I open my mouth, but no words come out. What can I say? He’s absolutely right. If I had any control where Braden is concerned, I wouldn’t need to turn off my phone. And now he’s got me right where he wants me.
I can’t help a sarcastic laugh. “Funny. Okay, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say I did manipulate you, or at least attempted to. What do you think you do to me every day? This almost sadistic need you have for control? I gave it to you. I gave it to you in the bedroom. But that isn’t enough for you. You want it over every aspect of my life. If that’s not manipulation, tell me what is.”
He stands now, his bulge still apparent. He’s turned on, and frankly, so am I. His very presence turns me on, his controlling nature turns me on, and the sight of his cock hard for me really turns me on.
“Manipulation, Skye, is skillfully controlling someone or something.”
“I can’t argue with your definition,” I say. “And only one of us is a master of control here.”
He laughs. Really laughs. “If I were the master of control you seem to think I am, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“But you are, Braden. Why do you think I didn’t find a charger?”
“I know exactly why,” he says, grabbing my hair and forcing my head back. “Don’t attempt to manipulate me again, Skye. You won’t like the result.”
His lips come down on mine.
Chapter Eighteen
I keep my lips glued together.
Why not? Braden will force them open, probe his tongue at the seam, and eventually I will succumb. I know this, and so does he.
Except he doesn’t probe. He simply slides his lips over mine, and he doesn’t attempt to coax them open.
Now who’s manipulating whom?
I chuckle inside my mind at the inevitable answer to my own question.
By keeping my lips glued shut, I’m manipulating him. Because I want this kiss as much as he does. And I know he knows that.
My action is no different from denying myself an orgasm against his kitchen island or turning off my phone so I won’t see his texts.
I’m manipulating him into thinking he doesn’t control me.
Why not accept the kiss? Why not let it lead to the inevitable lovemaking we both desire?
We’re here in my apartment. I don’t have any leather bindings or floggers or butt plugs. Only vanilla sex here. Yet I’m resisting it.
You are a challenge, Skye.
I can almost hear the words coming from Braden, even though his lips are still pressed to mine, giving me short, sweet pecks that are setting my loins on fire.
He trails tiny kisses across my jawline into my ear. He nips at the lobe. “Stop it,” he whispers harshly. “Stop denying yourself.”
His words ring so very true. Just as I denied myself that orgasm, just as I denied myself an evening with Braden tonight, I’m now denying myself this kiss and where it may lead. Is my control worth giving up pleasures?
“Fuck it,” I say out loud. I cup both his stubbled cheeks and lead his lips back to mine.
This time I open, and I take the lead. I slide my lips over his, swirl my tongue around his, savor the delicious taste of him.
Why deny myself?
No longer, at least for tonight. If I weren’t so obsessed with my own control, we’d have already made love several times tonight, and I could’ve saved myself two agonizing hours at a club.
He breaks the kiss with a loud pop of suction and burns his gaze into mine. “I ought to smack your ass until it’s cherry red.”
Oh, hell no. Except… Oh, hell yes. Ambivalence whirls through me. I enjoyed that spanking he gave me. I didn’t think I would, but God, I did. I long to experience the sensation again—his palm coming down on my ass, the pleasure-pain erupting in my body.
“Make no mistake, Skye,” he continues, his voice a husky timbre. “Pull a stunt like this again, and I’ll leave your ass raw. You’ll be wishing I only denied you an orgasm.”
The thought both frightens and inebriates me. How far am I willing to go toward Braden’s darker side?
What did he do to Addie that left her shaken? What did she refuse to do that led to their breakup?
I swiftly erase those thoughts from my mind. I’m ripe and wet and my entire body’s an inferno. I want Braden. I’m ready for whatever he gives me.
“Get undressed,” he commands. “Then wait for me on the bed with your legs spread.”
I don’t even consider disobeying. My blouse, jeans, and wedge sandals are off nearly instantly. Then my panties and bra. My breasts are already flushed a rosy pink, and my nipples are hard and tight. I walk to the bed, lie down, and spread my legs wide open.