"What do you want?"
"I…" I blink, trying to get my brain cells to function. "I want you."
"What do you want from me?" he asks in an impatient tone.
"I… I want you to fuck me."
"You need to get more specific. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."
"You know," I murmur.
"No, I don’t. You need to be more specific with what it is you need."
When I hesitate, he releases me, but I grip his hair harder. He grunts.
"What’s it going to be? What do you crave right now, Isla? Tell me. Now." His voice seems to cut through the noise in my head.
Everything else fades but me, and him, and his wicked tongue, and his cock, and those massive thighs I love to ride, that hard arse of his I love to squeeze, that gorgeous… heart of his, which I know he’s already given to me, and which I don’t deserve. But which I’m going to pretend I own just for the next few hours.
I release my hold on him and meet his gaze. "I want you to fuck all of my doubts out of me. I want you to shag me so hard, I see stars. I need you to come on my breasts. I’m desperate for you to bury your cock in my pussy, then take my arse and—"
He rises to his feet and hoists me up and over his shoulder.
37
Liam
"What are you doing?" she gasps.
I slap her butt, and there’s no mistaking the shivers that grip her. "You don’t talk until I let you. You don’t come until I allow you to."
"Wait, what?" This time I slap her butt cheeks one after the other, again and again, until she’s writhing, and panting, and moaning. Then I spank her again. "No more words until I give you permission.”
“But—" I slap her arse so hard, she yells. “What the fuck?”
“No more saying the four-letter word unless it’s translated into an action, you feel me, Ladybird?”
She draws in a breath, and I sense her nod.
“Good.” I spin around and walk toward the bookshelf on the far right. If the library on my island is about catering to the classics, then the one here holds my personal favorites. I press down on the spine ofVenus in Fursby Leopold von Sacher-Masoch and the door slides aside. When I step through, she stills. "You have a secret room? Is it like the red room that Christian Grey has inFifty Shades of Grey?"
I slap her butt again, she huffs. “What the hell, Liam?”
“Remember what I said? You ask me for permission before I let you speak.”
She scoffs.
“Isla,” I lower my voice to a huff, “defy me, and I promise I’ll wallop you so hard, you’ll feel my handprint on your arse for days.”
A shudder grips her, and that’s almost my undoing. She likes it when I talk dirty to her. She loves it when I slap her butt. Can she be any more perfect?
“Fine, fine. Permission to speak, please?”
“That wasn’t very polite,” I smirk. She makes a growling sound at the back of her throat, but when she speaks her voice is subdued. “Permission to speak please?”
“There, that wasn’t too hard, was it? Also, I heard you the first time. Who’s this Christian character?”
"You haven’t heard ofFifty Shades of Grey?" she cries in surprise.