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He could do whatever he wanted to her and she could do nothing to stop him. Her pulse sped up and it had not been slow in the first place. Rationally, she knew she wasn’t in danger, but still…
“I’m not moving from the bed unless you tell me to,” he advised her. “Think of me as a marionette, if you like. Pull my strings and I do as you command.”
His voice rang with the same authority it always had, creating the strangest paradox. Only Warren could pull off maintaining his masculinity while simultaneously telling her she controlled him. The liquid threads of her desire elongated as she traversed the ocean of carpet toward the bed.
“Then I want you to stay there. I’m going to take this robe off,” she told him. “And when I do, I want to see how much you like what’s underneath.”
If it went the way she hoped, she could gauge his reactions. He couldn’t surprise her.
“I’m fairly certain that was going to happen anyway.” He jerked his chin at his lower half. “Goes with the territory of wearing something that has no shot of disguising how much you turn me on.”
That was such a delicious point that she couldn’t resist testing it out. Slowly, she untied the robe but didn’t open it. Instead, she slipped off one shoulder, and then the other, holding the robe closed as she let the fabric ride her breasts.
“That’s a gorgeous color on you,” he said huskily as he noted the straps of her outfit. “I can’t wait to see the rest of it.”
She let the robe fall, unveiling the baby doll all at once. The noise he made in his throat warmed her, and he sat up but made no move to leave the bed, as promised. His gaze hungrily drifted over her, catching at all the right places as he drank in the details. His shorts gained a prominent bulge, the outline of which drew her gaze.
“This is more difficult than I thought.” His voice had gone thin and hoarse. “I want to touch you so badly.”
But he wasn’t going to. Unless she gave him permission. His expression burned with longing—a desire he was denying himself because he’d told her he would. The control was so heady that a smile bloomed, and it was wicked.
“It so happens that I want you to touch me.”
His gaze zeroed in on hers, hot, hungry, edgy. But he didn’t so much as flex a muscle in her direction, exercising extreme patience and mastery of himself. She couldn’t help but appreciate both.
“Give me more parameters, Tilda. Here? There? Touch you how?”
All of the above. She was still in control and he was proving it to her moment by moment. The last of her anxiety dissolved and she waltzed to the bed, pushing him back onto the mattress. She crawled up the length of his body and straddled him, settling against that bulge until it nested into her core exactly the way she wanted it.
“Put your hands on my breasts,” she instructed, and when he reached up, her insides went slick with need. But not panic. There was a huge difference. Of course he could easily flip their positions, but she trusted he wasn’t going to do that.
The first firm contact of his palms on the underside of her breasts felt better than anything she’d imagined. Then his thumbs flicked across her taut nipples, tugging her core so hard that she gasped. “More.”
He stroked again and then reversed the position of his hands, sliding his thumbs under the fabric to touch her bare skin. “What else would you like, Tilda? My mouth?”
She nodded because speaking didn’t seem to work too well as he leaned up to flick his tongue across her covered nipple, wetting the silk.
“Pull down the fabric,” she murmured, and cool air kissed her aching breasts a moment later. “Suck on me.”
His lips closed around one nipple and the swirl of his tongue lit her up inside. Fortunately, she had the perfect hard length to grind against, and he was right there, circling his hips to create greater friction at her core. She fell into the fire, eyes closed, sensation exploding through her body.
This was nothing like she’d expected. Having a man do exactly as she directed was far more thrilling than she would have guessed.
Warren switched to the other breast without being told, laving at her flesh so expertly that she couldn’t argue that she hadn’t wanted it. She did. She wanted it all. Gasping out his name, she tangled her fingers in his hair, arching her back to give him better access. His teeth scraped across her nipple so exquisitely that she felt it all the way to her toes.
Wrapping her legs around him, she urged him closer with her heels, wishing she’d had the foresight to skip the underwear. But wasn’t that the benefit of having a man at her full command?
