Page 44 of Prince of Control
Baron
I walk up to the bedroom after studying in the dungeon. It’s soundproof down there, and I needed a place to concentrate.
I needed to be away from my looping thoughts about what went down at Whisper’s End. Wrestling between my anger and guilt.
I had the heads’ up from Leo that Denis the fucking menace had asked her to meet him, and I have a tracker in her phone, her purse, and every pair of shoes she has, so it was easy to find her.
Still, I wanted to kill that little mudak for even breathing the same air space as my wife. I hope he’s only here to find out if our marriage is real. But the part of me that has to go through and plan the very worst possible scenario foresees Brash kidnapping Lara and ransoming her life in exchange for Adrian’s full future cooperation with the Rostovs.
I can’t let that happen.
On top of it all, I need to make sure I’ve covered every base for Friday’s party. The Titan House wants to shut us down this year, which means they’ll call the cops or the fire marshall or the Chancellor with noise complaints or over-occupancy alerts or whatever they can think of to shut our party down prematurely.
In the bedroom, I stop and stare at Lara’s open suitcase, which she still hasn’t unpacked. I ordered the dresser for her, and it should be delivered tomorrow. Somehow I doubt it will make this room feel any more like it belongs to her.
She’s uncomfortable.
It was probably wrong of me to insist she share my bed.
I can’t bring myself to make any other arrangements, though.
Last night, I tasted her. She came riding my fingers. I would’ve come too if I hadn’t fucked things up.
The door opens, and Lara steps in. She doesn’t ignore me, as she did this morning. She just stands there, looking at me. There’s an uncertainty to her stance that activates the dom in me.
“Come here.” I open my arms.
I give it a less than twenty percent chance she’ll accept the invitation, but to my shock, she walks forward.
I meet her halfway, wrapping her up in my arms and dropping my face into her hair. It smells like her butterscotch shampoo, which makes my dick chubby remembering I was the one who washed it.
“Let me kiss you,” I murmur. I know we should talk, but I can’t think of what to say. I can’t explain why she needs to stay away from Denis, and I’m not going to apologize for doing what I had to do.
All I know how to do is touch her. That’s what I’m good at. After last night, it’s what I live and breathe for.
I celebrate my blessings when she lifts her face. I cup her cheek in one hand and lower my lips to hers, my other arm wrapped firmly around her back. The first kiss is soft. Exploratory. My lips moving across hers lightly.
I sense surrender in her. I’m guessing she’s tired of fighting me. Probably a little scared. She needs reassurance, and she’s turning to me for it, even though I’m the enemy. It’s classic Stockholm Syndrome, but I’ll work with whatever I can get.
I deepen the kiss, slanting my mouth over hers and prying her lips open with my tongue. She’s in another skirt today–this one is a soft cotton that molds to her hips. I slide my hand around the curve of her ass and squeeze.
She melts into me, molecule by molecule. Her hands brush my chest and slide up to my shoulders.
I tug the hem of her skirt up her thigh until I touch skin, then slide my hand beneath it to cup her ass. She’s wearing panties that floss her ass, leaving the entire cheek exposed for me to stroke. I knead it as my tongue explores her mouth. When my middle finger traces the thin ribbon of fabric that plunges between her cheeks, she moans.
I forget to go slow.
I hoist her up, legs around my waist, and carry her the few steps to the bed where I drop her. “You were a bad fucking wife today, malyshka.” I reach behind my back with one hand and yank my shirt off over my head.
I probably should dial back the dominance considering it was that kind of talk that completely shut her down last night, but the switch has been flipped. Gentle mode is off. Dark mode activated.
And I know how well her body responds to it.
She looks up at me with those big blue eyes, and I want to fucking ravish her. I reach beneath her skirt and yank her panties off in one rough motion.
“Spread those legs for me, Lara. I’m going to eat that pussy.” I don’t wait for her to obey. I push her knees wide, forcing her to fall back on her forearms.
Her pussy is groomed with a neat little triangle of silky dark hair. I rub it with my thumb as I lick into her. She gasps, jerking at the wet contact.
