He smiled his triumph against her mouth and slanted his head for another kiss. She met his intent, her own head tipping to the side, her lips pressing against his, no longer resistant but hungry.
He fed her with his hands and his mouth and he kept doing it as she continued to demand it, insatiable, magnificent.
After a time, his hand was in her panties, finger pressed deep and swirling, her mouth against his, breaths sharp and sweet against his lips. She was so deep in her need she was unable to concentrate on kissing him or bear the further sensation of his tongue in her mouth. Her hand was clenched in his hair, her other arm wrapped tight around his back.
“Lucien!” she gasped urgently and he saw it on her face, he smelled it, he knew she was right there.
He withdrew his hand.
“No!” she cried, her hand going to his, fingers wrapping around his wrist.
Her cry sliced through him like a blade. He had been incorrect in what he’d told her the morning before. Even as tortured as her cry was, he suspected this was far more difficult on him than it was on her.
However, he’d chosen his path and he had to continue his efforts at her taming. She had no way of knowing but he knew the reward at the end would be worth the battle.
“Will you mind me?” he queried, his voice was harsh, not with anger but with regret.
Her hazy eyes struggled to focus on his face. “Lucien.”
“Will you mind me?”
He watched the haze clear, his words penetrating, incredulity flooding her face, quickly chased by anger.
“I f**king hate you,” she hissed but even as she did, her h*ps sought his, her body agitated, struggling with her desire.
Lucien sighed impatiently. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“You’re damn right it’s a no!” she snapped and her body wrenched unsuccessfully against his hold.
After this failure, she let out an enraged, strangled scream.
“Leah, you can end this now,” he told her.
“Go to hell!” she flashed.
“Do you want my mouth on you?” he asked.
“Go to hell!” she repeated.
“Do you want me inside you?”
She froze and shrieked, “Go to hell!”
He threw a thigh over her legs and captured her moving body against his. With a hand in her hair, he tucked her face in his neck.
“You’re very stubborn, pet,” he murmured into the hair at the top of her head.
Her body gave a mighty flex then went limp.
She grew silent. He held her closer.
After long moments, he said softly, “I’ll be leaving soon.”
She made no reply.
“While I’m gone, if you touch yourself, Leah, I’ll know and I’ll have to deal with that too.”
He could hear the pace of her heart increase but her body tensed only briefly before she subdued her reaction.
“Do you understand me?” he pushed.
She remained silent.
“Leah, I asked, do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she gritted between her teeth.
“I’ll be home at ten. We’re going out tonight. I want you ready.”
She didn’t speak.
“Leah, when I talk to you, you acknowledge what I say.”
“I’ll be ready,” she bit out.
“I want you wearing the black dress.”
She made an angry noise but whispered, “I’ll be wearing the black dress.”
His hand moved from her head to her jaw and with his thumb under her chin, he tilted her face up to receive his soft kiss.
Then he left her in bed and went to shower.
After he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, while he was reaching for a towel, in the sudden silence, he heard it.
His head shot up and cocked to the side.
Quietly, likely muffled in her pillow, he heard her sobs.
Good Christ. He’d broken her.
He’d f**king broken her.
He’d taken a huge step closer to her taming.
He’d expected to feel elation at this moment.
Instead, his eyes met his reflection in the mirror and he growled a low, slow, agonized, “Fuck.”
* * * * *
That night when he arrived home promptly at ten, he opened the door from the garage to the kitchen and found her there, waiting for him in the kitchen.
Her hair was swept back from her face to tumble in a mass of curls down her exposed back. She wore no jewels because she didn’t have any.
She didn’t need them.
The dress was spectacular, elegant and enticing. The spike-heeled, aubergine satin, strappy sandals were delicate, sexy and significantly lengthened her already tall frame, making her striking and, he suspected, to any other man but Lucien, even intimidating. Her makeup was smoky and dramatic, heightening the mystery behind her stunning but expressionless face.
Her eyes caught his and there was no flash, no dancing, they were completely blank.
“Hello, darling, how was your day?” she asked as if she was a robot and this was a prerecorded message set to play at appropriately programmed times.
Suddenly angry, he stopped five feet from her and commanded, “Come here, Leah.”
Without hesitation she moved to him.
His body tensed at her uncharacteristic acquiescence.
“Put your arms around me,” he went on.
She did as he demanded but her eyes remained at his throat.
“Look at me, pet.”
She immediately tipped her head back and caught his eyes.
Trying to read her mood, Lucien sought patience, wrapped an arm around her and cupped her jaw with his other hand.
“You’re angry with me,” he murmured and she shook her head.
“No, darling, why would you think that?”
His patience slipped. “Leah, stop it,” he ordered.
Her head tilted to the side in an unnatural movement. “Stop what?”
His eyes narrowed as her intent came clear. “So, this is your game now?”
“My game?” she asked with what sounded like genuine confusion.
He watched her carefully empty face. Then he decided, so be it.
He could work with this.
In fact, he had a feeling he’d enjoy it.
“I need to change,” he informed her and she made to move away but his arm tightened and he said, “No.”
She stopped and regarded him.
“Kiss me before I go upstairs.”
Without delay she got up on her toes, pressed against him and touched her parted lips to his.
Then she pulled away and asked, as if she sincerely cared about his answer, “Was that okay?”
He thought she’d have trouble with that.