Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 1)

His mind flashed back to his old obsession with tying Riley up and having her at his mercy. At the time he hadn’t had the balls to ask if he could try it.

Next came the vivid memory of her going down on him and repeatedly convincing him to put his hand in her hair. She’d teased him with her mouth, keeping him on edge, daring him to make her do what she wanted, but he’d been taught to respect women. Wanting to hurt or force the girl he loved had made him feel like the worst kind of pervert. He hadn’t understood the difference between abuse and BDSM back then.

She shrugged. “We were practically babies, Nate. Grades ten to twelve? Fifteen to seventeen? We didn’t even have sex until what? Six months before school ended?”

“Yeah.” He tried to stop himself from going there, but his dick remembered all too well. Tight, slick heat. Her whimpers of discomfort. He’d been gentle, and had managed to make it good for her afterward even though he’d only lasted a few minutes. God, he’d been so in love with her – had been making payments on a ring so he could propose to her for real instead of just joking about it.

He’d had plans for their future, but apparently the ones she’d made for herself hadn’t included him.

“I’ll play with you,” she finally said. “Hell, I’ve thought about it often enough.”

Oh she had, had she?

A thrill of anticipation and uncertainty lanced through him. He should back out, but if he didn’t do this he’d be kicking himself forever.

“What ar

e your limits?”

She shrugged. “I’m not big on getting pissed on. Other than that we can play it by ear.”

Fair enough. He wasn’t into that either.

“What’s your safeword?”

“For you? Algebra.”

“So ungrateful.” Warmth at the shared amusement spread through him. A weird remembered affection flared back to life. He’d always thought she’d walked away and forgotten about him, but apparently he’d been wrong. “But did you pass that test?”

“I did, and you know it, you bastard.”

They both laughed. Edging had made for a good study session.

“I swear I yelled ‘it’s the motherfucking coefficient!’ every time I orgasmed until a few months ago.” Her smirk made her irresistible.

“Sounds like you need another tutoring session.”

Her eyes narrowed in challenge. “Still think you have things to teach me?” Her sultry rasp made him crazy.

“That depends. I’m not the nice boy you used to tease, Riley Bettina. You mess with me now and you’ll be punished.”

She shivered. “Damn. Is using my middle name even fair?”

“I used to know you better than anyone.”

She edged closer, tipping her head back to look up at him. “Who knows? Maybe you still do.” Her lips parted and he had the reckless urge to kiss her.

He slid a hand into her hair. The memory of how it felt in his hands had never left him, but now he could do it the way he’d always been tempted to. His fist closed in her hair, close to her scalp. Rather than the horror he’d always envisioned in her gaze when he thought of doing this, her expression softened with lust.

Not pretending. Not a dream. The warmth of her tawny hair caressed his palm.

He was here, but he was there too.

He was an experienced dominant, but with her, part of him was still the sixteen year old boy who worshipped a girl.

He tugged her to a vacant o-ring in an alcove, wanting as much privacy as the club could provide without dragging her upstairs to a private room. Maybe even to his own suite, where he never brought anyone.

“You shy?”