Chapter 19 #2
His lips graze my neck, his teeth scraping just enough to send sparks shooting through me. “You’ve got two choices, Ember. First, you can fight me—because I know you want to, even though I’ll win. Or second, you let me show how I deal with nerves.”
Uhhhhhm.
Let me…show you…
But I’m not the girl who rolls over and splays her belly. Nuh-uh. I want to be overpowered. I want to push back.
I want him to handle me.
My hands are already against his chest, pushing, testing, even though he’s as immovable as the damn wall on the rooftop where we first met.
“Ahh,” he says with a smirk and that familiar greedy gleam in his eyes. “You want a fight.”
When his hands tighten against my hips, pulling me flush against him, the pressure is maddening. The hot, sturdy feel of him between my legs sends my need into overdrive.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says in a gravelly whisper.
“You started it,” I bite back, lifting my chin in defiance.
His mouth at my ear, he nips at my earlobe. “And I’m going to finish it,” he promises as he slides me off the railing. “Turn around and put your hands on the railing. If you move them, you’ll force me to remind you what happens to naughty little queens who disobey their kings.”
Gah.
What is he going to do?
I’m hyperaware of the sounds he makes as he deftly unzips the bag with my camera. What is he—oh god.
His movements are unhurried, measured, and maddening. He knows I’m watching, already on edge, trapped between floors, conscious of every subtle shift of his body, every quiet click of the camera’s clasp.
With deliberate precision, he unfastens the leather strap around the camera and folds the ends in his palm so it makes a supple loop.
Is he—
“Jeans off, Ember,” he commands, his voice like gravel.
I don’t move. I can’t.
He steps closer, his height and breadth overwhelming me. His knuckles brush my hip as he grips the waistband of my jeans, unbuttoning them with a single, deft motion. The sound of the zipper lowering echoes in the small space.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I’m trembling as I push them down my thighs. Cool air licks at my bare skin, and I hear him hitch in a breath as I step out of them. My pulse is deafening in my ears.
The leather strap brushes over the curve of my thigh as he drags it slowly upward, teasing. A shiver runs through me.
“You think it’s cute to challenge me?” His words are a low growl in my ear, sending a jolt straight through me.
“I—”
“Why don’t we see if this will help.”
Then, without warning, his palm presses on the small of my back. The strap cracks against my ass, and I cry out, my voice breaking between pain and a rush of molten heat. He snaps it across my ass again. I come up on my toes and gasp, even as the sting melds to warm, sultry arousal.
“No more talking back, little queen.” The strap comes down again, harder this time. I’m gasping for breath. “No more second guessing or waffling. I told you what to expect, and I told you to trust me. No more running that pretty mouth of yours when you already know who’s in control.”
The strap lands again, crossing the line of heat already throbbing. I whimper, and it feels so much more like surrender than protest. My fingers dig into the bar in front of me, bracing against his command. I nod, even while I know I’m welcoming another lash of the strap.
The leather cracks down harder, and my knees buckle, my fingers clutching the bar like a lifeline. My breath is shallow, each sting searing through me, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure.
“Yes,” I manage to croak. “Yes.”
“Good girl.” His free hand smoothes over the heated line of my skin. “You like this, don’t you? The way I handle you. The way you can finally stop trying to carry everything yourself.”
He brings it back and snaps it again, another line of pain lighting up the first. “Hands on that bar, Ember. Just like that, baby.”
Again, he spanks me with the strap before he unfurls it, slides it between my legs, and then lifts it like a reverse saddle.
He drags the leather upward, teasing and deliberate, until it presses against the slick ache he’s created.
I’m so wet, so aroused, I wantonly shimmy my hips across the leather.
“Such a bad girl,” he says, shaking his head as he leans in behind me and whispers in my ear. “You want to come again, don’t you, baby?”
He slides the strap back and forth, slow and torturous, and the friction sends a jolt through me. My hips jerk, and I’m aching for relief.
“Look at you,” he says approvingly. “So eager. So willing to take what I give you.”
My body trembles as I arch into his touch.
“Beg me, little queen. Say it. I want to hear you beg.”
“Please—let me come, please.” My voice is barely audible as I’m fighting the heady rush of arousal and need, taking all my effort to hold myself up.
The strap tightens between my thighs. “Not yet. You’ll come when I say you can.”
And then it’s gone. Cool air and emptiness in its wake.
His mouth to my ear, he tortures me. “That’s the prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. The sexiest spanked ass I’ve ever laid eyes on. When you meet everyone, I want the vision of this at the forefront of your memory.”
“Rodion—”
If he doesn’t let me come—
“Patience, little queen. I want to get you to the penthouse first. We’ll talk there.”
With his warm mouth on my shoulder, he plants a scathing kiss on my collarbone before putting the strap back in place.
“We’re almost there,” he says with a wicked grin.
“Noooo,” I whine.
I topple against him, but he rights me and holds me.
“I promise you. The wait will be worth it.” I whimper when he drags my jeans up my sore ass and rights me.
“I can’t believe you’re—”
But my words die on my lips as the elevator door opens.
My stomach flips at the sight that waits for us.