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“I thought you were in charge?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I want you to do be in charge.” The minute she said it, she knew it was true. Knew that what she wanted was a man who would direct things. Push her. Show her what she’d been missing.
She’d been the leader in her past relationship. And while in some ways that suited her, always taking the lead in the bedroom, while simultaneously having to ensure she didn’t ask him for anything he “didn’t like” was taxing and vanilla and boring.
And she didn’t want that. Not tonight.
“And I retract the pain statement from earlier,” she added.
He froze, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to give a stranger that kind of power?”
It was wrong that it got her hot. But it did. “Yes. I don’t think you want to hurt me, not really. And I don’t want you tohurtme, hurt me. But…sex tip number twelve.”
“Care to let me in on that?”
She extricated herself from his arms and pulled her phone out of her purse and pulled up the document, scrolling down to the aforementioned tip. He read it. “Hair pulling, eh?”
“Yes.”
He reached behind her head, wrapping his fingers around her hair, pulling it all into his grasp before winding it around the back of his hand and forcing her to tilt her head back. The position left her vulnerable, her throat exposed to him, a little tingle of pain prickling over her scalp.
“Like this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, her voice a whisper.
“I wouldn’t have thought you were that kind of girl,” he said, leaning in, pressing his lips to the tender skin of her neck.
“Me neither. We surprise ourselves. Oh!” He bit her again, tugging a little harder on her hair as he did.
“Good?”
“Yes. But I think I need you to touch me. I’m…I’m…” She was about to come and he’d never even touched her breasts.
He kissed her again, this time tender. Soft. A line of sweet kisses that stood at odds with the firm grip he had on her hair. The contrast was intense. Intoxicating.
She thought she might melt into a puddle. Just before her knees gave out, he pushed her back against the wall. It was hard behind her, his body hot in front of her, his chest pressed against hers.
He released her hair, slid his hands down her arms and lifted them over her head, his grip strong on her, holding her in place. Captive.
“You want me to touch you?” he asked.
He kept her prisoner with one large hand, lowering the other and drawing his finger over her lips, tracing the outline of them.
“Yes,” she said, desperate now. There was nothing teasing or humorous on his face now. All the light and fun was gone, burned away by a deep intensity that echoed inside her.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’m going to make you wait.”
She arched her back, bringing her aching breasts more firmly against his chest, looking for some relief from the pounding need that was roaring through her blood. She didn’t know if she could survive this. And all he’d done was kiss her.
All he was doing was holding her now, his hand tight on her like an iron cuff, his eyes intent on hers.
That was all. And yet she felt like she was on the edge of orgasm. Desperate. Shaking. The nerves were gone now. Replaced by desire and curiosity.
“You put me in charge,” he said, “and that might be a decision you regret.”
The rough edge of his voice whispered over her skin, leaving goosebumps behind. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“So trusting, baby,” he said, cupping her chin, holding her.
