Текст книги "Playing Hard to Master"
Автор книги: Sparrow Beckett
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
Chapter Six
The smell of the bakery hit him three blocks away. It was the best possible advertising for the place—even better than the TV spots and bus ads Ambrose had taken out as part of his mother’s Christmas gift last year. He’d gotten smacked for that. Although she’d let him loan her the money to open the place, she’d paid him back, and hadn’t accepted any help from him since. Apparently, Christmas gifts weren’t exempt from this rule.
Stubborn.
The happy jingle of the bell was pleasant rather than annoying, and his mother came out of the back immediately. When she saw it was him, she grinned.
“Glenn! There’s a troublemaker out here. You need to come throw him out.”
Jody Langly hugged him hard and stood on her toes to rub a hand over his short hair. “Even when you grow it you look like such a delinquent!”
His father came out of the back, shaking his head, arms crossed.
“Hair, no hair . . . It doesn’t matter. The kid always looks like a goon.” His father shook his hand, and they sized each other up like they did every time they were together. Glenn wasn’t exactly a small man, but he was almost a head shorter than Ambrose. “I could still take you.”
“For now, old wolf. You’re getting a little long in the tooth, there. I’m counting the days.”
His father punched his shoulder and chuckled.
“I can’t believe you left your office! Are you here for a visit or to stock your kick-ass kitchen?” Mom had some serious kitchen envy and made excuses to cook at his place regularly.
“I . . . have a date. I’m just here to pick up fresh bread.”
“Oh my God! Like an actual date?”
Ambrose sighed. “Yes, Mother.”
“But does she know . . .” She made a strange but deliberate gesture, which involved much hand swirling and waggling of eyebrows.
His father facepalmed, then patted her on the back. “I’m sure she knows he’s into kink, dear. Leaving that sort of thing up to chance probably doesn’t turn out well. Unless you meant unicycling? I’m not sure if even he knows whether he’s into that.”
Ambrose snorted at his father’s joke, but thought immediately of Konstantin. Not addressing kink early in a relationship really didn’t turn out well. Maybe he should send Dad over to talk to him and knock some sense into his thick head. Agreeing to marry a stranger? Ridiculous.
“Yes, she knows.” He chuckled. “Is that good enough, or do you want details?” However, she didn’t know about his money. He’d bet his dad would have something to say about that. Guilt crept in. Fuck. Is it hot in here?
His mother put her hands over her ears. “Oh, just get him the bread he wants while I look for the mental bleach. I think I left some under the sink.” Without so much as a good-bye, she bustled into the back.
“There’s bread in the oven.”
“No bun in the oven?”
“Badum-ching. Yeah. Haven’t heard that one before. What do you want, kid?”
“Hm . . . What’s the best right now?”
“French loaf is ready.”
“That works.”
His dad turned to grab two off the shelf. “Well, I’m glad you’re going to have an actual date. Dwelling on your exes is fine for poets and artists, but the rest of us can’t live off of angst.”
“I’m not angsting.”
He smiled grimly. “Not anymore, but you did for a long time.”
“It was a huge loss to me at the time, and I was just finishing school. Too much changed all at once.” Ambrose shrugged. “We all have our moments of weakness.”
“True enough. I guess if your mother left me you’d find me dead in a ditch somewhere. But we’ve been together since high school. I don’t know how to be me without her.”
“Yeah, I want what you and Mom have. Now stop talking like that. You’re freaking me out.”
Glenn shook himself like a dog coming out of the rain. “Yeah, where the hell did that come from? Anyway, I’m just saying that it’s about damn time you put yourself out there again. You’re not happy single, I can tell that. If your brother never married, it wouldn’t surprise me, but I think you’d live half a life with no partner.”
Oh jeez. No pressure. “It’s just a date. Don’t start counting on grandchildren just yet.”
His father smiled mysteriously. “Stranger things have happened.” He waved and walked off, presumably in search of Jody. Damn it. He hadn’t waited for Ambrose to pay him again. They were getting sneaky.
Ambrose fished in his wallet, hoping he had cash on him. He smacked fifty bucks down on the counter, pretending he didn’t have anything smaller, and walked out the door. Served them right.
* * *
Ambrose had gone through his ingredients list so many times he was surprised he hadn’t worn a hole in it with his eyes. Why had he decided to cook something that had to be made while she was there? If he’d picked something that took a while in the oven, he could have set a timer and put the food on IGNORE.
It was at times like this that he wished that alcohol and BDSM weren’t such a bad mix. He could use a drink.
The house was spotless. He’d hired a maid service to give the place a once-over, even though he usually did it all himself. He rehearsed his lies one more time then made himself stop. If it sounded too rehearsed, she’d be suspicious. Why was he so nervous about this? They’d already had an interesting D/s dynamic going, and had mind-blowing sex—there was no reason for him to feel like he’d drunk five pots of coffee today.
Was it the lying, or the food, or was it the potential she represented that set him on edge?
When the bell finally rang, he was staring at his phone, waiting for a “sorry, I’m not showing up” text, even though she wasn’t late. God, this was going to be a mess.
This date thing was too formal. He didn’t do formal.
By the time he got to the door he was almost gasping for breath. What the hell? Maybe she’d think he was working out instead of having a panic attack. But who worked out in jeans and a T-shirt and right before a date?
He swung open the door, and there was Everly, wavy brown and purple hair tumbling around her shoulders, curves that would make a lesser man faint, and one brow arched elegantly over her lovely amber eyes.
“When you said you were house-sitting, I assumed you meant at a house, not a mansion.” She looked around the foyer as he stepped back to let her in, and whistled. “So your buddy from school, he’s loaded? You neglected to mention that.”
Ambrose shrugged. If she hated wealth as much as she seemed to, he was in deep shit. He was planning on telling her the whole truth as soon as she was sold on him, as a person. For goodness’ sake, he’d grown up poor. It wasn’t like he’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. But still, lying to her made him feel like an ass. She deserved to know the truth, but he couldn’t figure out how to tell her without ruining everything. Especially after running away the other night.
“I didn’t think it was important.”
He took her coat and hung it on the banister, then led the way into the kitchen.
“Holy shit.” Everly turned in a circle, taking in the great room. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice the way it made him wince. “Some of this artwork alone could keep the no-freeze shelter open for months.” She went to inspect the paintings that graced the room.
It was difficult not to preen with borrowed pride, considering three of the pieces were Banner’s art, and one was Rook’s. Now, if Ambrose bought himself a Spirograph or something he might be in business, but unless the art was food-related, he was hopeless.
“They were gifts from our friend Banner and his little brother.”
“Are all of your friends rich?”
“Pretty much. Banner and Rook did the paintings themselves though.”
She grimaced. “Wow. So awkward that you’re the only one in your friend group who didn’t make it big. Does it bother you?”
Ambrose bit his lips together and tried to look thoughtful, even though dread was trying to take over. Fuck! Three minutes into this date, and things were already falling apart.
“No. They’re all self-made men. Envying someone else’s hard work and luck is pointless.” He walked into the kitchen area, trying to think of a way to change the subject. When she eventually found out about him, hopefully she would have forgotten this conversation. “Besides, I get to use their stuff.” Maybe he should just come clean now, but he wasn’t ready for her to storm out of his life. Yeah, maybe he was chickenshit, but if he just waited a little while longer, she might like him enough to accept him. Right?
He pulled out the ingredients for dinner.
“What are you making?” She was at his elbow, watching what he was doing
“Food. I was planning on doing steak with some side dishes.” He paused. “I forgot to ask. Are you a vegetarian?”
“Is bacon a vegetable?” Everly laughed. “No, you’re safe. I have no qualms about having meat in my mouth.” She glanced at him slyly, and he couldn’t help dropping his gaze to her lips.
Fuck, she gave good head.
“Behave, woman,” he growled teasingly. “You wanted a date, so this is a date. If you wanted me to shove you to your knees and use your naughty mouth, you just had to ask.”
She glared and opened her mouth in mock offense, and he couldn’t resist putting his finger in. Instead of smacking him, as he’d expected, she latched onto his finger, sucking, then nibbling on his fingertip. His cock awoke and clamored for the same treatment.
“Do you need corner time again?”
Everly stepped back, letting his finger slide free from her sexy mouth. “But, Sir, I assumed that was what you wanted me to do. Did I do it wrong?”
Fuck, that was true. She threw him off his game so easily sometimes. “No, you did it too well.”
“Well, then, Sir”—she grinned up at him—“I’ll do my very best to be . . . less pleasing.”
Ambrose had a full body urge to throw her on the counter and show her what happened to bratty little girls. Screaming orgasms, apparently. From a Dom perspective, he was sure that wasn’t right, but it was exactly what he wanted to do to her.
“What does that face mean?” She was holding back a laugh.
He pulled her close and kissed her gently. Without hesitation, she pressed against him, not balking when he deepened the kiss. They kissed for a few minutes, then he pulled her down onto the floor. They grappled, and she ended up on top of him, her legs straddling his in the perfect position to fuck. She rocked her hips, rubbing her pussy against his hard-on, through their clothes. She nipped his bottom lip, and he spanked her ass and growled at her, then rolled her to her back, thrusting against her and frustrating himself in the process. When he stilled, she groaned and tried to coax him into moving again.
It took Herculean self-control to get to his feet and pull her up.
“But why?” she asked, pressing against him.
“Behave. First of all, you wanted a date, so you’re getting a damned date. I’m making dinner, and then we’re going to eat that dinner. We will have an interesting and meaningful conversation, so I can show you how fun and clever I am. Second, I have no intention of coming in my pants. I’m too old for that shit.”
Everly gave a sly laugh and dropped to her knees, then closed her teeth over the shaft of his dick, through his pants. Unable to resist, he grabbed her hair and let her play for a minute before dragging her back to her feet.
“Enough.” His voice croaked, but rather than looking amused, she seemed as horny as he felt.
“Please, Sir?”
He hesitated, wanting to do the right thing, but she was making it so . . . hard. “No.”
She groaned and rubbed against him. “Not even for a second?”
Enough. He spun her around and forced her down over the counter, then spanked the backs of her thighs until she danced from foot to foot. Even through her leggings and little skirt it had to sting.
“Ow, ow, ow!” She squealed and squirmed.
Ambrose had to force himself to stop. Horny sadists had to be careful not to go overboard.
Everly grimaced, which was adorable. He lifted her onto the counter and kissed her nose.
“Now you be a good girl and sit here while I cook dinner.”
“Cruel man.”
“You don’t know the half of it, princess.”
They stared at each other for a moment, and she lowered her gaze.
While she watched, he diced onion, chopped mushrooms, warmed frying pans.
“Who taught you to cook?”
Ambrose shrugged. “My parents, but they mostly bake now that my mom has her bakery. That’s where I got the bread.” He hoped that didn’t make his family sound too rich for Everly, but he was proud of how well his mother had done. The business was doing even better now that his father had retired and joined her. Four hands were better than two.
“Cool. It’s nice to hear about small businesses doing well with multinational corporations taking over everything.” She stretched out on the counter, like a cat. A collar with a bell would be adorable on her. She should also be naked.
He put the steak topping on simmer and tried to focus on making a side dish, instead of fantasizing about taking the scissors out of the drawer and cutting her clothes off. If they ever got into serious D/s, he’d keep her naked whenever possible.
“Can I help with anything?”
Ambrose chuckled. “I don’t think you want to hear my answer to that.”
“What’s so funny? I can cook, you know. Maybe I’m not as fancy as you are, but who can afford steak all the time?”
Hmm . . . Maybe he should have made spaghetti. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking about food, bad girl. I was going to suggest you get naked, but I decided it wasn’t very date-like to say it out loud. And as for the fancy dinner, I have to make sure I impress you now, before some other Dominant snaps you up.”
She rolled her eyes. “You could have had me five minutes ago, but you insisted we needed to eat first.”
“You insisted we needed to have a real date. I was all for fucking you as soon as you set foot in the house.” He shrugged. “Besides, maybe we should get to know each other, since I can’t seem to keep my hands off of you.”
He was expecting a smart-ass response, but she blushed and looked away.
Mmm . . . girl . . .
Everything was ready at the same time—a skill he’d worked hard to master in the last couple of years. As he arranged everything on plates, Everly took a seat at the kitchen table. It was more intimate than the dining room, and less ostentatious.
When he set the plate down in front of her, she looked impressed. Excellent.
“Wow! You’re good. Have you ever thought about becoming a chef?”
He’d put the place settings so close together that they almost touched, so when he sat down, his leg brushed hers. A zing of electricity shot through him, as though he hadn’t been balls deep in her the other day. He’d assumed that after they’d slept together he’d stop feeling so obsessed, but if anything, it had made it worse. The way she sassed him, yet submitted to him so thoroughly, made him want her all the more.
“Cooking is probably more fun as a hobby than it would be if it was my job.” He cut into his steak, pleased to see it had turned out perfectly even though he had no appetite. Not for food.
Everly took a bite. Her manners were impeccable, which fascinated him. Watching her put things in her mouth also fascinated him. Was she always this prim about eating? He tried not to stare, but failed miserably. The look of pleasure on her face probably wasn’t helping. It brought lewder things to mind.
“Mmm.” She picked her napkin up out of her lap and dabbed at her mouth. “Are you not eating?”
Fuck, his dick was getting hard again.
“I just wanted to see if you liked it,” he lied, skewering a bite of steak with his fork.
“This is probably the tastiest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” She smirked, and he leaned in and stole a kiss.
“That was the most interesting backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”
“Well, the next best is far too big, really. Having it in my mouth makes it hard to be ladylike.”
He blinked at her, contemplating dragging her into his office by the hair, but that wouldn’t be considered romantic by most people. “You should behave yourself, miss. I will be playing with you later, so you might want to watch your mouth.”
“Oh really? But why? You seem to be doing that job well enough for both of us,” she said archly. She popped another bite of steak into her mouth, but even though he’d been caught staring, he was helpless to look away.
“Woman, how on earth are you single? You’re the type I usually pine after while they have deep and meaningful relationships with some other guy.”
“I have a hard time picturing you pining.” She took a last bite of food, then smiled.
“Oh, it’s pretty much my natural state. Don’t I smell Christmassy?”
“I’ll check later.” She winked. “As for why I’m single, I want a D/s relationship, but I’m too much of a handful for most men. I haven’t been able to find anyone who likes bratting and who I have a deep connection with.”
“You don’t want to try to train your own Dom?” A visual of her looking sweet and demure came to mind.
She snorted. “I’m a handful for experienced Doms. I’m not sure I’m beginner training material.”
“Sex and relationships are complicated enough. Add BDSM and finding someone compatible gets difficult.” The warm feeling he’d gotten when he was thinking about her at the bakery came back. His feelings about her were moving too fast. Time to change the subject.
Not hungry, Ambrose set aside his plate and started to clear things away.
“So, what else would you like to do on our date? Dance? Watch a movie? Go for a walk?”
“Those all sound good. You’re not going to show me around the house first, though?”
He shrugged. “If you want.” This was going to be tricky. He was excited to show her around, wanting her to like the house, wondering if she’d sleep in his bed, but knowing she never would if she knew the place was his. Every other woman he’d dated was impressed by the house, even if Banner told him that his decorating was obnoxious and ostentatious. Not being able to use the place to his advantage, considering he wasn’t a smooth talker or sophisticated, didn’t give him much to work with. He expected to woo potential girls with expensive gifts. Of course he’d managed to find the one girl it wouldn’t work on.
Everly’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I want.”
Such a naughty girl. He’d make her want, all right. “Come with me, then. I’ll give you the in-depth tour.”
“I think I choked on that tour the other night.”
Ambrose snorted. If she thought he’d feel guilty about that, she was sadly mistaken.
He took her by the hand and led her through the house, enjoying the way she’d pause to look at artwork here and there. Last, he showed her the indoor pool.
“See, now this is what I’m talking about.” She sighed. “This pool is bigger than the one at the community center my mom used to drop me off at when I was a kid. What single man needs so much just for him? And the rest of it”—she gestured at the room’s decor—“shows that your buddy has more money than taste.”
He winced. “Thomas is a bachelor. He’s also pretty good at getting what he wants.”
“Like most rich people. They do whatever it takes to get what they want, no matter who it hurts.”
“Want to go for a swim?” His tone soured, although he hadn’t meant it to. “Or is this room too ugly to hang out in?”
“Oh, I offended you.” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you’d take it personally. I’d love to go for a swim, but . . . I didn’t bring a suit.” Her shrug was a thing of beauty, laced as it was with suggestive invitation.
“You’ll just have to skinny-dip, then.” His next words cost him a lot. “Unless you want to borrow a pair of my swim shorts and a T-shirt?” Please say no.
“Do you think I need to cover myself? Are you untrustworthy, Sir?”
“Why, yes, I’m extremely untrustworthy. But I can guarantee a swimsuit won’t deter me.”
She fiddled with the hem of her dress, as though she were shy and hadn’t begged for him to make her come several times now. “Is this all a ploy to get me naked?”
“Yes.”
There was a feigned gasp of shock. “Is this the room you keep your concubines in, oh Sultan?”
He laughed. “Banner and Konstantin joke about me keeping concubines here . . . when Thomas is away.” Fuck. He’d almost blown it. “Okay, concubine, show the Sultan what you have under that pretty dress.”
“The Sultan is a pervert, I see.” Amused, she lifted her dress over her head and stripped it off. Her matching bra-and-panty set was cobalt blue, and could well have worked as a bikini except for the fact that the bra was cupless. Her nipples, pink and stiff, made him regret he’d have to go upstairs if he wanted to get clamps for them.
Ambrose realized he’d been staring at her tits and her lovely curves too long, and he forced his gaze back up to her eyes.
“Lucky for you, I don’t have anything in this room to torture you with. Other than myself.”
She snorted. “If you were to excuse yourself momentarily, Master Sultan, I’m sure I could find some way to amuse myself until you come back.”
To the sound of her laughter, he was up the stairs and back in record time. She still stood almost where he’d left her.
“Come here, girl.”
“‘Girl’? Can’t you think of something better to call me?” She came to him anyway, the sway of her hips making his mouth water more than the steak had.
“Slave.” He opened his hand and showed her the slave bells he’d brought back.
“Slave?” She blinked at him. “I don’t make a good slave. Masters don’t like me.”
“I like you.”
“Are you a Master?”
“Yes, and I can be quite strict.”
A sigh escaped her, but it sounded more like longing than irritation.
Ambrose crouched and fastened the slave bells around her ankle.
“They’re so pretty!” She moved her foot and they chimed quietly.
He’d bought them on a whim when he’d picked up several other toys he had every intention of using on her.
“They are. They suit you.” From her ankle, he ran his palm up her smooth calf, and she inhaled sharply, as though she hadn’t expected it.
He rose and kissed her. She melted against him and a territorial growl tried to sneak out. When he’d seen her at the damned club, he’d wanted to punch that idiot Dom in the face. Actually, the guy had been decent about things when he’d realized she was taken, even though she technically wasn’t. But still, he’d been in bed when the text came from Konstantin and he’d found himself racing across town to reclaim her.
Maybe a real relationship was daunting to him, but it wasn’t as hard as seeing her about to submit to another man. If he wanted to play with her and not have to share, he’d have to figure out how to deal with his shit.
Ambrose pulled her over to a chair and sat her in his lap. He showed her the belled nipple clamps he also had with him, and she squirmed in place, unintentionally doing interesting things to his dick.
“Do you like clamps, slave?”
Her voice went small. “No, Sultan. But I’ll wear them if it pleases you.”
“Yes, you will.” He stroked her midsection, her shoulders, then gradually allowed himself to move to her breasts, but only when she was starting to follow his hand for attention there. He used gentle fingers at first, and gradually got rough, listening to her nonverbals. When he thought the pain would start being too much for her, her writhing became more pronounced and desperate. She rubbed against him as though she was ready to fuck.
Gently, he attached the clamps to her perfect nipples, loving the gasps and squeals they drew from her. He flicked the bells on the clamps then rubbed a finger gently over the exposed ends of her engorging nipples.
Everly groaned and ground against him, her panties not providing much separation between them. He stroked her lovely body, watching the way she responded to his touch. It didn’t take long to learn what she hated and what she loved, and he catalogued both for future reference.
“When I saw you playing with the other Dom, it made me unhappy, slave.”
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore. Besides, we never said we’d be exclusive.”
True.
Ambrose considered what it would be like to go to the club tomorrow night and play with someone else, but the idea fell flat. Everly was everything he wanted.
“For now, then. I want a promise that for now you won’t play with other men.”
“Until when?”
“Until we’ve established that the agreement is over.”
She paused, her hesitation making him irritable. Was it that hard to agree to this for a while? This whole thing was making him uncomfortable. It was getting very one-sided, with him becoming obsessed and her seeming indifferent. Or was he not reading her right?
“Yes, Sir.” She held her breath for a moment. “But only if you don’t take any other submissives while we’re together. I know some Doms don’t like having limits put on them, but if I’m expected to be exclusive I demand the same from you.” Everly was studying the floor, but he could feel her waiting for an answer.
He grabbed her chin and made her look at him.
“That was the idea, sweetheart. Besides, I doubt I could handle another girl while you have my attention.”
“I’ll try to make sure you don’t get bored and wander off.” She bit her lip, her cheeks pink and her eyes shining.
Shit. What was he doing? Now that she’d agreed, the internal backpedaling had begun. What’s the worst thing that could happen, Ambrose? Just don’t go off the deep end for this girl and there won’t be a problem.
Her eyes narrowed, and she squirmed on his lap more deliberately this time, an invitation rather than a reaction.
Time to think later.
“Did I tell you to tempt me, slave?” He frowned, trying to look displeased. “Kneel there and think about what obedience means.”
She groaned but got down from his lap and knelt where he’d indicated.
“What were you hoping to do, squirming your ass against me like that?”
“Honestly, oh Sultan? This slave was hoping you would use her.” She knelt up straighter and thrust her breasts out at him, the bells jingling with her movements.
He flicked the bells again, one after the other, until she was writhing in place, her hoarse little cries making his dick pulse. “You want me to use your ass, pretty slave?”
She mewled and shook her head.
“Well, that’s what your Master would assume, since it was your ass you were grinding against him.”
“I—I don’t think my ass could take you, Master.” Her eyes were wide. “You’re . . . big.”
“You’d let me try.”
Everly blushed brightly. “I would.”
Motherfucker. A girl should not be able to make him so hot with such a short sentence.
“Well, if it’s been that long since you were fucked there, we should probably prep you first.”
Arousal, interest, horror, interest—all crossed her face in quick succession.
“Prep me?” she squeaked.
“Do you like buttplugs?”
“I, uh, I don’t like them, no.”
“But you’ll let me use them on you if you don’t want me to hurt your ass later?” He raised a brow.
Her gaze lowered, but she nodded. “Now?”
“My, aren’t you eager? I was thinking we could wait awhile, but if you’re that hot to have me in your ass, we could start tonight.” He chuckled, enjoying the way she hid her face in her hands. “Well?”
“If it pleases you, Master,” she mumbled into her palms.
He went to the sound system and found a melodic metal album that had hints of Middle Eastern musical influence, and set it to play.
“Up.” He returned to her and pulled her to her feet. “Dance for me.”
Her frown of distress was adorable. “What? No! I don’t know how.”
When he’d placed her where he wanted her, he left her there and sat back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Everyone can dance. Move for me like you’re my slave girl.”
“A slave girl trying to get her Sultan’s attention?”
“Exactly.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“I need to remind you that I’m in charge somehow.” He let his gaze slide over her, then clapped his hands. “Dance. Now.”
Everly shook her hair back, the arch of her neck and curve of her clavicle making him crazy. She huffed in exasperation. Her eyes closed, probably to help her forget she was being watched. The subtle movements, the shy sway of her hips, grew bolder when he didn’t interrupt. The cadence changed as one song shifted almost seamlessly to the next, and the beat got heavier and more sexual. Now the bells were ringing in time with her movement, the anklet keeping time with the movement of her feet.
God, she was beautiful.
She danced as though she were alone, and she’d forgotten he was there. Or maybe she’d taken a class? He watched, rapt, forgetting this was a game between them.
She was his slave, dancing for his pleasure. The anklet was his mark of ownership, and she wore it, proud to be his. He could do anything to her—hurt her, fuck her, love her—and her dance was her silent way of begging him for any and all of it. The possessive tension in him grew until he could hardly bear it.
This was his woman. If anyone tried to take her, he’d fight for her. He’d win her back. Maybe it was crazy, and too soon, but it was her fault for making him crazy.
Silently, he got up and moved closer, until he was near enough to touch, but for a moment he only enjoyed the scent of her, and her radiant warmth. Unable to resist for long, he put his hand on her waist.
She gave a start, gasped, and her eyes flew open. After a slight hesitation, she adjusted her movements to accommodate him as he started to dance with her. He pulled her close and kissed her. He nudged his thigh between her legs, and she pressed against him, her pussy hot. She reached between them and wrapped her small fingers along the hard outline of his cock, teasing him, kissing his jaw.
Fuck, she made him crazy.
He grabbed Everly’s arm and dragged her, surprised, over to the wall next to the window. He shoved her back against it. Her breath caught, and she whimpered, bowing her head.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not very good at dancing.”
Ambrose groaned. “You’re too fucking perfect. I need to be inside you. Now. I can’t wait anymore.”
“Yes, Master.” Her cheeks were pink, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
He plunged two fingers into her mouth, then growled as she sucked them, the feeling of it just as sexy as watching her mouth work around him. So many things he wanted. He thought about shoving her down and coaxing her into giving him a blowjob, but he couldn’t wait that long to get into her pussy.
He ground against her until she was jammed against the wall, then bit her neck. She yielded to him, making small, needy sounds that threatened to send his aggression into overdrive. Her mouth let go of his fingers, and he shoved her panties down out of his way and toggled her clit piercing, making her eyes roll back. She shifted, then kicked her panties off entirely, just as he yanked the nipple clamps off of her. She screamed, then trembled against him, as he leaned down and sucked her nipples, the pleading sounds she made feeding his adrenaline.
