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“Bullshit. We have something.”
Her mouth thins. “And what’s that?”
There’s something in her eyes, down in the depths that I can’t grasp, or maybe, I don’t want to. It’s a loaded question. I’m not sure I have anywhere near the answer she seems to be searching for.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I know you belong to me, with me, and you deserve to be shown who and what you are. Starting now.”
I slide my hand around her throat, and I lower my mouth to hers, taking. She opens. A flower. Pure sweet decadent heat and there’s something in there, a dark bite, a slight bitter edge that makes her addictive. She’s the kind of complexity a man could lose himself in. She gives and pulls away and gives again, and it’s so intoxicating my head spins.
The kiss deepens and grows carnal, but I break it. Her uneven breathing music to my ears.
“Kiss me back, Mia, like you mean it.”
“I don’t—”
“Here’s the deal. You lie to me. You hide behind those lies, pull them around you like some kind of cloak. You say stop and no, so I do. But not tonight. Tonight, when you say that, I’m going to keep going. So, if you want me not to, if you want me to stop, we’re going to use another word. Banana.”
She sucks in a breath and her fingers on my shirt coil hard. “Banana?”
“Yes.”
“Are you planning on getting kinky?”
I laugh, sliding my hand down, deliberately over her breast, thumbing her nipple that hides behind the layers of material—thin cotton and what feels like lace. Then, I shift downward again, over her ribs, to her hip, and around to the front of her jeans, where I pop the button and slide down the zipper.
“No. Not tonight. But tonight,” I say, slipping my hand into her panties to toy with her clit, to whisper a finger down along her hot, wet snatch, “tonight I’m going to show you who you belong to. Just remember that word, if you say it, I’ll stop, no questions asked. I’ll stop if I’m fucking you. I’ll stop if I’m going down on you. I’ll stop if I’m about to enter you or come. But only with that word. You got that?”
I’m playing a very dangerous game here, it’s borderline wrong, but I know it’s right.
“Mia?”
“What?”
“You got that, sweetness?”
“Banana.”
And with that, it’s all go.
Until of course, she uses it.
“Take off your fucking clothes, sweetness. Slow. For me.”
I’m slipping my finger back and forth on her wet pussy, keeping the pressure light, moving up to her clit and not quite touching. I do this over and over. And fuck, I don’t know if she realizes, but she’s pushing into my hand with subtle shifts of her hips.
“No.”
“Do it, sweetness.”
I come in, pushing one finger into her as I bite down on her throat and suck her soft, tender flesh.
She moans, spasming.
Fuck, she’s so responsive. And I get the feeling with the helpless little opening and closing of her hand on my chest, that this is new for her. This loss of control, this hyper responsiveness.
Not ego talking. Just naked truth.
Because it goes both ways.
