Page 54 of Dmitri

“Daelyn,” he says a little more sternly. “We can’t work on it if I don’t know what’s up.”

Work on it?

Work. On. It?

“I’m not a psych project.” Kicking him back, I scramble off the bed and my legs give out the second my feet touch the floor.

“Jesus. Come here.” Dmitri lifts me up before I have the sense to stop him and he carries me back to the bed, setting me on his lap. “I never said you were a fucking psych project. But as your Dom, I need to know what’s happening in your mind so I can make sure you stay in a safe head space. And if you end up in a sub drop, I need to help you with that too.”

Sub drop, shmub drop. I’m so out of here. “Let me go.”

He drops his arms, giving me freedom, and the instant he does this, I feel even worse. It’s like Dmitri giving me what I want makes me even more upset.

Because it’s not what Ineed.

Now I feel confused and vulnerable and empty and angry. Instead of running out of the club, like I should for both our sakes, I slap him. Full palm, straight across his motherfucking face.

My hand stings from the contact and a red handprint blooms across his cheek. Dmitri’s eyes flash with a very dangerous expression that makes me smack him again. He groans and doesn’t stop staring at me.

This man is the king of staring contests, and it pisses me off. So, I slap him again.

“More,” he growls at me.

I slap him a fourth time, but it’s nowhere near as hard as the others had been.

He still doesn’t budge. “Again.”

Is he serious?

A sheen of sweat blossoms across his forehead. His pupils have blown wide.

Oh, right, I almost forgot that pain gets him off. I should punish him for making me feel so vulnerable by leaving, so he’ll have to get off by himself.

I should. I really, really,reallyshould.

But I can’t seem to move. It’s like his glacial gaze has me frozen in place. I look at his face, the breadth of his shoulders, the way his chest heaves with each controlled breath he takes, the stiffness of his posture, and how his suit pants are tented from his hard dick. God, I want him badly. Every time my mind says to be careful with this man, my body wants to be reckless.

I take a step back. Then another. And another.

The more distance I put between us, the sicker I feel.

Geez, maybe Ishouldbe someone’s psych project because I’m definitely worth studying at this rate. Something in me may be fundamentally broken.

And I’m so sick of doing what I’m told. I’m tired of following orders. I want something for myself. I want something just for me.

Fuck it. I’m in this to win. If only for tonight.

“Do you still want me?” I ask with enough audacity to makemy inner demons perk up.

“Yes,” Dmitri growls.

“How bad?”

“Bad enough to tear the world apart to get inside you, Firefly.”

He won’t have to go as far as destroying the world, but I can’t say the same for the Monarch Club. “You want me that fucking bad? Come get me.”

I bolt out the door.

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