Dare to Submit (NY Dares 2)

“I’m listening.” She blinked at him, brown eyes wide.

He rested their joined hands on the bar. “I’ll start with what I don’t want. No protocol. No games. Just hot, sweaty sex,” he told her, his cock tenting his dark jeans at the notion of sliding into her tight, wet sheath.

Her eyes darkened with hunger at his honest words. Beneath his thumb, her pulse was racing with the same desire beating inside him. Good, he thought, he’d read her correctly. Earlier, he hadn’t seen a woman looking to submit, he’d seen a female in need.

And their needs were obviously in sync. “I want you, Amanda. I want to get you out of here and indulge in what I’ve jerked off to since laying eyes on you months ago. I want my fingers on that gorgeous ass, my cock, burying itself inside you—”

“You had me at ‘I want you,’” she said. “There was no need to ruin a good thing with lies.” She rose to her feet, ready to bolt.

“I don’t like being insulted,” he warned, stopping her with his words and stern tone. He narrowed his gaze. “You said you don’t know me, so how can you think I’m lying?” He tightened his grip on her hand.

“If you wanted me that much, you would have approached me months ago, and as for my ass, it’s too large and—”

“Enough.” He changed his mind. Submission was definitely on tonight’s agenda. “Are you with me tonight?” he asked her.

She swallowed hard; the delicate lines of her throat moved up and down as she pondered the question. Slowly, she nodded.

He swiveled in his chair and pointed to his lap. “Then lie down. That’s ten for calling me a liar. Your ass is spectacular. Lush, round, and made for my hand.” He patted his lap again.

No way could she miss the outline of his cock pressing hard and insistent against his pants.

“I don’t… We didn’t negotiate.”

“True.” He nodded, annoyed that she got inside his head so badly he forgot the important things. “Is spanking a hard limit?”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes dilating at the thought.

“No what?” he asked. “Protocol isn’t what I’m looking for.” He didn’t want to be called sir or master. He did want his name on her perfect lips. Eventually he’d get them on his cock.

“No, Decklan,” she said, her voice still soft.

“Exhibition?” he asked.

She glanced nervously around the room. Most people seemed involved in their own play. Max watched from across the bar.

Decklan didn’t give a shit.

“It has been. In the past.”

He heard a but in there and raised an eyebrow.

“But I’m willing to try. With you.”

Her breath hitched and satisfaction soared through him. “Are you wearing underwear?”

A tiny shake of her head. Blood rushed out of his, all of it headed south.

“Then lift that skirt and lie down or say red and we can both head home. Separately.” Everything inside him stilled as he waited. The choice was hers. The power hers. If she walked away, he might not survive it. Another reason he hadn’t approached before now.

Eyes wide, her gaze never leaving his, she faced him. Her cheeks flushed a sexy shade of pink. And ever so slowly, she raised her skirt, walked the few steps closer, and thank God, lowered herself over his lap. She shifted, getting comfortable, wriggling against his rock-hard erection, and he groaned aloud.

He glanced down and faced every fantasy he had and then some. Her ass was round and pale, two beautiful globes waiting for his hand. He’d trained at this club, enjoyed it for a time, but had been tempted to leave it for a while now.

But her?

He was nowhere near ready to walk away. He smoothed his hand over one cheek, then the other, her skin butter soft and beckoning. She stiffened at first, but as he caressed her with one hand, she relaxed beneath his touch, and his cock perked up at her easy submission.

“Do you know why you’re in this position?” he asked, squeezing her cheek to make sure she was paying attention.