“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He bit the back of her leg where it met her ass, hard enough to make her cry out in pain. “I have dreams about that little sobbing noise you make.”
“Sadist!”
“Yes.”
He kissed the spot better, rubbing his lips back and forth over it, so close to her pussy and yet much too far away. She shifted her hips, trying to get her clit closer to his mouth and wishing she could grab him to direct him. Between the no touching rule and the fact that he was a dominant, she doubted he’d appreciate being grabbed by the hair and yanked where she wanted him.
At least he’d cared enough to find out where it was, unlike some guys.
His tongue flicked over her anus again and she squealed so loud it mortified her. Taboo pleasure shivered through her, making her ache for more even as she tried hard to hang onto her disgust. He kissed her there, licked, sliding his rough fingers along the seam of her sex, finding her clit far too proficiently. He tapped it with the pad of his finger, rhythmically until she was so fucking close but couldn’t go over the edge. She squealed and bucked, but he pulled away, his blue eyes positively glacial in the heat of the garage.
Rather than dropping his jeans and shoving into her, he merely chuckled and turned his back. Casually, he walked to the tray she’d brought him and sorted through it, unwrapping one of the roast beef sandwiches she’d brought out and biting into it.
She sat up on the workbench, watching him in horrified disbelief – her pussy and ass tingling and needy as she watched him. He was dismissing her?
Trembling, she slid off her perch, her thigh muscles sore from being held in the same position so long. Her wetness mingled with his saliva, drenching her thighs. Even the tops of her stockings felt damp. Her clit pulsed, and her legs shook as she held onto the workbench, trying not to fall off her low heels.
“That will be all, Miss Korsgaard.”
“Oh my god,” she whispered.
As though he’d forgotten about her, he kept eating his sandwich, turning the piece he was working on and examining it from a different angle.
He was serious?
She was going to die, but not before she murdered him.
“Mister Leduc, sir? May I –”
“Of course not.”
Bloody hell. That wasn’t what she wanted anyway, but she felt like her heart was never going to slow down again if she didn’t get some relief.
In a last-ditch effort to change his mind, she turned her back to him and bent from the waist to gather her clothes, hoping to give him an eyeful of what he was forgoing. When she straightened, he was in her face. Her heart beat erratically and she sucked in a breath.
“Did I say you could take these?” he asked. He walked to the forge and stuffed her skirt and blouse into the flames. The bra he tossed to her. The panties he twirled on his finger.
“Quit being distracting. I have work to do.” He hung her panties on a hook above one of the workbenches he used often. “And remember, no masturbating.”
Humiliated, she turned to go.
“And don’t even think of putting that bra back on today.”
In the ultimate walk of shame, scurrying back through the chill air, she tried to be angry. Instead, she only wanted him more.
Chapter Eight
In the darkness of his room, Severin stared at the shadows of trees swaying against the back lighting of the swollen moon. After hours of shifting and rolling in her bed, Miss Korsgaard had been still for about an hour, her soft breathing just barely audible in the chill silence of the house.
He’d laid a fire in the hearth in her room, and the quiet crackle of it pleased him. Doing things to take care of her filled him with a weird satisfaction. Clothing arrived for her in the mail almost every day now. Watching her wear the things he’d picked out to replace the things of hers he’d destroyed was...lovely.
Tension thrummed through his body remembering the glimpse he’d gotten of black lace she’d been wearing under the black silk robe when she’d come to say goodnight. The long, smooth legs. The swell of her breasts. And barefoot. He groaned, clasping his balls hard, willing his wide-awake dick to go to sleep.
He rose from bed and padded to her room, tugging his jeans up even though they only slipped down to ride his hips again. Readjusting his erection was more difficult, but having it poking above his waistband would be hard to conceal when he was shirtless. He collected a few things and stalked down the hall.
Standing at the door to her room, he watched her sleep. Why did he do this? It was so hard to resist seeing her with all of her defenses down, hair tousled, and lips parted, lit by the mysterious flickers of light from the fireplace. Nights were difficult, but days were worse. She was so impossible to ignore during the day, with her subtle submissive flirtation – the angle of her head, the openness in her gaze. Even her voice drove him crazy. She didn’t touch him, but gave him every indication that if he let her, she would rub against him like an affectionate cat. More like a cat in heat for the past few days.
Teasing her and leaving her wanting had become a game. Four days of it so far. The fact that she slept so soundly when he was awake and thinking of her just wouldn’t do.