Page 23 of The Commander

“You don’t have to. I can get free now.” Her arms tied in back, she couldn’t brush his hands away from her ankles and her thighs as he rubbed at the pretty lines the rope left behind.

The sight made him purr with delight.

She attempted to resist, muscles tensing to kick, taking a breath like she was getting ready to jump into an icy lake. Quickly, he stopped her on the table, holding her there with one hand and cupping her damp center with the other. He didn’t move a single finger.

Wanted to. Fuck,he wanted to. But not yet.

“You don’t like my hand here, do you Kitten? Don’t like my hand on your mound? What did I hear it called, apussy? Yes? You humans have such interesting words and such interesting bodies.” He squeezed.

She made a noise of shock. New color washed over her skin, making the freckle dots stand out. “Don’t. You said you were letting me go.”

“We aren’t on that part yet. Is it my touch that is frightening to you? Or are you a ripe, unplucked cherry? Don’t think I am not seeing how ripe this pussy of yours is. You are plump and swollen here. Are you aroused, my dear? You are wet, but you don’t want to be, not for a monster like me. I understand. I do.”

“I’m not.” The color of her face deepened, almost as red as her hair. She lied. They both knew she lied.

“You are. This is your nature. There is something in your blood—more than usual. You are very, very special. That means there is no shame that I arouse you.”

Her mouth twisted, keeping back the words she wanted to say. It looked like Kitten didn’t want another spanking. Too bad. With the ropes out of the way, Bastian would love to deliver one.

He drew his hands over her skin as she mewled like the kitten she was, over her thighs, opening his palms to touch as much as he could, like the greedy son-of-a-bitch he was, a not-so-subtle claim on what’s mine. Resisting the impulse to squeeze her, to part her legs wide, to taste, caused avaricious growls to rise in his chest.

He wanted this girl. Innocence and inexperience flavored her fear, a hot perfection.

It called him to her like bait, invited him to take, drink, claim.

She bucked, refusing him. In response, he stilled her with his hand at her throat, squeezing, letting her know he could take her last breath. “Stop. No, pet. No. Remember. Obedience. I said to be still. I will not say it again. You will hold still. Do youunderstand me? Nod your head. Good. Good girl. We will try again. When I put my hand here, you do not kick or fight.”

He cupped her again, moving his hand back and forth without parting the labia, a soft grind to stir her up, showing her how wet she was when his hand came away soaked.

Pupils blown open so wide he couldn’t see the iris; she met his gaze. His scent and a connection she didn’t understand infected her like a drug.

He saw all the welcome signs. Her nipples hard, tightened points in the middle of puffy areolas, and her pussy swollen and wet, blossoming, waiting to be fucked, longing to be mated.

And he saw her trying to fight it.

He wouldn’t let her escape the truth. Much too amusing to make her face it.

“I like it when you look at me. That’s right. Take me in. I can smell you, girl. I can see you. I know what is happening to you, that little flutter in your belly and tingle in your pelvis. I know your nipples hurt, and that pussy is clenching on empty, your clit throbbing with a need for pressure. I know my hands on you feel good. And I know you hate it. Is that true? Answer me. Quickly.”

“Yes. All true. Hate it. Hate you. Just kill me. Let me go. Stop this.”

He smiled. “No. Not going to kill you. But didn’t I say I’d let you go? Good, I’m glad to see we are on the same page. I’m going to undo the ropes on your arms and bring them to your front. It might hurt. So, let’s go slow.”

CHAPTER 7 - BASTIAN

He highly enjoyed watching her delicious anxiety creep over her face whenever he brought his blade into her view. Not ideal for meticulous work, he wanted this edge so that he could enjoy her wide eyed expression and inhale more of her delectable fear scent.

Her concentration on everything he did crackled between them, a static energy raising the fine hairs on both her arms. It added to the building need in his own center—an uncompromising pressure started by the ingestion of her blood.

Biting her lip, she fought her response to his nearness with endearing fortitude. Not that it was going to do her any good. He was certain now that she was born to succumb to him. He’d leave her no choice in the matter, anyway.

A touch of his blade cut the ropes. She could move after the first few coils on her legs loosened, but he made her stay in his arms, skin to skin. He protected her flesh while cutting the bindings. He could be gentle. “The red hats were rough with you, cruel, I know. They are such louts. I know your shoulders hurt. Your head? From that blow you took?”

He ran his fingers over the back of her skull, through the soft threads of her hair. She flinched away when he touched the bump.

“Please don’t.”

“I have something for that. And you’re exhausted. Hungry. Hurting.” Holding her tension filled body, he knew she wanted him to stop touching her. Too bad she wasn’t going to get what she wanted.

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