“Yes.” He nodded. “You’d make a great sub. Train you up a bit and you’d make a Dom very happy.”
I turned and gaped at him.
“What? It’s true,” he said as he slid his pants off.
I knew he was teasing, trying to get a rise out of me. “I already told you, it doesn’t excite me.”
He moved to stand in front of me, his hands around my back, pulling me to him. “Have you ever tried?”
“I don’t like physical pain that’s meant to hurt. And are you telling me you’re a closet Dom?”
He leaned in to nip my neck. “No, but I do love to dominate, take what I want. You especially. You make it so easy, like you’re begging for it. I may not have a playroom and toys, but I will tell you what to do because I own your body.”
I stepped back, my skin heating. It was true; he did own me, more than he knew. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“I can. Tell me, Delilah. Say it.”
I looked up at him from underneath my eyelashes. I knew what he wanted. “Yours,” I whispered as I bit my bottom lip and looked at his chest.
His fingers made their way to my jaw and tilted my head up so we could meet eye-to-eye. “What was that?”
“I’m fucking yours!” I growled out in frustration and embarrassment.
“That’s right. Mine.”
He wasted no time at all in showing me how much he owned me.
“Feel that?” he asked as he stepped toward me.
I cocked my eyebrow at him. “Feel what? What are you talking about?”
He smirked at me and taunted me in a maddening, delicious way. “You don’t feel it?”
“I can feel you looking at me like a piece of meat, if that’s what you’re talking about?” I was growing tired of the distance between us. I stepped closer and he stepped to the side.
“No, you don’t. You have to feel it first.”
I groaned in frustration. “Forget it. I thought you were going to make today worth my while, not play stupid games with me. I’m sick of this shit!”
I was ready to grab my stuff and head back out the door. B.O.B. was always willing to help me out. Though he probably needed dusting off from the months of non-usage.
“I’m talking about that knot in your stomach. The wetness dripping down your thigh. Your * clenching and pulsing, ready, all just from the way I’m looking at you. If you can’t feel it, then you’re more fucked up than I thought.” He stalked toward me with that damn smirk plastered in place.
My anger was expanding with every second that he kept being such a prick. “Of course I feel those things. I’ve been feeling them all damn day long. So, what’s the point? You already know you do that to me.”
“That’s right, you do feel it. That’s me owning your * and your ass. Don’t you forget it. Andrew doesn’t do that to you. I know he doesn’t. You get wet for me and nobody else.” He got so close I thought for sure he would take me, but he kept enough distance to keep the moisture building and threatening to slide down my thighs.
“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?” I said.
“I’m a sick bastard because I see what I do to you? I’m not blind. Just because I can smell your arousal, and hear your heart beat fly when I’m this close to you, does not make me sick.” He leaned in even closer so I could feel his humid breath on the side of my throat. “It’s all about desire, baby. You want me, and I want you to want me. Quit fucking talking to Andrew, and I’ll quit making you wait for your release.” He slipped away from me.
Was he leaving the room? What the hell was going on?
I almost began panicking. I knew this was more than jealousy and sex. But somehow he always found a way to confuse me right when I thought I had control again.
“Fine. You don’t want me, I’ll call Andrew. I’m sure he’d more than love to take advantage of the wet conditions you caused.” I said it so flippantly I was shocked he believed me.