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“Take them off,” he said, and this time, it was a growl.

She never took her eyes off his as she hooked her fingers in the sides of her panties and dragged them down her legs.

He looked at her, desire, desperation, clawing at his throat. He had just enough breath to issue a warning. “I’m about to skip some steps,” he said.

He dropped to his knees, pressed a kiss to her stomach, just beneath her belly button. And lower. He was shaking, dying for his first taste of her. He wanted, needed, in a way he couldn’t remember ever needing. It was visceral, as necessary as breathing.

He parted her thighs slightly, widening her stance, and covered her with his mouth, sliding his tongue through her slick folds, over the little bundle of her nerves he knew would bring her the most pleasure.

She gasped and bent forward, her hands clinging to his shoulders. And he continued to taste her, deeper, faster. He couldn’t get enough of her. He never would. Her taste, the way she coated his tongue, the way she breathed his name, the way her nails cut into his skin, even with the fabric of his shirt as a buffer.

This was a first for him, something he’d never done. Because he had never cared about the satisfaction of the women in his father’s house. They were prostitutes, and he had been taught to treat them in a certain way. Taught that their pleasure came from whatever they got in trade.

He shoved the thought aside and focused on Leah.

She filled his senses. Sustained him. How had he lived without this?

He gripped her hips and pressed her more firmly against his lips, lost in the act, lost in her.

“Ajax...” She said his name like a plea, like a prayer, and when her release broke over her, almost like a curse, her body trembling as he held her up, he rested his head against her thigh, trying to catch his breath, and she laced her fingers through his hair. The gesture was shockingly sweet, coming on the tail end of something so raw and uncontrolled, and yet it felt right.

His hands were shaking, so much that he found it hard to undo the buttons on his shirt. But Leah took over. Her hands left a trail of fire over his skin, testing him, pushing him to the limit, and when she cupped him, stroked him through his jeans, he caught her wrist and pulled her hand away.

“Careful,” he said.

“What?”

“Too much.”

It certainly hadn’t been eighteen years since he’d had an orgasm, but in that time, he’d only had them alone. He had been convinced that he would have control, much in the same way he did with his own hand. That sex would feel familiar due to years of self-gratification.

But he had left out the variable.

The woman. His partner.

Leah was an active participant, and she wasn’t keeping his pace. Wasn’t letting things go down the path he’d imagined. Wasn’t allowing him to keep to his plan.

She was forging her own, and bringing him with her.

“I like that you’re on edge,” she said, putting her hand against him again. “I like that you want me so much.”

“Leah,” he bit out.

“Yes.” She sighed, squeezing him. “Say it again.”

“Don’t.”

“Not that. My name.”

“Leah,” he said again, on a feral growl.

“I like it.”

And he liked it, too. Too much to stop her, even though he should. Even though he should try to get control of the situation again. Control of his needs. He should be commanding this; he shouldn’t be at her command.

“Stop touching me,” he said. “Now.”

She removed her hand from him, and he reached down and started to work his belt, undoing it and the button and zip on his pants, shoving them down his legs and kicking them aside.

“Not fair,” she said. “I want to touch.”

“No.”

If she touched him it would be over. Not the sex. He wouldn’t come. But he didn’t know what he would do. If the fire got too hot. If the beast slipped its chains.

“Go into the bedroom,” he said. Because he had to assert authority. He had to find his control. Hold it tight.

“Is that how we’re going to play?”

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and dropped a light kiss on her lips. “If you want to play, agape, then you play by my rules. Now go to the bed and wait for me like a good girl.”

He hadn’t known it would be like this. Hadn’t known he would be like this. But this, the demands, the orders, made for an easy reminder. An easy role to slip into that would help him maintain control.


Tags: Maisey Yates Billionaire Romance