It doesn’t make sense.

How could anyone care about, much less want to be with, a guy like me? Unwilling to dwell on the whys, especially with my girlfriend—girlfriend?—a slow trickle of warmth expands behind my ribs, making me stand taller just to accommodate it.

Girlfriend.

Yeah.

I bring my eyes to hers and cup her jaw. “I trust you.”

With a slow nod, she presses her cheek into my hold. Her eyes slide closed. I stare in awe of her beauty, the dark silken strands of her hair that play against her skin, framing the face of an angel.

She trails her fingers from my hand that’s at her cheek to my wrist and continues to my forearm in a slow drag. My heart speeds, and the whisper of panic pricks at the back of my neck. Before I can pull away from her touch, she drops her hand and opens her eyes, almost as if she sensed the threatening anxiety. As much as I need her to submit to my control, I miss her hand.

I force myself to hold her eyes even. She flashes a quick, reassuring smile, then steps back, putting distance between us. I bolt my feet to the floor to keep from chasing her down.

She turns, puts a knee on the bed, and crawls toward the middle. Once there, she drops to her back and takes a shaky breath. She doesn’t speak, but lies quietly, peaceful and beyond any beauty I’ve ever seen. I’m mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breasts as she breathes, lulling me into hypnosis. I drag my gaze along the downy skin of her feminine belly. The gentle thump of her pulse calls for me to savor, touch, and feast on the delicate skin.

Watching her there, eyes closed, breath steady, completely submitting to me, I have to put my hands on her for no other reason than to convince myself she’s real.

I sit at the edge of the bed, my gaze tethered to her. My weight shifts the mattress enough to alert her to my presence, but she doesn’t move. Fucking beautiful. I never knew how badly I needed this, needed her, until right now.

I flex my fists, wanting so badly to ravage her, force myself on her, tie her up, and make her scream. My urge to protect her wars against the images, pushing them back and locking them away.

She deserves a better man, one who can stare at her lying topless without fighting off a million different visions of debasement. What would I do to be that man? Tackle my issues, work on freeing myself of them? I can do that. I think.

With a deep breath, I refocus on her. A gothic halo of black hair is splayed around her face, and cherry-red lips part with the strength of her breathing. A pale pink flush colors her neck. Her legs shift, rubbing together like she’s putting out a fire between them.

Fuck, I haven’t even touched her, and she’s turned on. Submitting to me, lying in offering like this, she likes it.

Infused with a new kind of power, I brave a touch and reach out to trace the circle of her belly button. A whispered gasp of pleasure falls from her lips. I run my fingertip around and around in teasing circles; her skin so soft it feels as if I’m caressing air.

Her hips lift from the bed, searching for more contact.

I pull back my hand. “No.”

A defeated sigh pours from her lips, and she relaxes back to the bed.

“That’s good.” I return my fingers to her skin, this time at the underside of her breasts to reward her obedience. “You like me touching you.”

“Yes.” Her one word shakes with impatience and tension, cranking up my arousal.

Taking a deep breath and trying to stay in the moment, I move my finger, eating up her sweet flesh inch by inch until I’m between her breasts. Entranced, I trace around them in circles, one before the other. She responds to even the most innocent touch, and her chest rises and falls faster. I bite back a smug grin. The power is intoxicating.

Freeing.

Addicting.

Moving from the side of her breast, I drag my finger to her nipple and circle there, just as I did with her belly button. Her back arches off the bed, and she groans with such need and so wantonly that my dick presses painfully against my zipper.

A few more passes and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and groans. I inch closer, leaning over her so that my mouth is just a breath away from hers.

“Give it to me.” I drag my piercing along the seam of her mouth and a tiny gasp releases her lip. So fucking hot. “It’s mine.” I nip at her lip that’s now a deeper shade of red from her biting it. “Let me explore you.”

Her body convulses in a shiver that throws off more sexual energy than anything I’ve ever experienced. “Please.”

I drop my lips to hers and groan into her welcoming mouth. Fuck, I love when she begs. The voice in my head says I’m sick for enjoying her weakness, but I ignore it. With the heavy weight of her breast in my hand, I slide my tongue into her mouth. The honeyed taste of her pushes me deeper, searching for more. I suck her tongue, nip at her lips, and take everything I can. Her head tilts to accommodate my pillage, and I take everything she offers with gluttonous satisfaction.

The thunderous crack of my heart behind my ribs rockets adrenaline through my veins. Everything about this is new, and my mind races to keep up. I pull my torso over hers at an angle, resting my weight on my elbow while my free hand memorizes the feel of her curves. I push my hand lower, from the dip of her belly to the flare of her hips.

A whimper rolls from her throat. I pull back and notice she’s white-knuckling the comforter.

“Open your eyes.”

She does and I have to hold back my reaction at seeing the war waging behind them. What’s she thinking?

“Talk to me.”

“I want to touch you.”

I check her hands again, still gripped tight to the bed cover. “Yeah? Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracks.

I’m rock hard with power. Knowing that I’m torturing her in some way feels so good it makes me light-headed. Her wanting to touch me so badly that it’s causing her discomfort is turning me on and making me forget. But her hurting with a need so deep that she’d deny herself the relief in order to please me? She’s giving me ultimate supremacy, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want to give her everything.

My head spins with the weight of it all. I beat back the confusion and give myself permission to feel, to live in the moment and suck all the good I can from it before I lose it.

Pushing myself up, I throw a leg over her tiny body, straddling her at the hips. Her eyes flare. Towering over her, she looks so small, helpless, and absolutely stunning.

I reach back and tug my shirt over my head, tossing it to the ground beside the bed. Her arms jerk, but she doesn’t release her hands.

“Good girl.” I take a moment, noticing that the pale skin of her chest is now pink; her breasts jump with every hiccupped breath. But even through all this, she obeys and stays still. “Thank you for giving me this.”

She nods with a few quick bounces of her head, but her eyes don’t meet mine. They’re on my chest, moving between my piercings before dropping down to my abs. I watch her eyes as they devour my body, and a frantic desire blazes beneath my skin.

I need to feel her on me. All over me.

“Give me your hand.” I hold my hand just inches from her fist, giving her the choice to obey.

She places it in mine, and the moisture on her palm is the evidence of her suffering. I smile and bring it to my lips, placing a kiss against her clammy skin. Unable to deny myself her taste for a second longer, I drag my tongue from the heel of her palm to her middle finger and up the pads before slipping the tip into my mouth. My eyes fight to stay open against the salty taste that floods my senses. She groans and circles her hips, grinding into my ass. Fuck, but her writhing body below me, held down by my weight, is so damn hot.

Kissing the pad of her finger, I pull her hand down, controlling the slow pace of her touch against my neck, my clavicle, and finally my chest over the crashing throb of my heart. I release her hand to give her back control.

She studies my expression, asking for permission. I nod, suck in a deep breath, and hold it. Waiting.

Finally, after what seems like forever, she moves. Her touch glides along my pecs, alternating between tracing the pattern of my tattoos and marking her own path. Some passes are gentle and others she allows her nails to drag, raising goose bumps on my arms. Her fingers close around the barbell of my nipple and tug. I groan and drop my head. She tugs again.

Harder. Make it hurt.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but in an effort to keep things a few steps shy of perverted, I lock them down. We’ve come so far, and telling her that I want her to hurt me will destroy the progress we’ve made.

Once she’s thoroughly explored my chest, she lays her hand back down on the bed as if she’s waiting for the next command.

Hope flares in my chest. She’s making this so easy. For the first time I feel . . . normal. I could get used to this.

I push up on my knees and shimmy down her body. “Don’t forget to speak up.” She nods, understanding from last time that if I’m going beyond her comfort zone she needs to let me know.

I hook the elastic waistband of her pants and pull them down. She lifts her ass and holds up one leg at a time until she’s lying in nothing but a pair of lace panties.

“Black. My favorite color.” I run my knuckles up the inside of her thigh and allow my fingers to rest between her legs. “As pretty as these are, baby.”—I pass my knuckles up, down, and up again—“I’m thinking what’s underneath is much prettier.”