“Then I’ll fuck someone else, Dorian. Many someone elses. Repeatedly and enthusiastically.”
He smiled. “And how has that been working out for you so far?”
She flushed a deep, betraying red at that, pleasing him so deeply that it took all he had to keep from hauling her up against him. Her eyes got wetter and he knew that if he reached down between her legs, her pussy would be soft and hot and greedy for him.
“Surrender, baby,” he told her quietly. “I’m not letting you go.”
And he didn’t tell her how fully he meant that. He didn’t have to—not when she reacted as if he’d electrocuted her. He could see the fear on her face, and how quickly she covered it up with temper. Dorian had never wanted to wrap a woman in his arms so badly before, for the simple pleasure of holding and soothing her.
Without even paddling her first.
Necessarily.
“If you have such a poor opinion of my character,” she gritted out at him, though her eyes were too big and much too dark, “and this driving need to psychoanalyze things you know nothing about, why would you want me to submit to you in the first place?”
His smile deepened. “Because I want you to be the best version of you. I want you to make choices out of strength, not fear.”
And it shocked him a little as he said it, because he realized this wasn’t new. He’d been uniquely disapproving of Erika Vanderburg for as long as he could remember. But until she’d appeared in his club, he’d never been able to fully imagine her as anything but Conrad’s little sister.
“Not that you’re a wild egomaniac or anything,” she threw at him.
He let his smile cool and his gaze darken, and saw her shiver in response. It was that instinctive response she couldn’t control, no matter how disrespectfully she chose to speak to him.
“You have two choices now,” he told her with quiet menace. “You can leave. I won’t stop you or chase you. I had the concierge find you some more appropriate clothing should you require it, and I’ll have a car take you wherever you wish to go. No harm, no foul.”
Once more, he watched misery move over her face and had to order himself not to help her. It was her struggle. It was his job—and his pleasure—to make it all that much more pointed, sure, but he couldn’t do it for her. No matter how much he might want to.
He’d never experienced this so acutely before. He’d led many a submissive through a scene. But this was her life. And his, if he had his way.Theirs.
“Or?” Her voice was husky with emotion, just one of the many ways her body told him truths she wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. “What if I have a taste for harm and foul?”
Dorian straightened, pushing back from the counter. He stood at his full height, aware of the way her mouth softened. He could see her pulse in her throat, rapid and obvious. Beneath his shirt, her nipples hardened to needy points.
Her body knew whom she belonged to.
“I’m going to leave the room for a moment,” he told her. “When I come back in, you can be dressed in the clothes I left for you on the chair. You can eat. Drink more coffee. I’ll leave you to it.”
Her breath was a scraping thing between them. “Or...?”
“Or you will be sitting on the table, completely naked with your legs spread wide, eyes closed and your hands behind your back.”
He watched her shudder.
“Maybe I have things to say to you,” she said, though her voice was thicker now. As was the scent of her need. “And I’m not sure I want all of my sentences to end insir.”
“Noted.”
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t give her permission or argue the point, he just walked away. He went back out to the great room, where he’d left his bag, pulled out the item he’d found earlier and then took his time coming back.
And he wasn’tsurprisedto find her right where he wanted her. But he was pleased.
Everything in him went still, then hot. His predatory focus kicked in, hard. He wanted to eat her alive.
He intended to do just that.
“Don’t hold your breath,” he told her as he moved closer. “I won’t be happy if you pass out.”
“I’m not going to—”