9. Command Word #2
“You’re close,” I murmur, my lips hovering over the hollow of her throat.
“Right on the edge, just because I’m telling you to be.
That’s what I want. You helpless and perfect, coming apart while I direct it all.
And right now you’re going to give me the first taste of it—you’ll come for me on nothing but my words. ”
My hands hover over her most sensitive areas—one at her breast, the other at the apex of her thighs—she feels the charge, she arches toward them, but I don’t let her catch what she’s chasing.
“Come for me, Cami,” I order in a rasp. “Show me you’re mine. Show me.”
She arches, and her whole body shudders, a sharp cry ripping free. She jerks against the bindings, hips arching further, and her head tilting back as her orgasm crashes through her on nothing but my words and breath.
I still don’t touch her. I just let my voice be the chain.
“Good girl,” I whisper when the tremors fade, still an inch from her ear. “So fucking good for me. Remember this—remember how easily you show me, how easily you break when I decide you will.”
She’s still trembling from her release, little aftershocks moving through her while I stand close enough that she can feel the heat of me without knowing exactly where I am.
Her thighs are visibly slick and something primal in me ignites further, my body reacting as my cock gets impossibly harder.
I want another one from her.
Not just because I need the proof I can control her.
Because I want her to know she can let me.
“I’m not done with you, sweetheart.”
Her breath catches.
I move to the other side of her before I speak again, and her head turns instinctively.
She can feel me. Sense me.
“No. Focus on your body and my words. Don’t look for me.”
Her head immediately settles back.
Fuck.
“That’s my girl. Good girl.”
I let the silence stretch between us until I can see her listening to it.
Listening for me.
“You know how to do this now,” I tell her, stepping closer. “Your body knows what happens when you stop fighting for control and give it to me.”
Her fingers grip the ties.
“You’ll show me…” I watch her shiver at the words “... again and again.”
I smile because she’s learning faster than I expected.
Or maybe this was already there, and I’m simply giving it language.
Moving closer, I test again, my voice low. “Show me.”
Another shudder.
Fuck.
“You’re going to give me another one before I put my hands on you.”
“Ronan—”
“I know.”
I bring my mouth close to her ear, still denying myself the contact I want almost as badly as she does.
“I know exactly what you’re asking for, what you need.” I can see the tiny hairs at her temple move from my breath. “And I’m still saying no.”
Her frustrated sound almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
Instead, I lower my voice another fraction.
“Listen to me.”
She goes very still—even her breathing slows.
I talk her to the edge again.
Slowly and patiently.
The first climax could have been circumstance. Anticipation. Novelty.
I am almost positive I can do it again, but I want to know.
I remind her of everything I’ve promised. Everything she imagined while she couldn’t see me. I tell her what I see when I look at her now—every tremor, every caught breath, every tiny betrayal of how badly she wants what I’m withholding.
Whenever she starts chasing it, I make her slow down.
“No chasing,” I rasp.
Whenever she thinks she’s losing it, I bring her back.
My voice becomes the only thing in the room.
Then, finally, I give her permission. The words low and right against her skin.
“Show me.”
And she does.
Fuck, she does.
I watch her come apart for a second time without laying a single finger on her, and something hot and possessive settles beneath my ribs.
Because now we both undoubtedly know.
This isn’t just luck.
When her breathing finally begins to slow, I move beside her.
“Color?”
“Green.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s there.
And for the first time since we started, I put my hand on her.
Nothing intimate. My palm settles against her side.
She fucking jumps.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, but it comes out low and quiet—a dark chuckle—and I leave my hand exactly where it is.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “That’s what I thought.”
Her skin is impossibly warm beneath my palm.
I still don’t regret our first night together, but this would have been one hell of a first experience, too.
I’ve spent months imagining her like this. Imagining what she’d sound like, how she’d react, whether reality could possibly match what I’d built in my mind.
It doesn’t.
It’s better and far more dangerous than I planned for.
This isn’t about rushing—so I let her have the weight of my hand.
The certainty of it.
“That’s real,” I whisper near her ear.
I move my hand slowly.
Her breathing changes immediately.
“And when it’s time to come for me again, you’ll show me how real it is.”
She reacts to the words again.
Fuck, it’s better than I thought it would be, and it’s interesting.
Very fucking interesting.
I lean closer, keeping my hand against her while my voice drops into the cadence she’s already learned to follow.
“Stay with me, sweetheart. We’re going to find out what happens when I give you both my hands and my voice.”
She trembles and whimpers.
I smile against her ear.
“And when I tell you to show me again…”
Her breath catches.
Fuck.
“...you will.”