Page 47 of Surrender to Me
The word comes out breathless: “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Her eyebrows furrow together. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, Sir,” I prompt.
She sucks in a shallow little breath. “I…”
“Say it for me, Allie.”
For a moment, she looks away. Then she faces me again.
Chapter Fourteen
Stryker
“Yes.” She swallows. “Yes, Sir.”
Hearing the honorific on her pretty lips warms me like a good, aged whiskey. She may never have called another man that in the bedroom, but it rolls off her tongue like she was born to say it.
“That’s my good girl.”
I straighten, letting my gaze travel slowly down her body. Taking inventory. Planning my sensual path.
Her nipples are already tight peaks, begging for attention. Her thighs are pressed together, but I can see the flush spreading across her skin, can smell the sweet musk of her arousal.
“Spread your legs.”
The command makes her tense, but she obeys, letting her thighs fall open to reveal the glistening pink flesh between them.
“Wider.”
She whimpers but complies, opening herself completely to my view.
“Perfect.” I trail one finger up her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she wants me to touch her most. “Look how wet you are already, and I’ve barely touched you.”
Her hips lift slightly, seeking more contact, but I pull my hand away.
“Patience, sweetheart. We have all night, and I plan to use every minute of it.”
I shed my clothes efficiently, watching her watch me. Her eyes darken when I reveal my chest, go wide when I push down my sweats and free my cock that’s already hard and aching for her.
But I don’t give her what she wants. Not yet.
Instead, I kneel beside her on the bed, close enough that she can feel my body heat but not close enough to touch.
“You want to know what I’m thinking about?” I wrap my hand around my length, stroking slowly while she watches with hungry eyes. “I’m thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you come tonight. With my tongue. My fingers. My cock.”
Her grip tightens on the headboard, and I see her fighting not to reach for me.
“I’m thinking about how you taste. How you feel wrapped around me. How you sound when you fall apart.”
I increase the rhythm of my strokes, letting her see everything, denying her nothing except the ability to participate.
“Please,” she breathes. “Let me...”
I still my movements. “Let you what?”
