“Did I say you could touch me, Kitten?” I growl in her ear as I slide a hand under the plunging neckline of the dress, fingers swirling around her areola.
“No, sir,” she whispers on a breathless gasp. My chest aches at her sweet voice. I’ve tried picturing her like this too many times to count. I’ve imagined the way her skin would feel and the sounds she would make under my hands. I always assumed Kenna wouldn’t want the things I did. I assumed my desires would repulse her. And now it’s clear that I assumed wrong.
Her breath catches when I touch her. Her pulse races under her skin. There’s no revulsion in the soft moans that escape her lips. No. The act of submission excites her, and that changes everything.
If that was a lifestyle she chose, I wouldn’t say a fucking word. Those were Dean’s exact words. I’ll never forget them. I couldn’t. I’ve replayed them in my head every day for the last eight years.
If Kenna is here on her own; chooses this on her own… the promise I made to Dean no longer applies. A flare of hope twists around my heart, unchaining the long-restrained need to make her mine. I just have to pray that Dean is as good as his word, because I’m not letting Kenna go again, no matter the cost.
I palm her breasts, squeezing hard and listening as her breathing picks up. Her nipples pebble under my touch, tightening into stiff little peaks, begging for attention. The savage side of me wants to rip this dress off of her and fuck her against the wall until she’s begging for her orgasm.
But she wouldn’t know it was me and that just doesn’t sit right. No, the first time I sink into her, I want her to know it’s my cock filling her up. I want her to look me in the eye and scream my name when she comes. Fucking her will have to wait, but in the meantime, I can certainly give her a reason to come back.
There’s a high-backed leather chair against the wall. I sit, grasping her hips and guiding her to my lap. “Sit,” I demand.
I smile as her soft weight settles on my thighs. She’s trying to keep her legs together and perch on top of me like a little bird. Her posture is so prim, she could just as easily be sitting in the front pew at church. That won’t do.
“Clasp your arms behind your back and spread your legs, Kitten.”
Kenna puts her hands behind her back, hands gripping the opposite forearm, but she doesn’t spread her legs. She bites her lip, hesitating. I land a slight smack on the bit of thigh peeking out of the slit in her dress. She gasps, blindfolded face turning my direction sightlessly, but I grin to myself. All the indignant huffing in the world can’t disguise the way she squirmed in my lap, breath hitching. She’s aroused, and she’s not good at hiding it.
“You get off on hurting women?” she asks me, her voice sharp even as I feel her rubbing her thighs together.
“Are you really going to tell me that didn’t turn you on?” I whisper against her neck, trailing my fingers over the faint red mark on her inner thigh. She shakes her head even as she shivers.
“It didn’t.”
“No? Then why are you leaving a wet spot on my pants, Kitten?”
Grasping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I make her face forward again. Some subs are easy. Pliant. But not Kenna. And I like that far more than I should. Sliding my hand around her slender throat, I press on the sides. Not hard. Just enough to remind her I’ve got her. Kenna whimpers, hips restless as I speak low in her ear.
“You’re new to this, so I’m being patient.” At least for now. “I don’t get off on hurting people. I get off on control. I get off when you trust me. I get off when you submit. If I have to redden your ass to make you submit, that is entirely up to you. Good little kittens get to come. Naughty kittens get punished. If you don’t want to be punished, then do as you're told and don’t lie to me again. If I ask you if something turns you on, you answer me. If I ask you how wet your greedy little pussy is, you tell me the truth. You tell me it’s dripping. Aching. Empty and needy. You don’t lie to me. Got it?”
“Yes,” she breathes. I smack her other thigh, and she jumps, tight ass rolling in my lap. “Yes, sir.” She corrects herself.
“Better. Now listen to me, Kitten. Because this is important. I’ve got you. All you have to do is let go and trust me to take care of you. If you can’t do that, I need you to tell me now.”
“Trust you? I barely even know you.”
“You’re right, you don’t, but you still have to choose. Give me your trust or go home.”
Kenna hesitates for a long, heart-pounding second. I already know that whatever her answer, I’m not letting her go. If she wants to leave, I’ll take her home and never come back. Make a deal with Dean. Promise to change. I can live a vanilla life if it means having her.
But then she leans back, head resting against my shoulder. “I’m not leaving.” She hesitates for a moment and then adds, “I can find someone else if you don’t want me.”
Over. My. Dead. Body. A growl works its way out of my chest.
“Oh, I want you, Kitten. Spread those pretty legs like I told you.”
This time, she does as she’s told. Her legs fall open, thighs exposed as the slit of her dress lets the fabric pool on either side of us. I swear to Christ, I can smell the faint scent of her arousal, and it makes my dick throb under her ass. I would give anything to bury myself inside her. To fill her and fuck her and love her, but I won’t. I can’t. At least not yet.