Page 58 of The Rules
The shirt falls away, abandoned like an oath he intends to honor. He luxuriates in each second, acutely aware of how his measured unveiling unravels her composure.
"That's one way to put on a show," she remarks, clinging to her playful facade though her voice has thinned, betraying her uncertainty.
He laughs, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest,
rich with unspoken intent. "And I'm just starting."
With calculated precision, he adjusts his stance, sliding one knee between her legs. The position is perfect - exactly as he planned.
A sharp gasp escapes her lips, making his lips curl with satisfaction.
"Something wrong?" he asks, voice low with dark amusement.
Blondie's breath catches as her thighs press against his muscular leg, the pressure landing exactly where he intended. He studies every micro reaction - the flex of her bound fingers, the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip hard enough to leave marks. The sight of her fighting for control is intoxicating.
"You're an ass," she manages, voice strained with frustration.
Ben chuckles, the sound deliberately menacing as he leans down, hovering his lips just above her throat without making contact. "You'll be calling me something else soon enough."
He feels her shudder but notes with approval that she doesn't pull away. His breath ghosts over her skin as he maintains the torturous almost-contact.
Leaning in closer, he brushes his lips against her ear and whispers, "Ben."
Her whole body goes rigid for just a moment - exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Her sharp intake of breath tells him she wasn't prepared for that level of intimacy.
"Just in case you feel like screaming it," he taunts, his voice a silken promise.
She responds with only a sharp, breathless exhale. Perfect. That's his cue to move lower.
He traces his lips along her throat, each touch deliberately light and fleeting. A maddening rhythm designed to unravel her. The warmth of his breath ghosts across her skin as he maps every sensitive spot with maddening restraint.
Blondie's composure fractures beneath his careful attention. He feels her squirm against him, patience clearly evaporating as need takes over. A breathless moan wraps around her words as she huffs:
"You talk too much."
The callback makes his lips curl against her skin. She's throwing his own words back at him - clever girl. He grins, letting his teeth graze her collarbone as he murmurs:
"That so?"
His hands drift up her sides, fingers find the delicate straps and ease them down her shoulders, like unwrapping something he’s waited far too long to touch. The fabric whispers as it falls, pooling at her waist. Her sharp intake of breath when he exposes her breasts makes his own control waver.
A groan tears from his throat at the sight of her. He drags his thumbs over her nipples, watching intently as they harden under his touch. The way her back arches, pressing into his hands, sends heat coursing through him.
"Ben," she breathes—a confession more than a name.
His name in her mouth—breathless, ragged—strikes like lightning through his veins. Benjamin watches her lips form those three letters, a surrender that hits harder than any touch. The sound ignites something ancient and savage within him, breaking whatever chains of restraint still held. He captures one peaked nipple between his lips, drawing it into his mouth.
His tongue circles the sensitive flesh deliberately, learning what makes her breath hitch, before he applies just enough pressure with histeeth to make her body jolt against his. Her sharp response feeds the darkness coiling inside him, demanding more.
"You wanted me to shut up, sweetheart," he says against her skin, satisfaction clear in his voice. "I'm just following orders."
He feels the moment she starts to yield, her body softening beneath his ministrations. But he's not ready to let her fall apart. Not yet.
Benjamin sinks to his knees before her, a predator in supplication yet still lethal in his devotion. The world beyond her dissolves into meaningless shadow. His focus narrows with savage intensity, consuming every detail of her—the slight tremor in her thighs, the imperceptible hitch in her breathing as he raises his gaze to meet hers through the veil of his dark lashes, watching recognition of her power and peril flicker across her face.
"Ben—" His name falls from her lips, soft and uncertain.
"Shh." The command is velvet-wrapped steel, brooking no argument. He watches satisfaction curl through him as she obeys, falling silent save for her quickened breathing.
