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Her lush lips pursed, and her dark brows drew together. I doubted that she realized that her irritated expressions had evolved into an adorable pout over the last week.
“Of course I have objections,” she replied tersely, her steps never faltering as she continued to close the distance between us. “You just don’t want to hear them.”
A lazy grin stretched my features, and I made no effort to hide my slow perusal of her body. Carmen had barely put up a fuss about the decidedly indecent clothing options I’d selected for her. Tonight, I’d dressed her in nothing but a silk robe, the bold shade of crimson setting off the bronze glow of her complexion beautifully. Only a single knot in the sash around her waist separated her soft skin from my plundering hands, and I intended to take full advantage of her scant clothing.
“On the contrary,” I countered, taking her delicate hand in mine, “I want to hear all of your opinions.”
“I don’t know why I even bother engaging with your insane games. You only want to hear my opinions so that you can irritate me by ignoring them.”
She rolled her eyes, but her breath caught when I guided her to sit on my lap, tucking her against my chest. She turned her cheek toward me, softening in my arms when she inhaled my scent. I wondered if she knew that I had noticed this sweet little habit of hers.
I chose not to tease her about it, because I didn’t want her to stop. She’d developed the habit since the night she’d awakened from the dark dream, locked in some unseen horror that I couldn’t pry out of her, no matter how subtly I went about it.
Despite the fact that she was generally less thorny and more receptive to my kisses and possessive touch, I hadn’t learned anything significant about her since that night.
I wanted to understand her mind, because the more time I spent with her, the more fascinated I became. All these years, I’d obsessed over learning everything about her that I possibly could. But knowing that she enjoyed a good mezcal and which brands of clothing she preferred didn’t really tell me anything about her. I could see that now that I had her all to myself.
I chuckled and brushed a doting kiss over her forehead. “You enjoy our games too, my clever kitten. But don’t worry. I won’t spoil our fun by making you admit it aloud.” I placated her before she could protest, running my fingers through her silky hair. As I did so, I deftly worked my way over each little pressure point that enforced her relaxation. She hardly made an effort to pretend that she didn’t like it.
Every day, she yielded a little more control, but it wasn’t enough. Not only was I suffering considerable physical discomfort from denying myself, but my glacial progress with Carmen was not going over well with my associates, particularly Arturo Flores. Even that little upstart, Daniel Vera, had dared to make a comment supporting Arturo in our last meeting.
They wanted a public demonstration of her submission. Everyone needed to see that I had conquered Carmen Ronaldo. That was the whole purpose of her capture.
Only, I had to think long-term. Dragging Carmen out to show her off now would humiliate her, and she would hate me forever.
That wasn’t an option.
I had tried to be patient, to lure her into accepting that she was more secure as my pet than anywhere else in our criminal underworld. She’d slipped up and revealed more than she intended when she’d wistfully described what home might feel like: It’s supposed to feel like safety, I guess.
She would come to understand the gravity of my power over her, and she would surrender more of herself to me. Only then would she be fit for me to take out in public. She would lean into my touch, openly accept my kiss.
No one would dare to harm her, because they would know she was mine.
I would provide Carmen with the safety of the home she yearned for, even if I had to employ subversive methods to achieve it.
“Time for dessert, kitten.” My voice dropped deeper, lust influencing my demeanor. My cock stiffened beneath her pert ass, but she didn’t try to squirm away; she’d become accustomed to the sign of my keen desire, and I’d never forced myself on her.
She might have gotten used to it, but no amount of time would ever help me mitigate the discomfort of painful arousal without release. Tonight would be the last night I endured this particularly cruel brand of self-imposed suffering.
Bracing one arm around her shoulders, I reached out with my free hand and removed the silver dome that covered the small dessert plate.
Her brow furrowed when she noted the meager offering: a single strawberry and a small pot of warm chocolate sauce. “Is that for you or me?” she asked drily, attempting to mask her curiosity with disdain.
