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He continued to explore my mouth, tracing the line of my lower lip with his tongue before nipping it with his teeth. The little shock of pain sparked a response from a deeper, darker corner of my psyche, triggering a lustful reaction. My nipples pebbled, peaking against the inside of his shirt. The fabric teased across the sensitive buds, lighting up pleasure centers that hadn’t reacted to a man’s touch in years.
His hand eased on my neck, allowing me to draw a full breath.
His tongue surged inside my mouth, stroking mine in a thorough, wicked claim that stirred memories of the last time I’d kissed Stefano Duarte. Warmth pooled low in my belly, and my clit pulsed.
My tongue moved against his, tentatively at first. His rumble of approval sank into me, rolling through my heated flesh to stimulate my core. My kiss became more frenzied; hungry and needy. Until this moment, I’d forgotten the blissful release of physical pleasure, the sweet intimacy of human connection.
His fingertips stroked the column of my neck, the threat of his punitive hand withdrawn. I arched into him, pressing my tight nipples against his chest and inviting him to claim my mouth more deeply. For the first time in years, my core felt achingly empty, and I craved for him to fill me up with his hard cock.
I jerked against his hold on my arms again. I didn’t want to escape this time; I wanted to pull him closer.
His fingers closed tighter around my wrists, the squeeze accompanied by a warning bite on my lower lip. I shuddered and softened beneath him, acknowledging that I couldn’t control this kiss. I couldn’t control how he touched me or when he gave me pleasure.
Being completely under a man’s power should have reignited my fear responses, but I was too far gone. My body remembered Stefano and the ecstasy of his domineering hands on my most intimate places.
A soft whine left my chest when he broke the kiss, denying me. The hand that had choked me shifted to stroke my cheek, and his thumb rubbed over my swollen lips, stimulating the sensual nerve endings he’d awakened.
His dark eyes roved over my face, as though memorizing each of my features.
“Carmen…” His deep, velvet voice caressed my name before he brushed another kiss against my mouth, gentle and tender. “Mine,” he murmured, the possessive declaration rumbling over my sensitized lips. “All mine.”
My heart twisted in my chest, the disconcerting sensation accompanied by a pulse between my legs. I pressed them together, attempting to alleviate my body’s shameful response. My cheeks burned when I noted the slick heat on my inner thighs, an unmistakable sign of arousal. I suddenly became very aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing underwear; my nakedness was covered only by Stefano’s shirt. Despite the illusion of modesty, I felt stripped bare, exposed.
I squirmed beneath him, my struggle pathetically weak. As though I didn’t truly want him to let me go.
“Get off me.” My demand left my lips on a ragged whisper.
“No.” His firm refusal was punctuated by his hand at my throat. He didn’t apply pressure this time, but the threat was clear: further resistance would not be tolerated.
Something had shifted in his demeanor since he’d left me this morning. He was harsher, more unyielding. I could see now that he’d been toying with me before, enjoying my fierce defiance as though we were engaging in playful banter. The man who stole my very breath to claim a kiss wasn’t playing.
My stomach flipped, but the traitorous desire between my legs grew slicker.
“We’re going to get a few things straight, kitten.” Despite the almost violent way he’d handled my body, his tone was controlled but stern. “You can fight me because I allow it. I enjoy it. Even when you’re resisting me, you’re still under my control. I know you don’t want to accept that truth yet, but by the time you do, you’ll love our games as much as I do. Even now, you don’t really want to win. You want me to force you to submit, because then you don’t have to take the responsibility for your own surrender.”
“You’re wrong,” I protested, shaken to my core. “I don’t want to submit. I don’t want you to touch me.”
“That’s my good kitten,” he purred, stroking the column of my neck with his thumb. “Keep denying it. I can feel your tight little nipples pressing into my chest. If I touched your aching clit, I’d find that you’re wet for me. But I won’t,” he continued before I could counter with a lie. “I won’t touch you until you’re so desperate that you come undone at the lightest brush of my fingers. Then, I’ll take more. I won’t stop, not even when you beg me to. You will weep for mercy, and you’ll find that I have none. I will shatter you.”
