Page 57 of Gilded Locks
“Ah! Ash…”
He pulled back only to climb over her, capturing her other hand and pinning her arms overhead. “Too hard?”
“A little.” The way he’d been doing it had felt soft and delicate. “But I…”
“You like it a little rough?”
She nodded, confused by the pull of two polar opposite sensations. Her mind wanted gentleness, but her skin needed the ache. She wanted soft kisses with teeth, gentle petting with scraping nails. “I can’t get a handle on my emotions.”
“You don’t need to make sense of them right now. You only need to feel.” He kissed her tenderly. “Who do you belong to, printessa?”
Something turned in her stomach and her soft expression fell.
“Don’t be scared. Just answer the question. Who owns your body?”
Me! She wanted to scream. But she understood this was her reality. Her penalty and price for their protection. “You do.”
“I’ve been very gentle with you, haven’t I? Kind and patient…”
She swallowed, wondering how stupid she must be to have gotten into this position with him, naked, beneath him, with her arms pinned over her head. Now, he was going to collect his dues. “Yes.”
“You’re thinking too much.” Shifting her wrists into the hold of one hand, his finger traced the space between her brows, barely touching. “Stone makes you shut down. Hunter makes you fight. But me? I make you think.”
He was right. He broke down her walls and found her soft underbelly. She was most vulnerable with Ash, which meant he was the most dangerous despite feeling the safest. “I don’t know what you want.”
“I want to play with you. Nothing too intense. I’d planned to leave you be, but…” He glanced at her breast. “You’re quite the temptation.”
He released her hands and she automatically started to lower her arms.
“Nyet.” He pressed them back down. “I want you still. Mine to play with and explore. Understand?”
He traced a finger slowly over the swell of her breast and her breathing turned labored. “Y-yes.”
“Good, printessa.” He stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor.
Ripples of muscle stacked neatly along his trim torso and ropes of thick sinew corded his tattooed arms. He bent over her, teasing her lips with his, so their breath mingled.
“You worry too much. You don’t trust us. I know it’s too soon. But in time, you’ll see. We’re nothing you need to fear.”
His mouth teased featherlight kisses down her throat, so tender and hypnotizing. He touched her in all the right places, removing the strain in her muscles and replacing her anxiety with yearning.
“Kiss me,” he whispered, and she eagerly gave in to his command.
His tongue skated delicately over hers.
“Nyet.” His thumb dragged slowly over her lips. “When you kiss me, you kiss me like you mean it.” His hand closed loosely around her throat, not applying pressure, but implying how easily he could snap her neck if he wanted to. “Like your life depends on it, printessa.”
This time, when his lips grazed hers, she angled up and sealed her mouth to his. He groaned in satisfaction and deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking over hers with possessive claim as he stated without words how attracted he was to her.
When they broke apart, they were both panting. “That was much better, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” she confessed.
“I like intensity. Whether we’re cuddling or fucking, I expect you to be uninhibited by shame or pride or whatever else is filling that head of yours. I want everything raw and unfiltered between us. Honest. Understand?”
She nodded.
“Good.” He glanced down at her chest. “You don’t fear me. Why do you think that is?”
