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“Things.” Her hips bucked, and her eyelids slid shut.
“Don’t you fucking come, Juliet.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice high and sulky, “Please, you have to let me come or you have to let me stop. I can’t stop myself if I keep . . .”
He got to his feet and walked behind her to whisper in her ear. “What did you imagine me doing?” Her hair stirred with his breath, and she started to gasp. Before she could come, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away.
“No, no!” She wriggled in his grasp as he crossed her arms over her stomach and held her there, squirming against his painfully hard cock. She rubbed against him shamelessly, fighting like a little hellcat to get what she wanted.
“Tell me or we’re going back over to that chair for your punishment.”
“What do you want to hear?” she asked, her voice low. “That I lie in bed fantasizing about what happened between us, and playing with myself? That I’ve been doing internet research and everything I found hot I’ve fantasized about doing with you?”
“Only if it’s true.” He cupped a breast in his palm and caught her nipple between his fingers. She mewled and ground against him even though she was too short to get him exactly where she wanted him.
“It’s true. I thought about starting to go to the club and getting some experience before I bothered you again.”
“Hoping to impress me, or make me jealous?”
“Hoping I could be a big girl and not have a fit if I ever played with you again.”
“If you thought about going to those lengths, why are you being so difficult?”
“I don’t know. I don’t mean to be, but I’m used to being the bossy one. You tell me what to do and my first instinct is to fight it.”
“Well, knowing that, how about you try to be a good girl for me?”
She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
When he stripped her bra and panties the rest of the way off, she didn’t say a word.
Chapter Eleven
As Will led her upstairs, Juliet’s heart hammered wildly, making even her legs shake.
His bedroom was masculine and subdued, mostly slate gray with a few pops of rust orange. Although it was big enough that there was even a seating area by the bay window, it had been separated into different sections so the space didn’t feel overwhelming. She couldn’t help but think someone else must have decorated the room. The bed, which she’d been trying to avoid looking at, was huge and four-poster, and although it seemed elegant enough, knowing what she knew about him, he probably tied women to it on a regular basis.
Unlike the rest of the house, though, this room looked unlived in. Maybe this wasn’t the master bedroom after all.
“Nice. Is this your guest room?”
“No. This is my bedroom.”
“You make your bed? Why do I find that so hard to believe?”
“I made it up with fresh linen a few days ago,” he admitted. “I usually sleep on the floor in Beau’s room, but a man can dream.”
How adorable was that?
He went into what she was guessing was the attached bathroom, and came back with a baby monitor, which he put on the nightstand. He must use the monitor when he was in the shower.
If they were loud, they’d wake the baby. She was just down the hall.
Ugh. This so wasn’t working for her. Having to be quiet for neighbors was one thing. She’s spent enough of her life tiptoeing around sleeping kids. She wanted adult time now.
“Maybe I should just head out,” she said.
“If you’re too afraid to stay, I understand, but don’t forget that you have a safeword and we can discuss any other hard limits you might have come across.”
