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"Why the hell did you stop?" She pants, "I was so close."
I smile and she flushes. "You better finish what you started,stronzo."
I chuckle, "I see you’ve been brushing up on your Italian."
"I see you’ve been brushing up on your alphaholeness." She bares her teeth, and fuck me, but her anger is such a turn on.
I wrap my fingers about the nape of her neck, then rise to my feet and pull her up with me. The dress falls to the floor and she stands there, clad only in her lacy thong, surrounded by the yards of fabric that make up her dress.
She trembles and her eyes gleam. "How dare you?" she snarls. "How dare you withhold my orgasm?"
"Because I can?" I keep my fingers around the nape of her neck as I circle to stand in front of her, "Because I’d prefer to mark you first; because you need to earn every single orgasm, from now on."
"Bugger off." She tosses her head, "If you think I am going to do a single thing that you ask of me, then you are sadly mistaken."
"We’ll see." I press the tip of the knife into the skin between her breasts, and she shivers. "You may deny it, but everything in you yearns for my touch, for me to etch my sign of ownership into your skin, for me to tattoo the symbol of my possession onto you, to own you, to dominate you, as only I can."
Her pupils dilate and her breathing grows more ragged. She wants everything I can do to her. I have no doubt about it. She wants my body, wants the pleasure I can wring from her, yet she resists me, resists submitting to me, resists allowing herself to trust me. Not that I have given her any reason to do so, but if she wants me to complete what I started then she is going to put herself in my hands completely. I step back, wipe the blade on my sleeve, then slip it into my sheath.
Turning I head for the exit, when she calls out, "Wait."
I keep walking.
"Damnit, Michael, stop."
I reach the door, and she draws in a breath. "Please," she whispers, "please stop."
"What’s that?" I pause, but don’t turn, "I don’t think I heard you."
"Bastard," she bites out, and I push open the door.
"Please," she begs, "please stop, Michael."
I turn to glance at her over my shoulder.
"Are you going to leave me here?"
"It would seem that way."
"But…but…it’s freezing."
"Those yards of fabric," I glance down at the dress strewn about her feet, "I am sure they can finally be put to good use."
She pales. "I hate you," she declares. "I bloody hate you."
I tilt my head, "Which doesn’t matter to me one bit, you understand?"
"What do you want from me?" She folds her fingers at her sides, "Why are you doing this to me?"
"You brought this on yourself, Beauty, when you tried to kill me."
"You kidnapped me first."
"So?" I look her up and down, "I am the one who holds the power here."
"Like you’ll ever let me forget that."
"No, but it’s time you realize how serious I am about you acknowledging it too."
"And if I don’t?"
I bare my teeth, "I am looking forward to convincing you otherwise."
Turning, I head out of the door, then stop. "There’s one more thing," I stare at her over my shoulder, "you will not come until I give you permission."
