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He jerked his shirt off his shoulders one at a time to throw it aside while she worked on his pants. The moment they were loose, he grabbed her jaw to haul her attention up.
“You are a subordinate, you exist beneath me, under me,” he growled. “Don’t think. Don’t make decisions. Your life is mine. You are mine. McDade property on my terms. My limits. You obey. Yield. Surrender. You don’t resist. You don’t get in my way. Your job is to support me. Say it.”
He loosened his grip just enough to let her speak. “My job is to support you.”
His ace? The video. The tool trapping her in his bed. Or was it? The recording didn’t explain why her hand slipped into his pants of its own freewill. Already full, his cock wanted to play, even if the ferocity burning from his gaze said otherwise.
Balling his fist in her hair, he bowed to get in her face. “Suck it,” he said, releasing her jaw, forcing her head down.
That was it. The order she’d anticipated. As a sharp spasm of excitement burst through her pussy, her hungry mouth sought his dick.
She hadn’t meant to disobey or embarrass him. His approval meant something. He’d been out there, in part, defending her, and she’d ruined his plan in the most intrusive way.
Shit, she wanted to please him. Wanted to apologize with the physical he understood. Except he didn’t fit in her throat, simple as that. She tried and failed. Tried and failed. Sucking and licking, working her hand up and down his shaft, she tried desperately to satisfy him. Peeking up, the elevated angle of his chin hid his expression. Did he want her? Enjoy her efforts? His pelvis moved, pushing himself deeper as his constricted hand forced her closer.
On his first real thrust, she gagged. He didn’t slow or stop; it was on her to breathe. To learn him, to find the rhythm. The sting of his tightened fingers in her hair shot all the way to her temples. Fuck, it felt good. He felt good. The speed, how his first hand joined the second and his pace picked up.
On a curse, he pulled her away, freeing her mouth to flip her onto her back. He dropped to his knees and, with one tug, brought her head off the edge of the bed. She’d never performed for a guy that way before, upside down. He ran the head of his dick across her lips, coating her in the need seeping from him.
“Open,” he snarled, grabbing her breast when her jaw loosened.
Feeding her his cock, he pushed, hard, fast, right into her throat. It was panic, no breath, pain, then… that fullness slipped away and she immediately wanted it back. He granted her wish and drove into her, his thrusts quick but deep. Every time he pushed in to the hilt, his balls squashed against her, blocking her nose. Breathing needed to match the tempo, which she only just got a moment before he fired into her, shooting his desire so deep, she almost choked when he withdrew.
Her labored breathing slowed but stayed intense. He’d just… they’d just…
What the fuck was that?
“Good girl,” he murmured as he rose to go into the bathroom.
Her pussy tingled, and she lay there, looking into the bedroom, upside down, focused on nothing.
Running her hands across her breasts, she closed her eyes, considering whether she should touch herself or hope he’d come back to finish the job.
“Up.” When she opened her eyes and raised her head, he was standing by the side of the bed. “Up.”
“We’re done?” she asked, struggling to sit.
“Go wash up.”
At something of a loss, she went to get ready for bed, brushing her teeth and washing her face.
In the closet, she checked through the clothes Dasha bought. “Dasha didn’t bring me anything to sleep in,” she said, peeking into the bedroom. “Can I borrow a shirt?”
He was already lying down, the sheet draped across his hips. “No. You sleep naked in my bed.”
Okay, or that was an option. Was Dasha under specific instructions to accommodate that wish?
Switching off the closet light, she went to the bed, skimming a leg across him to straddle his hips. “Still pissed?” she asked, opening her hands on his stomach.
“Cops will have him all weekend,” he said, his fingers locked behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I won’t get near him until next week.”
That was a yes. Still pissed.
“Do you understand why I told Lachlan?”
“No, I don’t,” he said. “You have a problem? You bring it to me. That’s my job. To fix it.”
“I don’t have your number,” she said, stroking him. “Which reminds me…”
