I’m not the one who left, Katya.” His blue-gray eyes burn into mine. They are like a thunderstorm. I see all the anger he keeps locked behind those turbulent clouds and then, in the span of a moment, it disappears.

“Do whatever you want,” I say. “I’m fine. I’m up for it.” I bring my bound hands up to his chest, flattening my palms against his skin.

“But you’re not,” he says. One last lingering look. And then he pushes me away, walks towards the couch, tugging me along by the tether, and bends me over the back of it.

A hard slap makes my bottom burn. I take a moment to breathe through the hot pain and imagine the mark he just left on my skin.

It makes me moan.

Another slap on the other cheek has me gasping.

But then there’s the soothing sensation of his fingers playing with the soft folds of skin between my legs. The pool of wetness shows up, right on cue.

“How should I fuck you tonight, Katya? Bent over like this?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Now.” He has no idea how much I need sex right now.

Oliver grabs my long hair and pulls my head up, but at the same time he leans over my body, pressing his chest into my shoulder blades. His hips grind against the back of my legs, letting me know that his dick is hard. His breath tickles my ear. “In the ass?”

“Please,” I say. “I’m not too proud to beg.”

He pushes my head down and stands up. The heat we were creating is immediately gone. He walks around the couch and stands in front of me.

“Shove my cock down your throat? Make you choke on my balls?”

“Oliver.” I laugh. “What part of ‘whatever you want’ don’t you get?”

“Katya,” he says, mimicking my tone. “What part of ‘I like a little fight’ don’t you get?”

“Can we please fight later?” I shoot back.

He smiles. But drops it just as quick. “Maybe you’re just not into me?”

I scowl at him. And then I stand up and start running. I slip on the polished concrete floors, almost crash into the dining table on the far side of the room, and his fingertips graze my back as I escape around one side of the massive kitchen island.

“You wanna run away?” he yells, his eyes bright with fun as he stares me down from the opposite side.

I place my bound hands on the cold, hard stone and lean forward, taunting him. “If you want it, come get it.”

He moves, I move, keeping the island between us. “What if I just order you to hold the fuck still? Will you obey?”

“Obey your bossy ass?” I snort. “Fuck, no. I’m gonna make you beg for it, Shrike.”

He smiles again and this time he doesn’t have the self-control to hide it. “I’ll make you pay for that.”

“I can’t wait.”

He makes another move, but I do too. My eyes are darting around the room. None of it is familiar. But I might be able to make a break for the stairs.