"I don't . . . know what to say."
He continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I'd never physically hurt you, at least, not that I could help. That's not what this is about," he reiterated. He dropped one of her hands and seized her wrist in a grip she knew she couldn't break unless he allowed it. "You intoxicate me. Your scent drives me crazy. I feel a driving need to take everything good and precious about you and lock you in my bedroom and fuck you blind. I want to take everything that's pure and wholesome that you hide behind your gothic mask and force it out so I can touch it. Control it. I want to control you."
"You're scaring me."
He reared back from the table, a look of unease crossing his features but he didn't release her. "Maybe I need to shut up."
"Maybe you should," she said in total seriousness.
Silence pulsed between them, the soft hum of restaurant noise in the background. They sat like that for a few moments, his thumb on her wrist pressing against a pulse point she knew was racing uncontrollably. Finally, he spoke. "Say it again."
Her tongue raced across dry lips. "Say what?"
"Tell me you only sleep with me," he demanded.
"I only sleep with you," she repeated quietly.
He nodded as his features hardened. "And now say you're mine."
Angie knew what he was asking. He was asking her to agree with everything he'd just laid out about their ongoing relationship. How different could it be from what she already had with him? If he didn't want to hurt her, and she believed him on that, totally, then how different would going to bed with him be? She didn't think it would be any different, this was just some kind of mind game that was tripping him up. He was already supremely, completely dominant in bed and she allowed it, because she loved it. There wasn't a thing about going to bed with him that she didn't love already. So this just had to be some kind of a formality for him. At least she told herself as much. "I'm yours," she said in a rush before she could chicken out. Heat saturated her senses when she heard her own words.
A look of total satisfaction crossed his harsh features. "That's it then."
He paid the bill and walked her out to the car with a new sense of urgency, his hand at the small of her back.
****
Damian led Angie inside his house, the same fantasy that always fucked with his brain screaming at him now. It was a simple thing, really. They'd had sex more times than he could count, in more positions than he could remember, but he'd always held off on the one thing that made him salivate with lust.
He wanted to hold her prisoner underneath him and take her from behind. He wanted her on all fours.
He'd always wanted her on all fours, and the only reason he'd held off was because of their disparate sizes and her seeming innocence where sex was concerned.
It was obvious she hadn't been a virgin. That wasn't it. But she sometimes wore an expression of disconcertedness. Some of the things he did to her seemed to catch her off guard. Her eyes would widen, she'd wear a shaken-look, and he couldn't fail to see her body tremble.
He'd gone easy on her, at least in his own mind.
But now they'd gotten some things ironed out between them, and the new knowledge that she was exclusively his, had in fact readily agreed to that, was now sending a primal beat through his bloodstream that he couldn't ignore.
He needed to nail her to the bed, flip her over, pull her to her knees, and plunge inside.
He needed that like he needed air to breathe.
As he clamped his fingers around her wrist, her demeanor was a bit more submissive and silent than usual as he led her to his bedroom. It should have calmed him down, but it didn't. It had just the opposite effect. He felt his abdominal muscles lace with tension, the skin on his face stretched tautly across his cheekbones, and his erection was engorged to such a degree that he felt as if he might erupt from the first stroke of his fingers across her clit.
The thought sent another rush of blood to his cock. Yeah, fuck yeah, he needed her clit. His nostrils flared as he pushed the door to the bedroom shut and maneuvered her against it. His brain was about to explode with anticipated pleasure. He had one thought banging around in his head. He didn't have to be so fucking careful anymore. It would be okay if she knew how insane he was about her. She wasn't going to run.
His hands slid to her t-shirt and he pulled it over her head in a rapid movement and tossed it aside. He latched onto the pale contours of her breasts with hot eyes and watched the rapid inhalations of the breath coming in and out of her lungs as she pressed back against the door. At the sight of the pale white skin above her bra, his lust inched up a notch. "Mine," he hissed out uncontrollably, his finger running over the pale swells. "New rules. Let's give them a try," he didn't wait for an answer. He sank his fist into the center of her bra and pulled it down until her nipples popped up over the material.