Page 47 of Ruthless Lord
“What did you come up with,wife?” I use the word like a cudgel. She doesn’t seem to let it bother her, though.
“It’s simple, actually. You’re going to hate it.”
“Tell me.”
Her smile gets bigger, like she’s in control here. I think about striding across the room, flattening the space between us, and taking her as my own. Those pretty, dark red lips. Her thick brown hair wrapped around my fist. Those pants and moans, all the darkness of her hate and her need, all of it breaking on my tongue and my fingers. Her taste can flood me. I can take her. It wouldn’t even be hard.
But I leash myself. I have to hold back. There’s a line that I won’t cross with her, even if I’m so fucking tempted every time we’re alone together.
She’s sin, and I’ve ruined myself enough as it is.
I won’t blacken my soul even more by giving in to my worst impulses.
But fuck, I want her.
It’s horrible, the aching need in my guts.
In my fucking slacks.
The thought of her writhing and moaning as my cock pounds into her from behind is enough to make my dick stiffen with electric want.
She holds up a finger. One perfectly manicured nail.
“My rule is simple. You can never touch me unless I explicitly ask you to.”
I step back, letting the words hang between us. Her smile tightens and her eyes wrinkle with amusement at my reaction.
The implication hits me like a thunderclap, and I realize I played myself right into her hands.
All of a sudden, she’s holding the power.
I can break my word. Destroy everything I hold dear about myself. I swore I’d follow the rule she gave me, and I define myself as a man of honor. Not a good man. A fucking monster, if I’m honest. But a man that does what he says he’ll do, no matter how hard it might be.
Or I can accept that now she’s in control.
Fucking hell.
“Are you sure about that, wife?” I ask, my voice low and charged with emotion. “Think hard about it.”
“I’ve been thinking for three days.” She’s showing teeth. She knows damn well the victory she just stole from me. “And that’s my rule. You can never, ever touch me without me explicitly asking.” She steps forward, coming closer. I’m forced to move back with a soft snarl. “That’s why I can sleep in your bed. That’s why I can move into your room. That’s why I can shower in your bathroom without ever worrying you’ll break down the doorand come ravish my wet, soapy, naked body.” She’s grinning savagely, fully aware of what she’s doing to me, still coming forward. I’m forced away and away until my back hits the dresser. A dozen little wounds and aches flare up, and I struggle to keep the pain from my face. “Think that’s doable,husband? Or are you just a big liar?”
I set my jaw. I stare at my clever, beautiful little wife. And I hate her, just a little bit, but also worship the fucking ground she walks on.
“You’ll break before I do,” I whisper, a dark promise.
Her eyes flash, and I swear she likes the challenge. “We’ll see about that.” She reaches out a hand. For a second, I think about letting her touch my cheek, catching her wrist, lightly biting a finger before dragging her against me and devouring her mouth with mine.
But I’d need an invitation first.
I pull away and slip back toward the door.
She laughs at my retreat, and fucking hell, I wish I never made this deal with her to begin with.
Though the spankingwasvery good.
“Good luck with unpacking all of this. I’ll be in my office.”
“No worries. I won’t need your help.”
