Page 119 of Dirty Husband
My inhibitions are gone. I'm not sure if it's the gin or the night or the look in Shep's eyes. But I don't care.
I only care about getting what's mine.
Giving him what's his.
"Bad girl." His voice drips with approval. "Teasing me."
"You don't like it?" My voice hitches. It's some tone I've never heard before. Some tone I need.
His eyes roam my body slowly. They start at my shoulders, work their way down my chest, stomach, hips, legs.
All the way to my bare feet, then back up. He stops at my sex. Then my breasts.
"You want me to see what's mine?" he asks.
"What's yours?"
"Your body." His voice gets firmer. "It's mine."
"Here."
"Yes. Here." He shifts back into character. Harder. More demanding. "Your body is mine and I'm going to do whatever I want with it."
It should terrify me. Instead, it makes me ache.
"What do you want me to do, princess? Do you want to come on my hand? My face? My cock?" He moves closer. Until he's close enough to place his hand on my cheek.
His fingertips skim my chin. Then they dip lower. Over my neck, along my collarbones, down my breast.
"You want me to come inside you? Or maybe here." He runs his finger over my nipple. "On your perfect tits?"
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, to what?"
"Everything. All of it." My eyes find his. "Whatever you're willing to give me."
His pupils dilate. His touch gets harder. Hard enough to hurt in the best possible way.
He rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Then he's drawing slow circles with his thumb. Again and again. Harder and harder.
Until I have to close my eyes.
Until I have to groan.
He slips his other hand into my hair. Cups the back of my head. It's more gentle than I expect. Loving even.
I blink my eyes open. Try to find some meaning in his expression. Some clue to what he's thinking. What he wants. Who he really is—
I don't see the boy I loved. Or the man I hated. Or even something in between.
Instead, I see the wild animal, contained in his tailored suit, waiting to break free.
He hasn't been naked with me. He hasn't had the space to toss me on the bed, pin my knees to the sheets, dive between my legs.
Is that what he wants? Does he want to make me come? Or does he want to use me like I'm some toy that exists only for his pleasure?
The thought shouldn't make me ache, but it does. I want to be his plaything.
