Page 37 of Wanted
“I bought the pants,” she pointed out. “You have no idea how major a no-no that was.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I do. You got mad about it. I liked that. Made me proud as hell to watch you march back into the store and get the two things most likely to piss off your ex-dom. You probably got them for that very reason.” He took another bite and then wiped his fingers on his napkin. “Yeah, I liked that a lot.”
A slow flush of warmth filtered through her, quickening her heart and tightening all the strings now tangling in her stomach. Unlike the strings that liked to make her sick, these were the good kind. She pressed her legs a little tighter together as the warmth flittered down through the slit of her sex, bringing with it a caress of moisture like a gentle fingertip.
Picking up his glass, he took a drink, finishing off the last of his water. “Anna,” he commanded as he set his glass down on the table. “Get the bottle of wine from the fridge, please.”
The command went down her spine into her legs, which were already tensing to obey. It was a trick, a test, and she knew it. Especially so close onto the heels of this particular conversation.
He’d said please. The argument could be made that she lived here, and really either one of them could have asked the other to get up and get the wine. But up until now, Marcus had never asked her to get anything unless he was rewarding her for something, because he knew how very much she liked to take his orders. How much she ached to be allowed to do it.
She wanted to do it now, ached to obey to the letter of his command. Because she liked him and it was no hardship at all for her to serve him in any way he wanted. In every way, if only he’d want her.
He’d never ask for that, though. She knew just by the way he now watched her, his dark eyes challenging her to take his very obvious bait. Because for all that he would test her, gently pushing for her to break the barbed-wire conditioning Ethen had wrapped her in, he wouldn’t deliberately trap her. He was a better man than that. He was the best kind of dom, even if he wasn’t hers.
She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “That’s mean.”
He cocked his head. “How so?”
“You know I want to.”
“True.”
“How is it wrong to do something when I want to do it?”
“Would it be so wrong to tell me to get up and get it myself?” he countered.
She could have laughed. God, yes. That was wrong on every level. It went against everything she was. Worse, it went against those warming, thigh-tensing, wishful-thinking twitches inside her that whispered tempting thoughts like, if he was willing to ask her to do little things of service—bring him his shoes, fold his laundry, fetch his wine—then someday he might ask her to do other things, like rub his shoulders, help him dress, wash his back in the shower. From there, it was a mouth-wateringly short fall from grace to commands like, kneel down and open your mouth, or bend over the back of the couch, Anna. All spoken in that soft, commanding tone that said he’d make whatever he asked her to do feel more than good.
That tickle of moisture wasn’t just a fingertip now, it was the lash of his tongue, sweeping up through her folds until her clit positively throbbed with wanting.
Her throat tightened, making her sound almost breathless as she said, “Get your own damn wine, Marcus.”
Lightning didn’t strike her dead on the spot. Who knew?
The corners of his mouth curling, he pushed his chair back, but he didn’t get up right away. Instead, his chair creaked as he shifted closer, reaching for her with a slow hand. The caress of his fingers as he combed up the back of her scalp to close his fist in her hair, drawing her head back and forcing her gaze to lock on his sent tingles racing straight to her nipples. Her pussy fluttered, spasms of pleasure so intense as to almost be orgasmic.
He smiled at her gently, his fist in her hair anything but. “Swear at me again, darling. I promise I won’t just bust your ass, I’ll plug it with increasingly larger butt plugs until I find the one that makes you scream.”
Her belly flinched with the intensity of the fluttering that seized her pussy. “Is that our next progress goal?” she heard herself whisper.
His dark eyes heated. His fingers in her hair, tightened holding onto her for a full minute before, almost reluctantly, he let her go.
Standing, he walked into the kitchen and got them both some wine.
* * *
Marcus
He ought to be having a cold shower, not a hot one, but there was no killing his erection tonight. Not after that exchange.
There was no going peacefully to sleep either. He’d lain in bed, the silence in the baby monitor on his bedside table telling him without doubt she wasn’t taking advantage of his usual nighttime command: Masturbate if you want to.
She never took advantage of that. If she touched herself even once, not so much as a whisper of sound betrayed her.
He wasn’t that dedicated.
From the moment he gave up on sleep and went into his private bathroom, Marcus knew his cock was going to be in his hand and he wasn’t stopping, not until he’d expended every last ounce of cum that had his balls drawn up so tight it hurt.
