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"You mean this?" I slide my hands into my pocket and touch the device.
Instantly, her back curves, and she pushes out her breasts, the nipples already beaded and visible through her blouse. Fucking hell, I don’t want to share her, and yet, I’m proud of how much I’m able to affect her. That I can push her arousal to fever pitch by the flick of my fingers. When her breathing finally slows, she lowers her chin. "You’re not playing fair."
"I love to catch you unawares."
She pouts. "I can never predict what you’re going to do next."
"It’s why you love being with me, baby."
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "I shouldn’t allow myself to be this weak with you."
"You can be anything you want with me, Rabbit."
She glances ahead at the two men in the front seat.
I hit the button and privacy screen rises. “There, now they won’t see or hear anything."
"You always get your way, don’t you?” She shakes her head. "Why am I not used to the kind of influence you have over others? I thought I’d tasted fame and the ability to hold power over others, but you take the ability to wield authority to a whole new height."
I allow my lips to curve. "It’s who I am, baby."
She snorts. "Can’t accuse you of being modest."
"I didn’t get to where I am by being modest."
She nods slowly. "You wear power like it was made for you. You hold dominance in every angle of your body, in every pore on your skin, in every glare, every breath, every step you take. Your presence is a weapon made to make others bend to your will."
"Just as long as I have you in my power, I don’t care about anything else."
She looks into my eyes, then chuckles, the sound nervous. "You really mean it."
"Of course I do. Fuck the world. Fuck my career. If I can have you with me, if I can bend you to my will, if I can make you submit to me, if I can satisfy you, and arouse you, and take you to heights you've never been, if I can coax you to trust me, and push you out of your comfort zone, and discover the woman you truly are inside, then I’ll have fulfilled the reason for my existence."
The pulse at the base of her throat picks up speed, and her lips part. "Oh my god. That was so… romantic. I shouldn’t think it to be so. I should be frightened of what it means when you declare your intent with such ferocity, but somehow, I’m not."
"Good." I tug her even closer. "Are you ready for the next stage?"
58
Solene
"Are you going to tell me what the next stage is?" I look across the table at the man seated opposite me. We’re at Declan’s home in Malibu.
The sound of the waves crashing on the shore is a distant yet comforting hum. A gull screeches from somewhere overhead. The infinity pool stretches out, seeming to lead straight to the setting sun that slips slowly down the horizon. The sky is streaked with reds and purples. Intensely sensuous colors to halo an intensely sensuous man. Declan’s wearing a white button down and black pants. His hair is slicked back, his jaw freshly shaven. Which is a pity. Not that I don’t like him this way, but I prefer the whiskers on his chin which chafe my skin when he draws it across the sensitive skin of my pussy.
I squeeze my legs together, and the feel of my thighs against the smoothness of my sheath-dress sends a burst of sensations up my skin. He laid out a thong that was barely there, and the glossy, satiny, white dress—that I'm wearing— on my bed. I saw them as soon as I came out of my shower, and while there was no message from him, it was clear he wanted me to wear them. And now, I understand why. The whisper of the fabric on my skin adds to my arousal, as if his proximity isn’t enough to rouse me to fever pitch. I scowl at him.
As if sensing my perusal, his lips curl. Then he slides his hand inside the front pocket of his shirt. I stiffen and wait for the inevitable vibrations that will send those familiar shivers undulating up my spine. Wait. Wait. He withdraws his hand and places a small hourglass on the table.
"What’s that for?”
“You wanted to know what the next stage is?” His lips curl.
I glance at the hourglass, then up at his too-pleased face. Bet he has another of his BDSM-related surprises up his sleeve. "Stronzo." I glower at him.
His smile widens. "Oh, ye of little faith."
"You don’t get to say that, considering you pulled that little stunt in front of those journalists. What if I’d—"
