Free Keep (Command #2) by Karyn Lawrence Page B

heat.
    She nodded, unable to speak.
    “Tell me.”
    “I’m… really close.”
    He returned to stand in front of her, kissing her roughly. He kept her lingering there for another moment and then took his hands off of her completely, stepping backwards.
    Her eyes flew open. “What —?”
    “I want to fuck you. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I want this to be fair.”
    The silver eyes went wide. “Fair?”
    “You don’t get to come if I don’t.” He had to make sure she wouldn’t say no, and this was the only way he knew how. He couldn’t tolerate anything less. It was inevitable, no reason to fight it. He always got what he wanted.
    But he should have known this was a mistake — he’d made enough of them already. The hurt look on her face made him wish he were dead. He was so fucking selfish. He’d left her leaning against the wall where she could barely stand. He should have stayed on his knees and finished what he’d started, instead of thinking about himself. Maybe he could apologize and she’d forgive him mid-orgasm —
    Her eyes narrowed to slits. Scheiße . That wasn’t going to happen.
    “You think” — her voice hardened with every word like she was gathering strength — “that I need you for that?”
    He didn’t understand, not until one of her shaky hands drifted down to her hip. Lower, and then she touched herself. His mouth hit the floor. Once again, he’d miscalculated. Underestimated her. Of course she didn’t need him. She’d spent her marriage being unfulfilled by her husband, so she’d taken matters into her own hands, so to speak. The darkest part of him was thrown into chaos. He wanted those to be his hands. He was supposed to bring her to ecstasy with his touch, not her own.
    “Fuck,” he breathed, watching her rub herself. A woman who knew what she wanted was deeply erotic. Willing to get what she wanted. How could he stop her? He didn’t want that. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Her icy blue eyes locked onto his and he could see everything. That she was terrified to do this in front of him, but her desire for power and control was greater. Her craving was greater. It almost collapsed his knees watching it, the most intimate act she could show him.
    He murmured encouragement, making sure to soften the hard edge of the words so her American ears would know he was anything but angry. Words of power, of strength. He told her he was her slave, that she had rule over him, and everything he had was hers.
    When her breath quickened, he jammed a hand inside his pants because he was too desperate and aching not to. She parted her lips and struggled to breathe as a tremble overtook her whole body… and just like that, it stopped. Like she was finished. She straightened and pushed her skirt down, ripping her eyes away from his. Guilty.
    “No,” he said. “No.” He came to her and put his hands on her, wanting them everywhere. On her breasts. On her legs. Inside her again. “Was that supposed to be an orgasm?”
    He silenced her protest with a kiss, one that he hoped was convincing. The need for her was overwhelming, and he was certain he’d die if she stopped him now. Instead, she shifted the angle of her head, increasing her kiss to an intensity she hadn’t given him before.
    He did have to stop, only for a moment, as he yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it away. Her fingers raced at the buttons of his dress shirt, pushed it down his shoulders, freeing him. She was as anxious to have her skin on him as he was, and their hands met fumbling at her bra clasp.
    Warm, soft skin pressed against his chest. Her breasts were amazing and tasted even better. She whimpered with pleasure when he flicked his tongue over a nipple and watched it peak to his command. The zipper of her skirt was easy enough, and it fell to her ankles, leaving her naked except for the sinful red shoes. There shouldn’t be any turning back now, but he’d been dumb enough to think that