The question is a soft demand I can’t really answer. “It just came to me. I think . . . I know he made me call him that.”
“Made you? I’ve played around in that world, Ella, and you don’t make someone call you Master. It’s a choice. The submissive is ultimately in control, and I have no interest in your being my submissive. Because I like control during sex doesn’t make me your Master. You call me Kayden, or asshole; I don’t care. I care about your pleasure and your safety.” His tone is vehement, anger barely contained in its depths, and I can feel the thunder of his heart beneath my palm where my hand has settled. “Tell me you understand.”
“Yes. And it matters to me in ways I’m not sure I even understand yet. I don’t want to say no to you, Kayden.”
“But you can. Even after you say yes.” He cups my face and repeats those words. “Even after you say yes.”
“I know.”
“Now your promise.”
“I promise.”
He kisses me, a deep caress of his tongue against mine that entices, seduces, but I taste the gentleness in him, the worry, that places him, and us, so far from his version of “dirty” I am not sure we can find it again. “Don’t you dare coddle me,” I demand, shoving against his chest and grabbing the silk sash he’s allowed to fall to the floor. “Tie me up.”
“Not tonight.”
“Yes, damn it. Tonight. You promised me a new memory, and I want it. Don’t take that from me.”
“Ella—”
“I need to face my fears. I need to know he doesn’t win.”
His expression tightens, his eyes probing mine, searching. I hold out my wrists. “Trust,” I say. “I’m giving it to you. Take it.”
“I want far more trust than I’m sure you should give me.”
“What does that mean?”
His chest expands, thick lashes lowering, forming dark circles on his cheeks, my eyes lingering there a moment, and I think . . . I think the past he’s talked about being a part of us has found its place in this moment, and for him that is guilt, and mistrust of himself.
“I trust you,” I whisper, holding out my hands.
He doesn’t look at me but he shackles my wrists, easily holding them with one hand while he twines the silk around them with the other. And when his gaze finally collides with mine, the man I want and need is back within reach, darker flecks of blue heating the pale blue of his stare. “It’s loose enough that you can slide out of it if you absolutely want to. Next time it won’t be.”
The way he says ‘next time it won’t be’ sends an erotic thrill down my spine. I don’t know why or how it is possible, but being at Kayden Wilkens’s mercy is sexy and exciting, not terrifying. Not about fear and degradation. “Understand?” he asks, and it’s more than a question. It’s a clear opportunity for me to use the word no he has stressed is mine to own and control.
“Yes,” I say, choosing the word to send a message. I’m making my choice, and trusting him is that choice.
“Be clear, Ella. I’m going to push tonight. Not the way I’m capable of pushing you, but you won’t argue with me on that.” He tightens his grip around my hands. “You will not win that war. Now you say ‘yes.’ ”
“Yes,” I whisper, the absoluteness in him too intense to fight.
“That time will come, and I’m not ready yet to find out how you’ll react. Not because of some man in your past. Because of me. Because right now, I don’t deserve that kind of trust.”
“Kayden—”
He kisses me, fingers twining roughly, erotically in my hair, and I taste the demons of his past, the inner war he battles but will not fully allow me to fight with him. I lean into him, trying to feel him close, but he is quick to deny me that touch, and almost as if he is punishing me for trying, he tears his mouth from mine, leaving me panting for the more that is now out of reach.
He moves behind me, the thick ridge of his erection nestling between my thighs, pressing into the silky wet heat of my sex, teasing me with how easily he could be inside me. And I want him inside me. His hands caress up and down my sides, leaving me cold where he is not touching and hot where he is. I arch into him, my breasts thrusting in the air, a silent plea for his hands, but I am granted only a side brush, a light tease of fingers on my pebbled nipples. A soft brush of fingers on my clit never fully realized.
“Kayden,” I whisper, squeezing my thighs around his shaft, the need for everything when he gives me so little pure torture I can do nothing to resolve.
“Lean forward,” he urges, a command in his voice. “Elbows on the rug.” He doesn’t give me time to digest the order, pressing me forward, hand flattening on my back, the position thrusting my backside into the air, leaving me vulnerable and exposed, but there is no time to think of what might happen. He cups my backside, caressing me over and over, and his words play in my mind. I will tease you. Bite you. Spank you. As if he is in my head, his palm lifts and comes back down with a fast smack that is not painful, but shocking, and has me yelping and trying to sit up. But that hand of his is back on my spine, holding me down.
“Trust,” he says. “Do I have it or not?”
I bite my bottom lip, willing my heart rate to calm. He hasn’t hurt me. Not even close, and I whisper, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”