Page 41 of Resurgent
“Mine to pleasure…” His warm hand caresses my breast, his calloused thumb brushing over the hard nipple. Pulling me to him roughly, his hand travels across my rib cage and down my back to squeeze my ass. “And punish.”
Punish? I gulp, thinking of my list in tatters on the floor. What have I gotten myself into?
His voice is raspy near my ear. “And just for future reference, tell me not to do something and I’ll do it twice and take pictures.”
“Pictures?!”
He laughs at the panic in my voice. “Not tonight and never without your permission. But seeing you like this makes me want to. If you could see how beautiful you look—bound and at my mercy, your breasts pushed forward, aching for my touch…” His voice trails off, but the way he’s looking at me has electricity racing erratically through my veins. He’s right. I want nothing more than to feel his hands caressing my skin, his hands cupping my breasts, the rough pad of his thumbs brushing over my erect nipples, his finger pressed against my needy clit.
My breasts feel tight and heavy as I wait—okay, I admit it, eagerly—for his touch, my breasts literally aching for the feel of his hands cupping their heavy weight, flicking the nipples with his calloused hands. But he doesn’t do anything. Time slows, and I can feel each pinprick tingle as my nipples pucker in the cold air. There is nothing to focus on but my breath and his. My vulnerability and his power. My submission and his control.
Just when I think I’m going to die of anticipation, he leans forward and kisses me, his lips stamping mine with theseal of his dominance, and my fate is settled. I’m his. I kiss him back, hungry for the way his tongue plunges ruthlessly into my open and willing mouth. After a moment, he steps back and gazes at me appraisingly, as if gauging his next move. Then, slowly and methodically, he rolls up his shirt sleeves, and I’m a goner. A man with rolled-up sleeves has always been a turn on. Maybe it’s how strong their forearms look, or the fact that it signifies they’re about to get down to business. My stomach drops as I remember our earlier conversation. Tonight, Liam’s business is taming me. Or trying to.
His knife clatters to the table as he fists his hand in my hair and turns me around, bending me forward at the waist so that my entire upper torso is pressed against the surface of the small kitchen table. The laminate is cold and smooth against my bare chest, and my nipples tighten even more. His hand, firm and unyielding, grips the back of my neck, holding me immobile. I squirm a little, just to see if I can move. I can’t.
“I’ll make a good girl out of you yet.”
“I doubt that,” I say, my voice strangled.
The smack of his hand on my bottom catches me off guard and I jolt, slamming my legs back together.
“Hmm. Is that a challenge?” His voice is low with an edge of threat to it, but it doesn’t faze me at all. I know that tone. It means fasten your seatbelt, but I’m ready for the ride.
I actually hadn’t meant it as a challenge—I’m honestly pretty doubtful I can really let go and give him what he wants—but since he brought it up, I decide to have a little fun with it. A little fun with him. He deserves it after making us all think he was dead. And he’s fun to tease. “You only asked for my body,” I say impishly. “It remains to be seen whether you can actually tame me or not.”
“Is that right?” I can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull, sweetheart,” he says. “Open your legs for me.”
When I don’t comply, he kicks them apart roughly, and my pelvis tightens with arousal, knowing I’m at his mercy, spread before him. It might be humiliating if he wasn’t humming his approval and stroking my skin with a combination of possessiveness coupled with an almost tender reverence that has me sighing with pleasure.
He holds them apart with his own feet placed inside of mine, lifts my hair, and presses a kiss against the nape of my neck, sending a shudder of pleasure through me. He trails his finger down my spine, over the dip at the small of my back which is slightly arched from being bent over a table, and ever-so-gently parts the cheeks of my butt. Mortified, I try to squirm away, but his grip is unyielding.
“I’m not comfortable with that,” I say firmly with as much authority as I can summon given Liam is physically holding me facedown naked on a table. And, until he got too close to the restricted zone, I’ve been enjoying it.
“You’re not supposed to be comfortable. Comfortable never changed anything or made you stronger or braver or gave you that on-top-of-the-world feeling. I’m going to push you, sweetheart, until you let go of that control you hold on to so tightly. Justlike out in the ocean today. Whenever you try to plant your feet in the sand, I’m going to knock them out from under you so you experience the freedom and joy of riding the waves.”
I let out a sigh of relief as he moves away from my ass. Regardless of his words, I know he won’t push me to do anything I don’t want to do. He respects me, and I trust him. But then he doesn’t touch me at all, and I find myself thinking maybe that would be better than this anticipation…the not knowing what he’s going to do next. There is no sound but the cry of a monkey from the jungle beyond. I focus on my breathing, trying to stay calm, but I can feel the trickle of moisture drip from my sex. I realize what he’s doing is intentional. He’s going slow like I said I wanted him to, but not to make me comfortable. He’s been perfectly clear he wants me uncomfortable and off balance. No. He’s doing it to make me nervous. To make me anticipate. To turn me on. To make me focus of every minute and savor each one fully.
It’s working.
He spanks me again, harder this time, but the initial sting quickly morphs into a pleasurable warmth. Holding me still, his fingers part my lips and he slides a finger into my wet heat. I moan as I clench around it, wishing it was his thick cock instead.
“Untamable, huh?” he murmurs, his breath hot in my ear. “One smack of my hand on your ass and you’re already wet. You get off on being dominated.”
Oh God. He’s totally right. “I do not!”
“No?”Smack.He spanks me again.
“No.”
Smack.“Go on. Admit I’m right. You like giving up control.”
“I think you missed a spot. To the right and on the bottom.”
He laughs and tweaks my nipple, moving back and forth until I’m squirming.
“Be still, woman.”Smack.“Ican do this all night.”
I wriggle my ass sassily. “So can I.”
