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She hesitated, thinking about refusing, but if she trusted him to tie her up, and to not tell anyone she stole cars, she could trust him with a few naughty pictures, right? “You won’t show anyone?”
“Of course not. It’s just for me.”
“Okay.” Was he just flattering her, or would he actually look at the pictures again sometime? Damn. What if he lay back in bed and jerked off looking at them? She visualized him stroking himself while staring at a pic of her naked ass and she blushed hotly.
She heard him take out his phone and the click of a photo being taken, then he held his phone in front of her to show her the picture. In the shot, it was obvious she was nude and in a very submissive headspace, but the angle kept her face and the more intimate parts of her body private. He’d made her look beautiful.
“So how many pictures like that are on your phone?”
He leaned closer. “Just the one of you,” he breathed in her ear. “Because you’re perfect.”
She mewled and shuddered at the caress of his breath, glad he was kind enough to lie. If it wasn’t a lie, though . . . it moved things to dangerous territory. It might mean something she wasn’t ready for.
“I could take pictures of you all day,” he said, looking from her to the phone, as though contemplating taking more.
“Nooo,” she said, feeling self-conscious. “You should touch me, instead.”
“You think so?”
She nodded, arching her back to thrust her breasts out further, trying to lure him closer again.
“Touch you here?” His hands hovered over her breasts.
“Uh-huh.”
“Hands and knees.”
She went to her hands and knees immediately, even though it made her feel like a circus animal. “Do I get a treat?”
He smacked her ass then ran his hands over her body like he owned her, kneading her flesh, groping her, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers. Her whole body shook with need before he went anywhere near her clit. When he finally worked his way downward, he squeezed her labia together, frustrating her even more. A finger drew a line from her pussy up toward her ass. She squeezed her eyes closed and tensed, but didn’t stop him. He brushed the tip of his finger back and forth over her anus, sending jolts of mortifying desire through her.
“You really don’t want to like this.”
“Stop,” she begged, afraid to move.
“Hmm . . . not your safeword, so I don’t believe you honestly want me to stop.” He paused, but when she didn’t say anything, he chuckled quietly. “You stay so still when you don’t like something, but you do the same when you really do. It’s hard to tell which is which,” he mused.
Maybe her mouth was hanging open, but at least she was managing not to moan. A finger slid into her pussy and the sound she’d been holding in escaped from her mouth as a loud moan.
“Hmm. Are you all right, Addison? You sound like you’re upset about something.”
If he was expecting an answer, he was going to be disappointed. She dug her nails into the ottoman, gritting her teeth as he pumped his finger inside her and toggled her clit. The room’s heavy air-conditioning chilled the sweat that had broken out on her skin. Between the release of tension after her long tattoo session, and the renewed stress on her body, she was overwhelmed.
She wasn’t going to beg. Not again. It couldn’t end up with her being the one who lost control every time they fooled around. Maybe it wasn’t a fair contest if he didn’t know about it, but if he fucked her before he made her beg, she won. That was fair, right?
“I’m fine,” she said tightly. “Just . . . fuck me already.” Huh. That had probably been the wrong thing to say.
“Fine? Am I boring you?” He grabbed her by the back of the hair, right against the scalp and pulled her to her feet, then higher until she was standing on her toes and whimpering. “Oh, baby girl. You have no idea how much I love that sound.”
Maintaining his tight grip on her hair, he walked her across the large open space to the bedroom. The bed was made up with expensive-looking fresh white linens. If this place still secretly ran as a hotel, it was a really high-end one.
He let go of her hair and shoved her onto the bed hard enough she bounced, then grabbed her ankle and dragged her closer. His weight dipped the bed, and before she knew what he was planning to do, she was draped facedown over his lap. At least the mattress wasn’t letting her dangle, even if it felt like her ass was much higher up than the rest of her.
“I thought you weren’t into being a capital D Dominant.” It sounded grumpy, but she had a serious case of blue balls, and he didn’t seem to be in a rush to fix that anymore.
“No, no, sunshine. I don’t like titles,” he corrected. “They’re limiting. But as you know, I do enjoy being in control—of you, specifically.”
Why was the fact that he was still fully dressed making her feel even more submissive to him? She tried to squirm away, but he held her in place without effort. Damn him and those big, sexy muscles.
