“Yeah? Well, you just implied I’m not good in bed!” Muttering to herself, she bent to remove her second shoe, wanting nothing more than to chuck that one at him too. She was completely unprepared for his reaction.
One second she had her hand on her remaining shoe, the next he’d spun her around to face the wall, his body pressing tight against hers from behind. Both her wrists were caught in one of his hands at her lower back. He rolled his hips, rubbing against her bottom, grinding a very hard erection against her miniskirt. Emery put his free hand on her stomach, his large palm making her feel incredibly small.
“You have an unusual way of expressing your temper.” His low growl summoned deep shivers from the base of her spine. “Some doms like to paddle that temper out of their subs, then they pound the sub into delicious submission until the sub is dying of pleasure.” He punctuated this with a sharp arch of his hips again. Her clit throbbed and her breath quickened.
Images rose in her mind—him dragging her skirt up to her waist, tearing away underwear and taking her hard from behind. Sophie jerked when her knees smacked together and she wobbled. Emery held her upright, rubbing her stomach, the pressure arousing rather than soothing.
“Don’t tell me I’ve struck you speechless.” His husky laugh was rich as scotch and burned her to the core.
He nuzzled her ear, then nipped at it. An explosion went off somewhere below her waist and Sophie sucked in a breath. Her blood pounded in her ears, and a dark mist seemed to roll across her vision as she sank into him and his teasing kisses and touches.
“I’m having trouble…thinking,” she admitted through the fog that seemed to curl around the logical part of her mind. All she could focus on was his breath on her cheek, his tongue flicking inside her ear and the stinging jabs of arousal that spiked though her lower spine and zoomed straight to her clit. She was empty, needed something inside her, needed him. Her body actually hurt with the wild craving to have him. All it would take was his thrusting into her softness and giving it to her hard enough, and she’d die from the pleasure.
“You respond well to me. Perhaps you are worth a few nights.” He licked a path up from her shoulder to a spot beneath her ear, and then feathered kisses before blowing softly on the now sensitive shell of her ear. Her hands shook violently in his hold.
Then he was gone. He’d released her and stepped back. Sophie fell forward a few inches, her body resting against the wall as she fought to regain her composure. The stone against her cheek was cool and slightly rough, like the craggy rocks of a castle’s keep. It lent a dungeonlike atmosphere to their sparse surroundings, more than chains and whips and other objects might have. She was at his mercy, his to torture or to pleasure, or perhaps a combination. Her clit pulsed to life at the thought of both.
“Very well. Unlace your corset.”
The command was so abrupt that Sophie balked instantly. There was no way she’d do that, and it didn’t have anything to do with modesty.
“You can’t obey a simple command?” One golden brow arched over his eye.
“It’s not that I don’t want to obey…”
“Are you plagued by modesty?” His lips tilted down, but a glimmer of amusement danced briefly across his face.
“I’m not plagued, I’m naturally modest. But that’s not why I can’t unlace the corset.”
Emery sighed and crossed his arms. “I suppose I’ll give you one easy out today. Tell me why you won’t open your corset and I will release you of the command to actually unlace it. Can you do that without issue?”
“Just tell you?” She could do that, couldn’t she?
“For now. Someday you will show me.” He raised one hand to his hair, raking his fingers through it, mussing the blond waves. It made her ache to do the same. To lie beside him in bed and know that she mussed up his hair, that she had grasped the thick shimmering strands and tugged while in the midst of passion.
“I don’t like delays, Sophie,” he warned.
Swallowing a shivery breath, she nodded, more for herself than him. “I’ve got scars.” There. It was out. No going back.
“What kind of scars?” Emery’s voice was soft, velvety, like he wanted to soothe her.
His question confused her.
“Scars. There isn’t any other kind.”
Emery’s eyes trained on her. “I mean, are they scars from abuse? From an accident?”
“No abuse. Surgery.”
“What did you have surgery for?”
“Explaining that isn’t part of the bargain,” Sophie replied. She’d agreed to submit, not tell him her every secret.
Emery stood up and left the bench to come toward her. He moved so fast she had no time to react. He snatched her wrists and dragged her over to the bench, bending her over it and spreading her knees with one thigh. He pulled her wrists back behind her body and pinned them there with one of his hands. When he pushed his leg up against the apex of her thighs beneath the skirt she whimpered. The soft, expensive fabric of his suit rubbed erotically against the sensitive skin of her thighs.
“Lesson one: never lie to your dom, or any dom. Punishment is always the result, or worse, the dom severs the relationship and releases the sub. Now, let’s try this again. What was the surgery for?”
“All right!” Sophie hissed. She was madder than a wet cat, but she knew he had her beat. Still, she jerked and jostled against the bench, testing his hold. Tight. No way to get out of this.
“Stop.” His bark made her flinch and go slack. “Tell the truth. I have ways of making you talk if you think to keep quiet.”
Did he mean he’d spank it out of her?
