“Really now, Ms. Hawthorne?” he asked from his position on the other side.
“’Really now, Ms. Hawthorne?’” I mocked with my hand on my hips. I couldn’t help but grin. “Don’t you have a lunch to get to?”
Instead of speaking, he just jumped on the bed. I tried to run toward the door, but he grabbed ahold of my arm, pulling me back to the bed and pinning me under him.
“Why must you always fight me?” he asked.
“Because you like it,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything, pinning my hands above my head with one of his and kissing my neck as his other hand traveled down my chest and between my legs.
I was just waiting for the right time. I wanted to catch him off-guard. I wanted to tease, have him at my mercy, to control his pleasure. I wanted to play him the way he was currently playing my body.
“You’re coming to lunch,” he whispered, biting my neck.
“No.”
“Have it your way, then,” he growled.
He moved so quickly that I didn’t have time to blink before his belt was off and I was on my stomach. Tying it around my wrist, he attached the other end to the bedpost before grabbing my ass and kissing it.
“Damon, don’t—”
“Then wear the dress.”
“D—”
Before I could reply, his palm connected with my ass, sending shivers up and down my body. It hurt so good.
He didn’t stop there. He continued until I couldn’t handle it anymore.
“FUCK! DAMON…ah…” Rubbing my thighs together, I fought against his belt, trying to break free.
“There’s my girl,” he laughed, kissing both of my cheeks and even giving one of them a small bite. I felt the wetness slide down my thighs, my pussy throbbing with need. “Now, wear the dress.”
“Fuck you.”
SLAP!
“AH! Fuck!” he hit me so hard, I came, gasping.
“So soon, baby?” he teased.
“Go … screw yourself.”
He snickered. “I’d rather screw you—but not before you beg me to.”
He got off the bed, walking toward the bottle of champagne we had ordered with our breakfast. Lifting the bottle, he drank straight from it, watching me as I struggled and wiggled to get free, amused with himself. He reached in the ice bucket and grabbed a block of melting ice and placed it on the top of my back.
“Oh—” I shivered as it melted on my skin, the icy water slowly dripping down my spine. How could something so simple turn me on so fucking much? No matter how much I tried not to think of it, I couldn’t. The water dripped down the crack of my ass.
“Are you cold?” he questioned. I wasn’t sure if I was shivering from the situation or the ice anymore.
“Yes,” I answered, preferring the latter of my two choices.
“How about this,” he whispered, taking one of the scented candles from the bedside table.
“Damon—ahhh, fuck,” I gasped when the wax dripped onto my back and ass. There was no way to describe how it felt to go from one extreme to another. All my senses felt like they were being overloaded, and my pussy throbbed with need.