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Cillian’s brow arches, and I tremble at the sadistic way the corners of his lips curl before he continues his slow, methodical walk around me.
“Iwillhurt you, though.”
My thighs clench traitorously.
“Iwillcontrol you.”
My nipples harden.
Fuck you, subconscious.
“And, should I decide to…”
I shiver as I feel him come to a stop behind me. And when his lips brush near my ear, I bite down on my lip hard to stop from gasping.
“I will chase you, and pin you down, andsavage you.”
There’s a chance I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew.
Oh, you fucking THINK?
Cillian continues to prowl around me, finishing his drink and setting the empty glass on the mantel. He shrugs his jacket off, methodically folding it and draping it over an arm of one of the sofas. He plucks my empty glass from my fingers and sets it next to his before he continues his slow walk around me.
“Strip.”
I tense, my pulse thudding as every nerve in my body screams that I should run. I can feel the heavy clasp pinning my hair up in a knot—a golden, ornate thing that Apostle gave to me for tonight.
Very pretty, very expensive-looking….and very lethal, given that concealed within it is a razor-sharp five-inch blade that flicks out butterfly-knife style with a simple twist of the wrist.
For a second, I imagine myself exploding into action—reaching up, grabbing the clasp from my hair, and whirling to plunge it into his heart.
Not yet. Not now.
Patience. Have pat—
My entire body jolts, my eyes bugging out of their sockets and my mouth falling open in shock as a powerful hand wraps around my throat from behind, squeezing. Cillian growls, pressing hard against my back and making my legs shake. I feel his breath and smell the heady scent of him—a mix of leather, whiskey, and tobacco—swirling through my senses.
“I will not fucking ask again.”
Heat explodes through my core—raw, sensual, illicit. But it’s not from fear. It’s worse. It’s fromexcitement. It’s the combination of his grip on my throat, the harsh, demanding tone in my ear, and the pure power of him swirling around me like black magic.
It’s the beginning of countless of my filthy fantasies. But now isreallynot the time nor the place to play them out, however ironic that may be.
Shivering, I bring a hand up to the nape of my neck. My fingers unclip the clasp on the delicate gold chain there, and suddenly the entire flimsy dress tumbles away from me. The silky material slips from my nipples, slides off my hips, and pools on the floor around my ankles.
I stand there, doing everything I can to keep my hands at my sides—to keep my posture casual and calm, like I’ve done this hundreds of times instead ofnever—and to refrain from wrapping my arms around myself to hide my nakedness.
“I’m sorry, did you misunderstand the fucking order?”
I flush deeply, shaking my head.
“No, Sir.”
My entire face turns red as my fingers slip into the waistband of my black thong. Burning hotly, I bend at the knees, my ears ringing as I slip the panties down my legs, then kick them off.
And then, except for my shoes, I’m completely naked.
Withhim.
