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A growl slipped between my teeth. “I wasn’t sleepy. You drugged me.”
He trailed his fingers through my hair. “We both needed a good night’s rest.” His lips curved in a fond smile as he stroked my wrists, expressing his pleasure with my bound state. “My mood is much improved this morning.”
I rolled my eyes. “How wonderful for you. Mine is not.”
“I can see that. So, I’m going to work on adjusting your attitude.”
Before I could demand to know what exactly that meant, his hand clamped over my mouth, threatening to smother me like he had when he’d stolen a kiss yesterday.
“No biting, pet,” he reminded me sternly. “I want my goodbye kiss.”
I glared at him and jerked against my restraints. Everything was about what he wanted. Despite his declarations that he didn’t like when I was upset, he only truly cared about his own pleasure. He didn’t like when I was sad because that state of being ruined his fun. Now, he would force another kiss on me, whether I wanted it or not. My needs and desires had no impact on his actions whatsoever.
His free hand tangled in my hair, taking full control of even my smallest range of movement.
“Don’t be difficult, kitten,” he chided. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”
That’s what I’m afraid of. The dark retort remained locked behind my lips, caged within my mouth by his punitive hand.
He released me, and I couldn’t help but gasp for air. He lowered his mouth to mine, his kiss much slower and more self-indulgent than his bruising exploration of my lips the last time he played this game with me. The gentler approach allowed me to recover more quickly, but he anticipated my defiance.
Rather than choking me, his big hand cupped my jaw, his thumb and forefinger applying pressure to both sides of my face. A small sound of protest passed wordlessly from my throat, my ability for speech robbed by his steady hold. He gripped my jaw with just enough force to prevent my teeth from sinking into his plundering lips, keeping me on the edge of discomfort without inflicting true pain.
His fingers remained firm on my face, but his other hand released my hair, so he could play with other parts of my body. He didn’t go straight for my breasts or pussy—the most obvious targets for an aroused man intent on sexual gratification. Instead, he began a slow, thorough exploration of my most minute pleasure points.
He started around my ears, mapping out my smallest triggers on areas of my body that I’d always thought were benign. Already, it seemed he’d begun this little subversive study while bathing me yesterday, but I’d been too overwhelmed to realize what he was doing. He seemed intent on committing each of my tiny vulnerabilities to memory so that he could use them against me whenever he wanted to make me melt.
His fingertips traced the shell of my ear, his rough callouses lighting up sensory receptors I hadn’t known were so intense. He worked his way down, finding pressure points behind my ears and along my neck, rubbing each spot in little circular motions until the tension in my muscles systematically released.
By the time his fingers trailed along my collarbones, my thoughts were slowing, suspended in warm honey. His other hand remained at my jaw, but he no longer forcibly held my mouth open; he hovered there as a precaution, prepared to return to harsher methods of control if I managed to regain my wits.
But I was already too far gone, drowning in the heady release from fear and spite. His insidious influence sank into my psyche, blanketing the rage that ensured my survival and slowly smothering it into submission.
His tongue teased between my lips, testing my surrender. I shuddered at the delicious invasion, tipping my head back and inviting him to take more. He claimed everything that I offered, subjugating my mouth in deep, deliberate strokes.
His hand trailed lower on my chest, his fingers dipping beneath the lace at the neckline of my nightgown. My nipples were hard peaks, and they throbbed beneath the silky glide of the delicate fabric. His touch turned lazier, unhurried. The more his progress toward my aching buds slowed, the more desperate I became for direct stimulation.
My sex softened, slick arousal teasing my inner thighs. My clit pulsed, and my core contracted, the deep ache throbbing in time with my nipples.
I arched into his hand, whining into his mouth in a wordless plea for more. He’d stoked my pleasure until it was so keen that my most sensitive parts hurt, my erogenous zones swollen until the pressure was almost unbearable.
His fingers moved lower, suddenly quick and deft. I cried out as sensation knifed through my nipples, the sharp burst of pleasure inflicted by the lightest brush of his hand over my nightgown.
