Page 44 of The Rules
He goes completely still beneath her touch as she lets her lips brush against the warm skin of his lower abdomen. His muscles are rigid, taut with tension. She presses an open-mouthed kiss just above his waistband, savoring the sharp exhale that escapes him.
His hands tighten around the armrests. The sight sends a thrill through her - the mighty Benjamin Sinclair, struggling to maintain his precious control.
"You don't need to," she breathes against his skin, her voice soft and taunting. The words are barely a whisper, but she feels the impact ripple through him.
His control shatters like glass striking marble. His thighs become iron beneath her exploring palms, abdominal musclesrippling into tight ridges against her parted lips. Katherine shifts higher between his spread legs, deliberately pressing her breasts against the rigid outline of his desire. The unmistakable heat of him burns through the fabric, branding her skin with his need.
Benjamin inhales sharply through his nose, his legendary restraint hanging by a thread. She kisses his stomach again, dragging her lips downward with deliberate slowness. Though he remains still, she feels his desperate need to move, to touch, to take control.
His cock twitches against her where it's trapped between her breasts, and she can't help but smile at his reaction.
Her voice is velvet, devastating. "Let me."
And for the first time, Benjamin Sinclair stops fighting—
And lets himself fall.
Raw power courses beneath Katherine's skin as she watches his composure fracture, each sinew drawn taut beneath her calculated touch. His rigid control bleeds through every line of his body.
Her fingers trace sacred geometries across the carved planes of his abdomen, drinking in his measured gasps - desperate inhalations that betray the war raging beneath his skin.
Every involuntary shudder beneath her wandering touch reveals another crack in his fortress of control, and the knowledge of her dominance over him sets her blood singing with liquid fire.
His rigid length burns against the soft swell of her breasts. She lets her hands wander lower, ghosting over the steel of his thighs, trailing electricity along the cut of his hips.
He forces out a controlled exhale, but Katherine catches the telltale quiver threading through the sound.
She angles her head, positioning her parted lips a whisper above his fevered flesh. Her words dance across his skin like phantom caresses:
"Are you always this...restrained?"
The question drips with calculated provocation, a deliberate strike at the foundations of his control. She craves the sound of his surrender, yearns to watch that perfect discipline shatter.
She catches the flicker in his gaze at her challenge, but triumph twists into something sharper—a live current of tension as his expression shifts, revealing hunger honed into focus behind those dark eyes.
"Do you always talk this much?" he asks, voice low and tight, edged with frustration he doesn't bother to hide.
She doesn’t dignify it with a reply.
Just lifts her gaze, slow and sharp, and rolls her eyes—a silent, blistering fuck youdelivered with perfect control.
Then she leans in.
Claims him with a slow, deliberate kiss at his root, savoring the harsh sound that tears from his throat—not surrender, not yet, but a crack in his armor that sends sparks dancing across her nerve endings.
His response ripples through his powerful frame, muscles coiling beneath her palms. His control clings to him like wet silk—elegant, suffocating, seconds from tearing. Every minute tell - the stutter in his lungs, the white-knuckled grip on leather - speaks volumes in his silence: his need runs deeper than pride will ever let him voice.
Her tongue traces up his length with deliberate slowness, savoring the way his muscles tense beneath her touch.
His control fascinates her - the forced steadiness of his breathing.
She circles his crown with merciless precision, tasting the salt-sweet confession his body makes despite his silence.
Each subtle pulse and twitch of his flesh speaks volumes.
She envelops him in wet heat, relishing how his fingers bite into leather with barely contained desperation. Her movements remain achingly deliberate as she acclimates to his girth, muscles flexing as she draws him deeper into the velvet confines of her mouth.
His control finally shatters with a sound so raw it ignites her blood. That broken groan awakens something feral within her depths, her pulse hammering violently against her skin. Nails carve half-moons into his corded thighs as she claims more of him, maintaining that excruciating, deliberate rhythm designed to dismantle him piece by piece.
