“Oh, thank God,” I whimper, my body turning to jelly as I drop eagerly to my knees. I grab him by the hips and pull him closer, working him out of his boxers. I’m about to put him in my mouth when he suddenly pulls away from me. “Ryan, what—”
He steps back several feet until his hip hits the dresser. Then he braces his hands to either side, gripping the dark wood, and glares down at me, his gaze molten.
I don’t let myself shrink under his stare. I want him looking at me. I’m on my knees in this sexy devil costume, red-painted lips smeared by his kisses. Feeling empowered by the hunger in his eyes, I lift my hands to the top of my red lace bustier. Fingers gripping the cups, I pull them down, letting my breast fall loose over the corset.
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and his hands grip tighter to the dresser. “Crawl.”
My pussy clenches. “What?”
“Crawl to me,” he repeats. “You want this dick? You want me to make you come? Make you scream? Take control?”
“Yes,” I beg, swallowing my nerves.
“Yes, what?” he says with a raised brow.
Oh, my sweet puppy did not come to play. I knew I sensed a hunger for domination in him. I don’t think Ryan has ever let himself explore his sexuality. He’s unsure of his likes, his cravings. Each time I’ve said or done something he reacts to, I’ve taken note. In this moment, I know exactly what he wants.
Holding his gaze, I lift my hands to my breasts, pinching my nipples until I gasp, the rush of pleasure echoing in my aching clit. “Yes, sir.” I watch him shiver with need at my words and it makes me tremble too. I love this side of him. I want to draw it out.
Play with me, baby.
“Then work for it,” he growls, those pretty green eyes blown black with desire. “Crawl to me, Tess.”
Yes, sir.
He looks like pure sin in this light, the shadows playing off the cut of his muscles. His arms flex as he grips the wood of the dresser, his pants open and sitting low on his hips. I can’t stand this distance between us for another second. Dropping down to my hands, my breasts spilling out over the top of my bustier, I crawl to him. I hold his gaze, heart hammering in my chest. I’m so turned on, I could scream. I may be the one on my knees, but he’s looking at me like I’m a goddess.
He watches me every second, not daring to look away. When he reaches out a hand, I take it. Holding tight to me, he reels me in. “Such a good fucking girl,” he says, his other hand brushing over my hair. “So beautiful on your knees for me.”
I hold in a whimper, biting my bottom lip.
“Look at me, Tess.”
I glance up, my gaze sweeping over his bare chest to hold his gaze.
“Do you like when I call you a good girl?” He’s genuinely curious. He wants to know. He wants this to be good for me too. God, he’s getting me so hot. My sweet consent king with a sneaky dom side. I’m dead.
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“But you’re not a good girl, are you?” he teases, his thumb tracing down my jaw.
“I try,” I admit, leaning into his touch.
“Bullshit,” he says with a smirk. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. Not when it comes to sex. You’re pure devil. Look at you,” he adds, raising his hand to give my little devil horns a tug. “At least mine was a costume.”
I smile up at him, batting my lashes. “Even devils can be good sometimes.”
“Yeah, when they want something,” he replies. “Tell me what you want.”
I reach out with both hands, brushing them over his jeans, up his thighs. Slowly, I tug at his jeans and briefs, pulling them down his hips. “I want my mark on you,” I admit, gazing up at him. “I want you claimed, Ryan. I saw you with your hands on that sexy Cleopatra, and I wanted to rip her fucking wig off.”
His smile falls as he gazes down at me, a curl of his blond hair sweeping across his brow. He cups my jaw, demanding my attention, his pretty green eyes dark and needy. “Do you really think I would ever look sideways at another woman when I have this goddess at my feet?”
His words strike a cord deep in my trauma-addled soul.
Pretty words. It’s just something men say, but never mean. He won’t be faithful. They never are—
“Tess,” he soothes, both hands cupping my cheeks. It’s like he knows what I’m thinking. A shiver goes through me as he brushes those gentle thumbs over my freckles. “Look at me, beautiful.”
I peer up at him through my lashes.