Page 46 of Claim

She writhed, pressing her pelvis against my hand, urging me to let her fall over the cliff. A tear spilled from the side of one eye, and I leaned forward, licking it away.

“I hate you for making me cry.”

“I love your every tear. Now answer the question.”

She shook her head. “N-no. I waited. I fucking don’t know why, but I waited.”

“Good girl. Was that so hard to admit?”

Covering her mouth with mine, I sent her into the oblivion of release. Her nails scored my forearms, and muted moans escaped her lips. She tasted of cinnamon candy and her own natural sexy essence.

I ached to fuck her, bend her over the chaise in the corner from us, and drive into her, destroy that sweet tight cunt of hers. But this wasn’t the time or place. I’d get my chance soon, and then I planned to gorge until I satisfied every one of my depraved cravings.

A better man would preserve some of her innocence, stop everything now, and keep this dynamic exclusively in the club.

Fuck. She was such a delicious temptation.

And I knew I wasn’t even a good man, much less a better one.

She broke our kiss and looked up at me as if reading my thoughts. “I’m not weak or fragile, Damon.”

“No, you aren’t. However, I will test how strong you truly are.”

“When did I agree to anything outside of the club?”

“What happened right now would say otherwise.”

“I won’t let you control me. I’ve had enough people telling me what to do and pushing me around my whole life. If the fear of my father’s wrath hasn’t forced me to fall in line, don’t think you can sway me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

I knew all about Bryant Morelli’s temper and how he delved out discipline toward his wife and children. He shared more similarities to my own father than I cared to think about. The only difference was mine no longer walked the earth, having died a few months before my graduation from college.

His death had freed my siblings and me from a raging alcoholic father, the trap of our family business, and the legacy of carrying on the Pierce name. The day we sold Pierce Holdings was one of the best damn days of my life. A fuck you to the man who believed that a fist was the best way to keep everyone in line, his social standing trumped anything, including his wife’s cancer, and that the next deal was more important than his two sons and daughter.

“The very first night we met, I told you the submissive holds the true power.”

“I’m no—”

Cutting her off, I said, “With me, you are. We’ve established this. Accept it.”

“I won’t become my mother.”

“Is that what you fear? Becoming your mother? There is a huge difference in the dynamics between your parents and us. You want a firm hand to give you the freedom you only pretend to have with your wild antics.”

“It’s better than being a conformist like my sisters Eva and Daphne. This way, my parents have written me off for the most part and leave me alone.”

“And it leaves you the loneliest person in the middle of the most exclusive party in town.”

Her inquisitive stare blazed up at me. “Why do you care so much?”

“What makes you think I care?”

“You’ve obviously analyzed me in great detail.” She shook her head. “And you’ve gone from telling me to run away from you as fast as possible to claiming me as your sub. Now you’re here with this possessive you-belong-to-me shit.”

“That makes you deduce that I care?”

“Evade answering all you want. I know you care.” She pushed me back, moved past me, and tugged the zipper of her jumpsuit up. “Do you think I don’t see it?”

This conversation needed to stop right now.

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