I step back into the kitchen. Mmasi is still sitting on the countertop, looking like a damn vision. She's the picture of composed. I, on the other hand, feel like I'm about to explode.
She meets my eyes, that damn infuriatingly cool, composed expression on her face. It's like she wasn't just writhing in my goddamn arms a minute ago. Goddamn her.
I cross the kitchen, stopping when I'm standing between her legs. My mind is racing, my body humming with tension. But I force myself to look calm, to mask the damn desire that's still burning inside me.
I want to grab her, to pull her against me again, to kiss her until she's gasping and panting and begging for more. But I keep myself in check, my hands clenched into hard fists at my sides. I'm trying to act like I'm not one wrong move away from losing control entirely.
She watches me, her eyes meeting mine. That cool, composed expression is still there, like she's not even affected by what just happened. It infuriates me and turns me on at the same damn time.
"You're driving me insane, you know that?"
My voice is low, rough from both anger and desire. I want to press her back on that counter, to get my hands on her again, to make good on the promise we were so damn close to fulfilling.
She tilts her head, her eyes never leaving mine. Her expression doesn't change, her voice still cool and even. "Am I?"
"Don't play games with me."
I take another step closer, closing the distance between us. Her legs are still spread, her skirt still riding up her thighs. It's all I can do to keep from touching her. Every instinct is screaming at me to forget the goddamn shirt, to throw caution to the wind, and take what I want.
She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small, infuriating smirk. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Damn this woman. She's driving me crazy. I'm standing here, one step away from breaking down and losing all sense of reason, and she's acting like she's not half-naked and practically begging for me to touch her.
"You know damn well what I'm talking about."
I take another step closer, the distance between us now almost nonexistent. She's so close, I can smell her, feel the heat from her skin. The air is crackling with tension, the space between us like a damn livewire.
"Do I?"
That goddamn smirk again. Like she's not aware of the way my body is reacting to her, like she can't see the way my hands are clenched into fists, the way my breathing is coming in short, ragged gasps, the way my eyes are dark with desire. She's deliberately riling me up, and she damn well knows it.
"Stop. Teasing."
My voice is a low, rough growl. I'm so damn close to losing my self-restraint, to saying to hell with it and pinning her against the counter. The desire is like wildfire, burning through me at a damn alarming rate. I can barely think straight, and she's just sitting there, so goddamn composed and infuriating.
She arches an eyebrow, like she's not even fazed by my tone. "What if I don't want to?"
Damn her. Her voice is like liquid silk, smooth and soft, and damn seductive. She's doing this on purpose, driving me crazier with every word. I'm so close to my breaking point, my control slipping away like sand through my fingers.
"Don't test me."
My voice is rough, edged with a warning. The last shreds of my restraint are starting to fray, and if she keeps pushing me, I can't damn well promise what'll happen. I'm hanging on by a thread, my body taut with tension, my mind clouded with need.
"Or what?"
Those two words are like a damn match to gasoline. Something snaps inside me, my control finally slipping. With a low growl, I reach out, grabbing her by the hips and hauling her closer. Her legs part around me, and she gasps softly as I pull her to the edge of the counter.
I'm standing between her legs now, so close that I can feel the heat from her body, the subtle shiver that runs through her when I touch her. Goddamn her, still teasing me, still trying to get under my skin. I swear she's enjoying this, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
"I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed." She says and tries to climb down the kitchen counter.
"No."
I move faster, my hands gripping her hips and holding her in place. She's not going anywhere, damn it. I'm not letting her leave me like this, not when I'm so worked up, I can barely think straight.
I lean closer, my grip tightening on her hips. "You're not going anywhere. Not yet."
Her face turns stoic. "Don't think I've forgotten about you walking into my house looking like some murderer."
I can feel my desire warring with anger, my body at war with itself. I want her, damn it, and her resistance is only fueling the damn fire inside me. But there's something else in me now, something that makes me want to kneel at her damn feet, to beg and plead for her.
I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening on her hips. "Please," I growl. "Don't do this to me. Don't leave me like this."
"And why should I?"
The question hits me like a bucket of ice water. I've always prided myself on being in control, on never showing weakness. But here I am, begging for her, and I can barely get the damn words out.
I take a shaky breath, my voice ragged as I finally manage to speak. "Because I'm going goddamn crazy. You're driving me insane, and I can't take it anymore. Please."
My pride, my damn ego, it's all out the damn window. I'm begging her like a damn fool, and I don't even care anymore. I just want her, need her, Goddamn her for doing this to me.
"I want you. Damn it, I want you so bad it hurts. Please, you're breaking me."
Her face is still stoic. "If you ever enter my house again looking the way you did today, forget about seeing me for a whole week."
The warning in her words is like a knife to the gut. A whole week? A week without her? I can feel the colour drain from my face. The thought of not being able to see her for that long is like a damn physical pain.
"You can't do that."
The words come out before I can stop myself. I sound like a damn child, pleading for her to change her mind.
"Try me."
I can feel my chest tighten, my heart pounding in my throat. She's not bluffing. She damn well means every word.
"Damn it, woman. That's not fair."
I growl, my grip on her hips tightening. I'm torn, angry and aroused, and desperate all at once. The thought of not seeing her for a week is like a damn physical agony.
"Oh, so you come in covered in blood and stain my kitchen. I struggled to wipe clean, and you dare tell me I'm not fair? What you did is that fair to me?"
I flinch at her words, a pang of guilt rippling through me. She's right, damn her. I came in here looking like a damn fool, a mess of blood and violence. And she had to clean up after me.
I take a shaky breath, my hands gentling on her hips. "Sorry."
The word tastes like damn poison in my mouth. I never apologize. But I do only to her.
"I didn't think..."
I swallow, guilt gnawing at me. I was so damn focused on seeing her that I didn't think about how I looked. Didn't think about how my messy bullshit might affect her. I damn well didn't think about how she would have to clean it all up.
"I'm sorry," I repeat, my voice softer this time. "I was careless."
Her eyes narrow, like she's still pissed at me and trying to decide if my apology is genuine. I don't blame her. I've been an ass. A damn selfish ass who didn't think about anyone but himself.
"It's not just the mess," she says, her voice level but firm. "You scared me, you damn idiot."
My chest tightens at her words, shame washing over me in a wave. Goddamn it, I've scared her. Me, a man who's supposed to be strong, fearless, a damn force to be reckoned with. And she's afraid. Of me.
"I never meant to scare you," I say, my voice rough with guilt. "I just... I wanted to see you. I needed you."
She regards me for a moment, her eyes searching my face. I know I look like a damn mess, my expression a mix of guilt and desperation. I'm on the damn edge, begging for her, and I can feel my heart racing.
"You're a fool," she finally says, her voice tinged with a hint of affectionate annoyance. "A goddamn fool who doesn't think. I thought the blood was yours. I got scared, thinking you got hurt. Your work alone already makes me so anxious. So don't ever give me a heart attack like you almost did today."
My heart lurches at her words. Goddamn it, I've forgotten for a moment how my work affects her. I'm so used to living in my world of violence and danger that I never even considered how it would make her feel.
"Damn it," I mutter, guilt gnawing at me. "I was so damn worried about seeing you, I didn't think about what you would think if you saw me like that. I'm really sorry. I was a complete idiot. Again."
"You're always an idiot," she says, but there's a hint of affection in her voice. I deserve the insult, and we both know it. She can see right through me, and I know damn well she's right.
I tighten my grip on her hips, pulling her closer yet again. "I'm your idiot," I say, my voice rough and possessive. "At least let me make it up to you. Please."
Her eyes darken, a spark of desire flaring in them. Damn it, I can see the effect I'm having on her. She's pissed at me, and she damn well has every right to be, but I know deep down she's still attracted to me.
She tilts her chin stubbornly. "And how exactly do you plan to make it up to me?"
I let out a low growl, her attitude making my blood burn. She's stubborn as hell, and goddamn, it only makes me want her more. I pull her closer yet again, my hands possessive as they dig into her hips.
"However the hell you want," I say, my voice dripping with desire and desperation. "Anything. Just name it."
She's still trying to act like my words don't affect her, but I can see the way her breath catches in her throat. She's just as damn turned on as I am, and it's taking all her self-restraint to keep a damn poker face.
She narrows her eyes, a challenge in her gaze. "Anything I want?"
"Anything," I growl, my voice a low, possessive rasp. I'm damn serious, and I know she can tell. I'll do whatever the hell she wants, whatever she needs, damn the consequences.
I tug her closer still, my hands gripping her hips with a possessive intensity. "Name it, and it's yours."
She lifts her chin, her eyes narrowing. I can see the way she's trying to maintain her tough exterior, but it's cracking, bit by damn bit. She's still pissed at me, but she's affected by my words. I can see it in the way her breath catches, in the way her body melts against me.
She takes a moment, her eyes raking over me, and then she finally speaks. "I want you to get on your knees."
My heart skips a beat at her words, my brain short-circuiting for a moment. Goddamn. She wants me on my knees. That simple, damn sentence makes something primal stir deep inside me.
I look at her, my eyes burning with desire and submission. "On my knees?" I echo, my voice a rough whisper.
She nods, her eyes gleaming with challenge and desire. "Yes, on your knees."
I let out a low, ragged growl. Goddamn my pride, my ego, and my goddamn stubbornness. It's all melting away at the thought of kneeling for her. Of submitting to her, damn it.
Slowly, I lower myself, dropping to my knees in front of her.
I'm on my knees, looking up at her. It's a damn humbling position, one that's completely at odds with what I'm used to. But damn it, I've never felt so alive, so completely at her mercy.
My hands grip her hips, my fingers digging into her skin. I'm kneeling before her like an goddamn supplicant, my eyes locked onto hers, waiting for her next command.
A smug smile curves her lips as she looks down at me, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. That damn smirk is like a goddamn knife to my pride, but I can't bring myself to care. I'm on my knees, looking up at her like a damn dog.
She reaches out, her hand moving to caress my face. Her touch is soft, gentle even, and it sends a jolt of desire straight to my core.
I can't help the way I lean into her touch, like a goddamn puppy seeking attention. It's damn humiliating, but the need to be close to her, to please her, is overwhelming.
"You look good like this," she murmurs, her voice a soft, sultry purr. "On your knees, looking up at me like a good boy."
A shiver runs down my spine at her words, the shame and desire mixing in a heady cocktail in my brain. Good boy. I'm a goddamn grown man, a ruthless gangster, and she's got me on my knees, calling me good boy.
I let out a low, ragged growl, my hands gripping her hips harder. "Damn it, woman."
She lets out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying her power over me. Her fingers continue to caress my face, tracing my jaw, my chin, my neck. I'm a goddamn mess right now, torn between the need to take control and the overwhelming urge to submit to her every damn whim.
"What's the matter? Not so tough when you're knelt down, huh?"
I grit my teeth, her question a sharp poke at my wounded pride. I'm used to being powerful, damn it, not on my knees, looking up at her like a goddamn obedient puppy.
Still, there's a part of me that wants nothing more than to surrender completely. "Shut up," I growl. "You're enjoying this."
Her eyes gleam with mischief, her grin widening. "Oh, I absolutely am," she teases, her hand moving to tangle in my hair. "Seeing you on your knees, submitting to me like a good boy? It's damn delicious."
I growl again, her words fanning the flames of both anger and desire. Her touch, the damn smirk on her face, it's all driving me damn near crazy. "I'm not a damn pet, you know."
Her laugh is soft and full of mockery. "You sure could have fooled me, all knelt down like that," she says, her fingers tightening in my hair, pulling my head back and forcing me to look up at her.
I bite back a groan, my body responding to the pain and the humiliation in a way I'm not damn well proud of. "Damn you."
She gives my hair a light tug, pulling my head even further back, exposing my neck. Her eyes rake over me, taking in the sight of me kneeling in front of her, completely at her mercy.
"You look so damn hot like this, you know that? So goddamn obedient, kneeling and waiting for my command. It's almost poetic, in a way."
I want to argue, to protest that I'm not some damn lap dog, but the words die in my throat as she pulls harder on my hair, making a sharp pain shoot through my scalp. I let out a low hiss, my body responding to her damn dominance in a way that's both infuriating and arousing.
"Damn you," I growl again, my voice coming out ragged and rough. "This isn't fair. I'm supposed to be the one in control."
She laughs again, her eyes dark and full of amusement. "And yet, here you are, on your knees, looking up at me like a damn puppy. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"
I grit my teeth, my pride and anger warring with my damn desire to submit to her every whim. "You're enjoying this way too damn much."
Her hand tightens in my hair again, pulling my head back even further. The pain is damn near excruciating, and yet, it's also sending a jolt of desire straight through me, right to my core. Goddamn it, I'm torn between the need to resist and the overwhelming urge to give in.
"Of course I am," she purrs, her voice low and sultry. "Having you on your knees like this is a damn dream come true."
I let out a rough, ragged breath, my body shuddering at her words. Damn it all, she knows exactly what she's doing to me, and she's loving every damn second of it.
"You have no idea how much I want to get up from this damn floor and show you who's really in charge," I growl, my voice strained with both frustration and desire. "Damn it, woman, you're driving me crazy."
She laughs, her hand still firmly in my hair, holding my head in place. "But you won't, will you? You won't get up from your knees, because you're mine right now, in this moment. And you'll do whatever I damn well say."
I grit my teeth again, my hands tightening on her hips. I'm struggling to hold on to control, to fight against the overwhelming urge to just give in to her completely. "I goddamn hate you, you know that?"
Her eyes gleam with amusement, like she's damn well aware of the hell she's putting me through. "No, you don't," she says, her voice full of arrogance and confidence. "You don't hate me. We both know that. You want me. You goddamn crave me."
I growl again, my body reacting to her damn words like a damn puppet on a string. I hate how damn right she is, how the truth of her words hits me right in the gut. "Damn you."
Her hand releases my hair, moving to cup my cheek instead. Her touch is softer now, gentler, and it's like a damn switch has been flipped inside me. I lean into her touch, my resistance weakening even further, my body betraying my damn sense of pride.
I let out a ragged breath, my voice coming out in a damn near whimper. "Goddamn it, I need you so goddamn bad."
"Of course you do," she says, her voice a low, seductive murmur. "You're so damn desperate. So hungry for me, for my attention, for my touch."
I can't help the way I lean into her, seeking more of her touch, more of her. Damn it, I'm like a starving man begging for scraps at her feet.
"Please," I whisper, my voice ragged and hungry. "Goddamn it, I'll do whatever you want. Just goddamn touch me."
Her fingers trace my jaw, her touch electric on my skin. "You'll do anything, huh? Anything at all?"
I nod, desperate and shameless. "Anything you goddamn well want, goddamn it. Anything at all. Just please, for the love of everything in this world, touch me. Please."
"Good boy."
That simple, damn sentence hits me like a punch to the gut. It's so goddamn patronizing, so damn humiliating, and yet I can't help the way the praise makes me shiver, the way it makes me want to damn well beg for more.
My voice is a damn ragged whisper as I respond, my pride and stubbornness damn near shattered into pieces. "God, please," I murmur. "Anything, damn it all. I'm yours. Just touch me. Please."
"Look how damn desperate you are," she purrs, her fingers trailing over my neck, sending goosebumps trailing up and down my skin. "On your knees like a damn puppy, begging me for my touch. You're so goddamn pathetic like this."
I let out a low, growling moan, my body shuddering at her words. It's like she's reading my damn mind, knowing exactly what buttons to press to make me fall apart at her feet.
"You're such a goddamn mess," she continues, her touch slowly moving downward, tracing over my chest, inch by agonizing inch. "So damn submissive, so damn desperate for my touch. And you don't even care how goddamn pathetic you look, do you? Down on your knees, begging me for attention. Like a dog."
I swallow hard, my body reacting to her damn words like a damn Pavlovian dog. I can feel my control slipping away, my resistance waning.
"You're mine," she says again, her voice a low, possessive whisper. "Completely and utterly mine. My good little boy, kneeling here, at my feet. Begging for my damn touch like your life depends on it."
Goddamn it all, the way she's talking to me, the way she's touching me. It's like she's got a goddamn leash on me, and she's yanking it tight, bringing me closer to the edge of sanity.
"I could do anything I damn well want with you like this," she continues, her hand moving lower, her fingers tracing over my stomach, slowly, tauntingly. "You'd do whatever I ask of you, without a goddamn second thought. You'd be a damn good little puppet, would you?"
I shiver at her words, my breath ragged and labored. She's right, goddamn it. I'd do anything she asks, anything at all. I'm hers, body and goddamn soul.
"You're so damn obedient, aren't you?" she murmurs, her hand moving lower still, slowly, tantalizingly. "So eager to please. It's like you were made for this, made for being on your knees, for me. For me to control, to use as I goddamn well please."
My chest is heaving, my body thrumming with desire and need. I'm so goddamn hungry for her, so desperate for her touch. "Goddamn you," I growl, my voice ragged and hoarse. "I... goddamn it, I want you. I want you so damn bad
She laughs softly, her hand pausing to rest low on my stomach, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin. It's a teasing, goddamn infuriating touch, like she's taunting me, driving me damn near insane.
"You're trembling," she says, her voice smooth and confident. "You're desperate for my touch, my attention. I can feel it in the way you shiver, the way you lean into me. You're mine, and you damn well know it."
"Damn it, yes," I growl, my words coming out harsh and ragged. "Yes, I'm desperate. Yes, I need your touch. Yes, I'm yours. Goddamn it, you've got me on my goddamn knees, begging for you. Just touch me, please. God, woman, I need you. I need you so damn bad, it's driving me insane."
She's quiet for a moment, her hand still resting on my stomach. I can feel her considering me, her eyes raking over my body, taking in the sight of me at her feet, desperate and begging. It's damn near excruciating, the way she's keeping me waiting, the way she's prolonging my suffering.
"You want my touch, huh?" she says finally, her voice soft and low. "You want me to touch you, to give you some damn relief?"
I nod desperately, my voice ragged and hoarse. "Yes, goddamn it. I want your damn touch, your attention. I'll do damn near anything for it. Just please, just goddamn touch me, woman. I need you so goddamn bad, I can't think straight."
I'm practically on the edge of damn begging, my pride and stubborn goddamn resolve shattered into goddamn pieces. I'm completely at her mercy, desperate for her touch, her attention, her anything.
She lets out a sultry chuckle. "Look at you, so desperate and goddamn pathetic. You're practically at my mercy, aren't you? On your damn knees, begging for me like a dog."
I can tell she's savoring the power she has over me, the way I'm powerless before her. And goddamn it, I want to get angrier, to snap and regain some sense of dignity, but I can't. I'm too far gone, drowning in my damn desire and need.
"You're a mess," she purrs, her hand moving again, sliding lower, her fingers tracing over the waistband of my pants. "Look at you. On your knees, begging for me to touch you. And I haven't even started yet."
My body arches into her touch, my heart racing in my chest. I'm so goddamn desperate, so damn hungry for her that it almost hurts. I can feel the heat building inside me, the need burning brighter and brighter with every damn second.
She leans down, her lips hovering just above mine, her hand still tracing gentle patterns on my skin. "And what if I don't want to touch you?"
I let out a low, ragged growl, my body trembling with desire and tension. "Goddamn it, woman," I hiss, my voice rough and harsh. "You can't leave me like this. You can't give me a goddamn taste of what I want, what I need, and then pull back."
"Why not?" she says softly, her lips still so, so close to mine. "What'll you do, huh? Beg some more? Beg me to touch you?"
I let out a rough, frustrated curse, my hands clenching into fists. "Damn it, yes. I'll beg. I'll beg like a damn dog, I'll do anything you damn well ask of me, just please, please, touch me. For the love of everything goddamn holy, I need you to touch me."
She laughs, a low, sultry sound that damn near makes me lose my damn mind. "You look so goddamn adorable like this, you know that? On your knees, begging for my touch like a damn puppy. So desperate, so hungry."
The words are like goddamn gasoline on the flames of my desire, making me burn brighter and hotter with every damn second that passes. I can feel my need growing bigger and stronger, the tension inside me building to a damn near breaking point.
"Please," I beg, my voice ragged and rough. "Please, woman. Just one damn touch, damn it. I need it, I need you, I need your touch on me. Please, I can't take this damn tease anymore."
She laughs softly, so damn smug. "You're so goddamn cute when you're like this, you know that? So damn pathetic and desperate. And the best part is, I'm the only one who can give you what you want. I'm the only one who can ease your damn need."
She takes a moment to consider my plea, her eyes raking over me, taking in my desperate, pathetic state. She seems to revel in my suffering, in my damn near helpless state. And then, finally, finally, she speaks. "Fine," she says, her voice sultry and smooth. "I'll touch you."
I let out a ragged, guttural moan, my body responding immediately to her words. Goddamn, it's like a goddamn drug, the way her words hit me, the way they make my body ache with need.
With that, her hand begins to move, slowly and tantalizingly, tracing over my skin. Her touch is light and teasing, like she knows exactly how to drive me crazy. My body responds immediately, arching into her touch, my breathing ragged and labored.
And damn it all, it's not enough. I want more, I need more.
