Page 81 of The Assassin's Captive
I press my hips into hers, letting her feel exactly how much she’s losing. “There’s no winning against me, Serena. Not here.”
Color rises in her cheeks, and she arches against me, testing the strength of my grip. I don’t give her an inch. My free hand slides down, slow and possessive, over the shirt she stole from me, finding bare skin underneath. She gasps when my palm cups her thigh, spreading it wider under my hold.
“You’re mine now,” I remind her, leaning close so my breath ghosts over her ear. “And tonight, I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”
Her breath comes faster, her chest lifting against mine, the thin cotton of my shirt doing nothing to hide how hard her nipples have gone. I drag my mouth down her neck, biting just hard enough to make her gasp, just hard enough to mark her. My hand moves higher, gripping her jaw and tilting her head where I want it.
“Open your legs for me.” The order leaves no room for argument.
She hesitates only long enough to test me, then obeys. I settle between her thighs, pushing the hem of the shirt higher until I see every inch of her. My fingers trace up the inside of her leg slowly, and she trembles under the touch, eyes locked on mine, waiting to see how far I’ll go.
“You tease me, you make me beg,” I murmur against her mouth, my hand cupping her heat, fingers spreading her open. She whimpers, her hips lifting into my touch, needy already. “But when I say please, it’s because I’ve decided to. When you say it, it’s because I make you.”
She moans as I slide one finger into her, my other hand keeping her wrists pinned above her head.
I keep my hand locked around her wrists, forcing them higher against the couch cushion until she can’t move at all. My body stays fully dressed, my weight pressing her down, reminding her whose control she’s under. My free hand works between her thighs, pumping slowly, dragging wet sounds from her that make my cock strain against my slacks.
“You’re already soaked for me,” I growl against her ear, my teeth grazing her skin. “And I haven’t even given you half of what I plan to.”
Her hips roll, desperate for more, but I hold her still, my pace maddeningly slow. “Please,” she breathes, the word shaky, unsteady.
“That’s better,” I rasp, curling my finger inside her while my thumb circles her clit firmly. “Say it again. Louder.”
“Please, Lorenzo.”
I claim her mouth with a hard kiss, swallowing her moan as I add another finger, stretching her while keeping my own body untouched, untouched but hard as stone. My slacks dig painfully into me, but I don’t move to ease it. This is hers to endure first, mine to take later.
When I pull my mouth from hers, my breath is rough against her cheek. “I own this sweet pussy. Every sound you make is for me. Understand?”
Her answer is a breathless whimper, her body arching beneath me, straining against the grip I have on her wrists. I keep my focus between her thighs, my fingers working her harder, deeper, my thumb locked on her clit in ruthless circles. Her legs start to shake, her hips jerking helplessly despite my weight pinning her down.
“That’s it,” I murmur, my lips at her ear, my voice low and filthy. “Come for me. Right here, under me, while I fuck you with my fingers. Let me feel how much you need me.”
She gasps my name, her head tipping back, mouth open as the orgasm tears through her. I don’t stop until she’s thrashing under my hand, her slick moisture coating my fingers, her thighs trembling from the force of it. Only then do I ease up, pulling my fingers free and bringing them to her lips. “Taste yourself,” I order in a pure command.
She obeys, sucking my fingers into her mouth, her eyes glazed with heat.
“Good girl,” I say, my voice rough now, gravel scraping every word. I finally release her wrists and stand, tugging my belt free with a low rasp of leather through loops, my gaze fixed on her. “Now you’re going to watch while I get undressed—and you’re not moving until I say so.”
She stays sprawled on the couch, chest rising and falling, thighs still parted where I left them. Her lips glisten as she licks the last trace of herself from my fingers, her eyes locked on me like I’m the only thing keeping her breathing. I drag my jacket off first, throwing it to the floor without care. My tie follows, yanked loose and dropped beside it.
“You like watching me, don’t you?” My voice is low, taunting as I unbutton my shirt one snap at a time, slow enough to make her squirm. She nods but doesn’t speak, knowing better than to answer without permission.
“Words, Serena.”
“Yes,” she whispers, her thighs pressing together for friction.
I smirk, shrugging out of the shirt, baring muscle and ink to the firelight. My belt is next, unbuckled with a metallic clink that makes her eyes darken. I drag it free, coil it in my hand, and let it drop across the arm of the couch where she can see it.
“On your knees,” I order, my tone edged with command that leaves no space for disobedience.
She slides from the couch slowly, never breaking eye contact as she kneels on the rug at my feet. Her hands twitch like she wants to reach for me, but she knows better. I rest one palm on the back of her head, fingers threading into her damp hair, holding her in place.
“Good,” I murmur, letting the praise roll over her in a dark rasp. “Stay right there while I finish.”
I pop the button on my slacks, dragging the zipper down while I keep her pinned in front of me, making her watch. The fabric loosens, giving me a fraction of relief, but I don’t take it further yet. My free hand brushes along her jaw, tilting her head back so she has no choice but to look up at me, wide-eyed and waiting.
“This is where you belong,” I tell her, voice thick with possession. “On your knees for me. Ready to do anything I tell you.”
