Page 21 of Marking Micah

“No. I wanted it.” It was far too late not to admit it.

He cupped her cheek again, smiling at her, his dimple flashing. “I wanted it, too. I’ve wanted you for… too long, maybe.”

There was another sharp surge between her thighs, but even stronger was the rush of warmth in her chest.

“Do you mean it?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He ran his thumb up to the corner of her eye, where she hadn’t realized a tear had begun to fall. “I do.”

She smiled up at him.

“Do we need to stop?” he asked. “I didn’t think things would get so… raw. Not the first night here. And I’m having a hard time reading you right now.”

She shook her head. “No, Sir. This is exactly what I meant when I said I might need that softness. And youarereading me, or you wouldn’t have kissed me.” She couldn’t help but smile. “This isn’t the time to be humble, Sir.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Okay, then. But we’re really going to start now.”

“Yes, please,” was all she said, happiness and desire like some sort of wild tonic.

She shivered when he drew his hand down over her shoulder and placed his flat palm in the center of her chest, between her aching breasts, pressing down just firmly enough that she felt she was completely under his control. A jagged bolt of need shot through her, and she felt that loosening in her mind as she sank a little inside, into that lovely, dreamy space she’d missed so much.

She was his already.

He kept one hand on her as he turned to pick up an implement from the table next to where she was lying. When he turned back to her, she saw he was holding a small neuro wheel, the sharp chrome teeth glinting in the dim light, and she nearly breathed a sigh of relief. It was a small tool, and it could be lovelyand tickly and sensual, or it could be as wicked as any sadist wanted it to be. And simply knowing she had no control over which way it would go caused a gentle heat to surge through her body, took her deeper into subspace.

No control.

For the first time in ages, it felt like a profound relief.

He kept his gaze on hers as he slowly drew it down the center of her stomach, and she shivered. He ran his hand over the trail of tingling pleasure and pain he’d left with the wheel, then ran the sharp little spikes up the inside of one arm.

She let out a small giggle.

“Does it tickle, darlin’? I know how to take care of that.”

He did it again, this time letting the evil teeth of the wheel dig into her skin a bit, and she sucked in a breath. It hurt a little, but it felt so good.

He had a small smile on his face as he dragged the spiked wheel down the front of her thigh, keeping his gaze locked on hers, and his smile widened when she moaned.

He brought it back to her stomach once more, and this time he pressed down hard, but she was already filling up with endorphins, so even though sheknewit hurt, she didn’t really feel a sense of pain. Instead, her body filled up with pleasure, and she wanted to spread her thighs. Needed to.

“Ah-ah! Hold still for me, sunshine.”

He moved his hand down to one hip and held her down, watching her face carefully. She gazed up at him, losing herself a little in the depths of his eyes. They were dark and gleaming in the low lighting. Intense. Captivating. Owning her somehow.

She realized she had aligned her breath to his again, and when she did, she focused on that, did it more intentionally. And she knew he understood what she was doing when he murmured, “Good girl.”

When he lifted his hand, she felt centered again, and when he turned away for a moment, she shivered with anticipation. But when he turned back to her, his hands were empty.

He moved in close, then closer, until his cheek was right next to hers. He said quietly, “This is gonna hurt, lovely girl.”

She waited while he straightened slowly, her heart pounding in anticipation that was sharp and sweet, then he drew one finger over her cheek, down her throat, pausing at the hollow and stroking her skin there. Then he continued down and stopped between her breasts. With that one finger, he pressed, and she was shocked at how much it hurt, how with one finger he controlled her.

“Pressure point play,” he said, his tone low. “So simple. So effective.”

She swallowed hard. That single point really hurt, the pain biting deep. But as he watched her face, she focused on his eyes, on the way they seemed to take everything in. Her expression. Her every breath. The need to be his.

He pressed harder, and she bit her lip.

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