He lets his hand hover above his shoulder, building dread in my stomach. But the moment I look into the shelter of his eyes, I swallow my doubts. I trust him to know my limits.
My breath leaves me right before his palm slams down. I wheeze with shock, lifting on my toes as white-hot pain blazes across my skin. Then he whaps me again, and again, every strike hitting harder, deeper into muscle and tissue, jarring my bones.
The hand collaring my throat doesn’t tighten or loosen. He’s fully aware of his grip and the force of his hits against my backside, measuring every twitch, balancing pleasure with pain. Always in control.
Except his breathing. His chest heaves with the exertion of his lungs, rotating the air with the sounds of his hunger.
Spanking, choking, dominating—all of it makes him hard as a rock, and I feed on it, on his arousal, the rasp of his grunts, and the heat of his powerful hand colliding against my ass.
My nipples tighten. My pussy clenches, and I ache for a deeper connection. I need his confident, unwavering eye contact.
Fisting the sheets, I strain my neck against the fingers around my throat and peer back at him.
His gaze lifts, and his hand comes down, softly, tenderly, stroking my burning flesh and caressing the hurt. He holds me in the lull of his eyes for an aching moment before straightening and looking down at my fiery red bottom.
I miss his grip on my neck instantly and touch the skin there as I angle my head to follow his movements.
He steps behind me, the crisp fabric of his pants brushing the backs of my thighs. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lip as he stares at the exposed apex of my legs.
Mouth parted, chin angled down, and shoulders curled forward, he unlatches his belt. His fingers move quickly over the zipper, sliding it down. Then he shoves a hand into his boxers.
He doesn’t look at me when he pulls himself out. Doesn’t test my wetness as he pushes the broad head against my pussy. Doesn’t hold back as he shoves roughly, ruthlessly inside me.
My mouth hangs open in a soundless gasp, and I claw at the bedding, clenching and writhing around him.
He thrusts without mercy, hammering against the back of my pussy vigorously, angrily, while hissing past his teeth. Every drive rubs the scratchy fabric of his shirt against my raw backside, reigniting the burn from his spanking.
His hand twists in my hair, wrapping it around his wrist and sparking pain through the roots. His other hand presses against my tailbone, restraining my movements as he spears me repeatedly.
I stiffen against the force of his wrath, both hating and loving it. Desire smothers the pain, but I’m conflicted, confused about his feelings. Does he still love me? Is he going to leave me? Tears well up, sliding along my nose and wetting the sheets beneath my cheek.
The first time we had sex was like this. A hate-fuck, scathing with hurt and devastation. I feel all that hostility now in the relentless slam of his hips. So much pain and torment. He’s fucking me too hard, too rough, like he’s trying to brand himself deep inside me.
I can handle that, welcome it even, but not while he’s behind me. Not when he’s avoiding my eyes.
Reaching back, I shove him off and flip over.
He stumbles, shocked by my boldness. “What the fuck?”
His black tie hangs loosely around his neck, and I grab it, pulling him onto the bed with me as I scoot toward the headboard.
“What are you doing?” He scowls, following for a second before sitting back on his heels with his hard cock jutting from the open fly of his pants.
“I want to see your eyes, Trace.” I straddle his lap and wrap a hand around his length, positioning him.
“Then take a good hard look.” He grabs my waist and kicks his hips in a vicious thrust.
I lift on my knees, preventing him from ramming all the way in.
“You think you have any control here?” He grips my throat, glaring at me.
“Never. Control is your job.” I push my neck against his hand and kiss his lips. “I’m just making a request. Slow and easy? Please?”
He regards me, searching my eyes with unnerving intuition. God knows what he’s thinking, and my stomach flutters with nerves.
With a steady inhale, he releases my throat and lightly caresses my cheek, then my lips. In the next breath, his mouth replaces his fingers, and he kisses me slowly, clutching my hips and sinking me down on his cock, inch by agonizing inch.
I gulp down my moans as he makes love to me in a way I didn’t think he was capable. His hands roam everywhere, soft and warm on my skin, every brush of his tongue and roll of his hips bleeding with passion. It’s a slow-burn of sliding lips, clenching fingers, and grinding bodies, sparking with friction and sensuousness.
I don’t want it to end. I’m terrified of what follows. So when he lifts me and tosses me on my back, I panic.
I reach for him, but he’s already crawling up my body, coming for me with heat dancing in his eyes.
“Stretch your arms toward the headboard.” He kneels between my legs, watching me obey with an intimidating scowl on his face. “Good. Now hold onto the rungs and don’t let go.”
Spread out and naked beneath the power of his suit-clad body, I grip the bars and hold my breath.
He captures my knees and wrenches them wider. Then his hands move up my thighs and skim over my stomach. His lips join in, ghosting across my breasts, his tongue swirling and teeth catching and biting my nipples.
I arch and tremble, tightening my fingers around the rungs. “Trace, please…”
His mouth moves to my neck, nibbling and nuzzling, as he delves a hand between my legs.
My yelp is breathless, every nerve-ending in my body on fire and charging toward release.
Bending over me, he fingers my pussy with curling strokes. I lift my head, reaching, and our mouths collide. He kisses me with total domination, and I surrender, panting, screaming, and falling headlong into a mindless orgasm.
He continues to work his fingers inside me, holding my gaze as I catch my breath.
“You’re the song I’d never heard.” He touches his lips to my breastbone. “The universe that didn’t exist. You’re every little thing that used to be empty.”
My chest swells, lifting with a deep intake of air. “I love you so much.”
His expression darkens, and he grips his erection, holding it against my opening. “Did you say those words to him when he was inside you tonight?”
My heart slams into my throat, and I clamp my legs around his hips. “Trace…”
He pushes my knees away and slides off the bed, tucking his swollen length into his pants.
“What are you doing?” I crawl after him, my stomach tumbling with dread.
He didn’t come.
He fixes his tie and slides on the suit jacket, yanking and straightening his clothes without looking at me. Then he grabs his keys from the bureau.
My blood runs cold. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” He steps into the hall and vanishes around the corner without a backward glance.