Джоанна Рок – Scandalous Mistress: Double Take / Captivate Me / My Double Life (страница 22)

But nothing did. Nothing.

She simply did as he commanded. She dropped the book and melted into him, twining her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his hair, holding him tight. She thrust her tongue against his, sucking, biting, begging. The kiss was as good as last week’s, only ten times hotter, more frenzied. Maybe that was because they knew that this time he wasn’t going to walk out the door with a raging hard-on, and she wasn’t going to go to bed and have a wet dream about what they might have done.

This time, they would do it all.

Their bodies molded together, her softness welcoming all his wonderfully hard places. She dug her nails into his shoulder, feeling the play of muscle beneath her fingers and delighting in his raw strength. Every inch of him was masculine, the perfect counterpoint to her feminine, and she reveled in it.

“Admit how much you want this,” he groaned against her mouth.

He didn’t let her respond, didn’t wait for her to answer, as if wanting her to admit it only to herself. Instead he thrust his tongue deep, in and out, making love to her mouth. Each stroke was accompanied by a thrust of his hips that put her in hard contact with the enormous ridge of heat tenting the front of his trousers.

She wanted that heat. Desperately. Mindlessly.

She wanted to rip his pants open and drop to her knees and put her lips and tongue on him like the illustration in that book. She longed to taste him until he came in her mouth, leaving him bone-dry and weak. And after she swallowed down some of that power, taking it for herself, maybe then she could be sure he was just as vulnerable, just as helpless to his body’s demands as she was right now.

But did she really care about evening scores or jockeying for power? No. Right now she just wanted to suck his cock.

Lindsey quivered, realizing she was crossing over some boundary here. She was out of her mind with want.

She was out of control.

Whatever he wanted from her, he could have, if only he’d stop this almost-painful need, slake her dreadful thirst. And he was aware of just how much he could take; he hadn’t waited for an answer because it had been a mere formality.

He knew what she wanted. What she needed. And he would give it to her.

He yanked at the tie of her robe and pushed it open. He put his strong hands around her midriff, sliding them up to cup her breasts. His thumbs flicked up to trace her hard nipples, pressing against the pale blue satin of her nightie, and her legs almost buckled.

“Oh, yes, touch me. More, Mike,” she ordered.

His hands immediately dropped, moving away, tormenting her.

Because she’d ordered?

His kiss became harder, insistent, demanding that she give herself over to him.

Stop trying to control. Stop making demands.

Trust him. Let him. And let yourself.

She hesitated, part of her rebelling. The urge to try to gain the edge, to turn the tables, whispered inside her. But somehow she knew if she did, she’d be the one who suffered. Maybe they’d still have great sex tonight, but tomorrow, she would be able to convince herself he was just like everyone else she’d ever slept with. A man who didn’t mind doing what she told him to, as long as he got his rocks off.

Mike’s not that man.

He could never be.

And if she pushed him to be that man, she might not have great sex with him tonight—or ever. Because he’d just turn around and walk out the door.

She couldn’t bear that. No matter what it cost her or how it might hurt, she couldn’t let him go without submitting to at least one remarkable night with him.

All she had to do was let him into every part of her, not just her body. All she had to do was surrender.

Just surrender.

He softened the kiss, cajoling her, seducing her. He continued to touch her with long, teasing strokes that were never quite enough.

Surrender.

Finally, she did. She trusted him.

“Anything you want, Mike,” she whispered into his mouth, whimpering, dying. “Any way you want it.”

He pulled away, looking down at her, masculine satisfaction written all over his face. His eyes glittered, the pupils dark with want, and a confident smile tugged at that incredible mouth. “Are you absolutely sure? Because I won’t stand for barriers. I’ll plow right through them.”

Swallowing, she nodded, both scared and incredibly turned on by his self-assurance. He wasn’t threatening her, he was promising her. She only had to let down her defenses and he’d push through until she felt so good she wouldn’t remember her own name, much less her silly objections.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

He stroked her slowly, sliding his hands back up to cup her breasts again. But he focused only on her face, watching her intently, as if to ensure she really was ready to let him lead the way.

Lindsey gasped when he pushed the robe off her shoulders, pulled the spaghetti straps of her nightgown down and peeled the silky fabric from her chest. She hissed when his thumbs scraped over her taut nipples, sensation rocketing through her. She moaned when he finally kissed his way down her throat and licked the top curves of her breasts.

And when he finally covered one puckered nipple with his mouth and sucked, hard, she gave a little groan.

Heat burst through her; she truly was on fire, mindless, desperate to know what he’d do next but not asking, not interfering. Just taking.

He sucked her, tweaked her, exploring her breasts with his hands and his mouth until she was sagging into the arm of the chair. Then he kissed his way back up to her mouth and pulled her to her feet. But he didn’t keep her there.

Not letting the kiss end, he picked her up by the hips, holding her bottom in his big, strong hands. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, almost crying at the sensation of cupping that long, hard ridge of flesh between her thighs. She ground against it, desperate for the pressure, the strength, and whimpered as her sex swelled and moistened, pulsing with electric fire.

“God, yes,” she groaned. “Please, I need to...”

“No,” he ordered, lifting her higher so her sex was pressed against his waist, removed from that connection she craved. “You don’t take it—I give it to you.”

“But...”

“I said no,” he growled. “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

She sucked in a shocked breath, staring into his face. He didn’t smile, didn’t wink, didn’t tell her he was joking. He merely held her stare, laying down his conditions.

Mike didn’t want merely her surrender. He wanted her total and complete submission.

The modern woman within her screamed in frustration.

The sexual being within her purred in anticipation.

Being free to do nothing but feel. No thoughts, no plans, no reactions...just sensation. Pleasure. The very concept scared her. It thrilled her. It overwhelmed her. It intoxicated her. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe; she could only give in to her true desire. And her true desire was something that would have stunned her just ten days ago.

“All right, Mike. For tonight, at least, you’ll be in charge. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

7

THERE HADN’T BEEN much doubt in Mike’s mind of exactly what Lindsey wanted and needed, even if she didn’t know it herself. But until she actually agreed, he’d held his breath.

The moment the words left her lips, he released that breath with a self-satisfied groan. “You won’t regret it,” he promised her, intending to keep that promise no matter what it took.

Not giving her any more time to reconsider, he headed for her room. Kicking the door open so he could carry her through it, he crossed to the bed, tossing her down upon it.

Lindsey landed amongst a pile of pillows, half reclining. She was now covered only by a skimpy pair of panties and a tiny, wispy light blue nightgown that was pulled down low on her breasts, not even covering one well-sucked nipple. The fabric floated up over her hips when she landed, so now it covered only her middle.

He didn’t follow her down, instead he stood by the bed, looking down at her. She reached toward one of her spaghetti straps—to pull it back up or push it all the way off? Didn’t matter. He hadn’t said she could.

“Ah-ahh,” he tsked. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

Her hand froze; she eyed him with uncertainty. A beat. Then she lowered her hand onto the bed. Obeying.

Though he knew she was still unsure about this, her eyes glowed and her face was flushed with hunger. Her kiss-reddened lips trembled. Those beautiful nipples he’d suckled were hard and moist, and he’d lay money she wanted to lift her own hand to tweak them, just so she could have a moment’s satisfaction.

She didn’t move, however. She merely watched. Waited.

“Good girl.”

“I’m not calling you master,” she said with a tiny, playful smile, though her words sounded unsure—forced.

“You will if I tell you to,” he said, his voice low, silky, brooking no disobedience. He reached down and pushed her hair away from her face, brushing his thumb over her lips. “Won’t you, Lindsey?”

She blinked, her cheeks reddening, from anger? From excitement? Was a war going on behind her green eyes? He couldn’t be sure, not until her tongue flicked at his thumb, as if she simply had to taste him. And then she slowly nodded.