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Still unspeaking, I walk up behind her, closing and locking the door, though there is no need apart from seeing her flinch at its snicking sound when I flick the thing too hard, and reach around to work the buttons on her blouse.
Like the submissive wife who knows she’s royally fucked up, she lets me. Her body tremors against mine, her soft, shallow breaths the only sound to break the pervasive silence in our room. Every button allows me to glide my fingertips over her skin in the sweetest touch, igniting nerve endings beneath. Any other night I’d have her lay her head to my shoulder and kiss us both senseless before I fucked her into the mattress, but tonight needs to be different.
It must be, to set a new standard. That if I fucking well beg her to come back to me, she does. I never experienced greater fear in my life than these last nights, wondering if I’d find her body on the docks, shot up like one of her henchmen. It’s only by the grace of a God who long closed His door to me that I picked up the body of my enemy instead of hers.
Still only using my fingertips, I graze the material from her body, then her bra and skirt, leaving her in only her panties and heels. Catching her hands, I hook her fingers through the fine lacy strands she modeled for me weeks ago, when I fucked her on the floor of the boutique I took her to, knowing she needed her independence then.
What’s happened is my fault for not giving her more when I had the chance. For not listening when she spoke.
That night had been passionate, and loving, and all-encompassing. Tonight will be nothing like it.
She takes the hint, peeling the thong down her legs and stepping out of the damp lace that’s already coated in her arousal. Then she straightens, and doesn’t move.
Good girl.
I brush my knuckles tenderly over her cheek, and she arches back into me, confusion tensing her features when I press my knuckles hard to the back of her neck in line with her spine.
I walk her to the wall that way, telling her without words who is in control. That was stripped from me, and I have never hated anything more than not knowing. Not being able to be there. Not being in control of my own fate.
And so she will wear my wrath tonight.
Her hands flex when they hit the wall, but I curl my fingers around her throat loosely, tugging so she pivots on her heels in the thick, plush carpet. When her back faces the wall I step into her, herding her into its cold, smooth surface. Her lips part on the lightest gasp, then part wider.
Instead of letting her speak, I place my mouth gently over hers, kissing her lightly, gently. Tender and sweet and all the things she knows I am not. When I draw back, my message has made its way through to her, but she stares up at me in confusion, the slightest flicker of fear at her own not knowing reflecting in her stunning jade eyes.
Fucking perfect.
I let my gaze wander her body, tracking through all the things we’ve done together. From taking her virginity at my club, to shooting Konnor, fucking in this room when I saw what her family did to her … sharing her with my best friend.
Tonight will be another first.
I drop to my knees, motioning her to part her legs slightly. She stares down at me, her chest barely moving as I lean in to glide my tongue along her beautifully soft, waxed flesh. Already engorged with need from my teasing, from the sense of wrongness about tonight while I touch her gently, her pussy gushes fresh, a hesitant sound eliciting above me.
I tap her stomach firmly and Willow closes her mouth, breathing audibly through her nose. Nodding my pleasure at her surrender, I lick the exposed lips of her pussy, all around the tops of her thighs and inside, drawing my tongue around the edge of her entrance but no more. Not pushing my tongue inside to feel her clench, not laving over her clit.
Nothing to make sure she orgasms for me.
Not yet.
Willow’s breaths come shorter and harder as I lick leisurely and gently until her thighs tremble. When I think she might come undone at the slightest touch, I pull back, blowing cool air at her tortured skin from a distance with nowhere near the level of pressure she needs.
I stare up at her from my knees, daring her to challenge me from the position I maintain, showing her who holds the power between us, for now. She nods, her nails scraping the wall to keep herself standing.
Smiling, I rise, taking one elbow in the lightest touch and guide her to a chair overlooking the bay from a broad floor-to-ceiling glass panel. I don’t really care if anyone sees us, tonight is only for her and me.
Bending her at the waist I guide her forward over the back of the chair until she’s on her toes in the heels, her tits swaying but not pressed to the chair. I lay her hands out in front of her, hanging over the edge of the seat, and brush her hair over her shoulder so her back is exposed to me, her body a list of all the scars and sins and promises we’ve made and broken to each other.
She doesn’t move, except when I tap her feet out, spreading her legs so she feels the exposure, the powerlessness of her position. Breath pants from her slim frame, but she doesn’t fight me. I thank her silently with a kiss to her shoulder.
Unbuttoning my shirt, I walk behind her where she can’t see me, looking out at the bay, then down at her. I undo my belt, not cracking the leather but removing it from the loops on my pants, the leather slithering against the material. She tenses, but Willow has been tortured in the past and I enjoy spanking her too much to make this her punishment.
Walking forward, I loop the ends around her wrists, pulling them together but not too tight. Her brow crinkles as she watches me fold the other end where I might have otherwise kept it for a leash, and hold it in front of her face. When she doesn’t react I tap her lips, but she shakes her head against the gag, continuing our silent conversation.
Nodding, I slide two fingers along her spine, all the way to her tailbone and tap there too. Willow freezes for a fraction of a second, then, with eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips part.
I press the leather between them, careful not to hurt her mouth that closes neatly over the leather. My cock swells at the thought of her imprint I’ll wear daily as a reminder of her submission. One tear breaks free, and I lean forward, licking its path gently, then the other side as her first full tears fall.
I’ve barely touched her, and I already know she’s mine again.
