After a moment he released her. Unable to help herself, she flattened her hands over her breasts.

When he laid his hands over hers, she had a second of confusion. Then he used his fingers to bend hers, guiding her to pinch her nipples.

No. No way. She tried to yank her hands away.

He was obviously trying to keep a straight face. “If you cover up what is mine to play with, you’ll do the playing for me.” He paused. “Would you rather I do the work?”

She nodded frantically.

After allowing her to snatch her hands away, he ran his wide palms over her, easily cupping her large breasts. His low hum of appreciation stroked her ego as wonderfully as his fingers did her nipples.

He closed his lips over hers again. His hands didn’t stop, and her breasts swelled until the skin felt tight. He released her lips and nipped her jaw.

His black hair spilled over the rippling muscles of his shoulders, tempting her unbearably. She reached for him. Hesitated. “Um. Can I touch you?”

“Good girl. I’m pleased you thought to ask.” He wrapped her fingers around the headboard carvings. “Keep them here. If you obey, I’ll permit your touch in a bit.” His tone dropped to a menacing warning, his slight accent stronger. “Don’t let go, Abigail. No matter what I do.”

Her insides were turning into a lake of lava. “Yes, sir.” But what was he going to do?

He teased his tongue along the rim of her ear and kissed the hollow below it. Goose bumps ran down her arms.

Sitting back, he studied her, his gaze sensuous as it lingered on her face, her breasts, her groin. “You’re a beautiful woman, Abby.”

Sure she was.

He chuckled. “Such a cynical look.” When he lightly pinched one nipple, heat arrowed straight to her clit. “It’s not wise to disagree with the person topping you.”

“No, sir.”

He was laughing at her, as if he knew how badly she was starting to ache. And that pinch… Her nipples were peaked, begging for his touch.

He bent and licked over one before puffing a breath over it. Hot. Cold. He did the same to the other, alternating back and forth, until they throbbed.

“Hmm.” To her dismay, he moved up to kiss her again, and her arms shook with the need to push him back. Move him down. Her hips squirmed under his.

“No, pet. Stay still.” His hand gripped her hair, holding her and restraining her as his kiss turned rougher, and he took what he wanted, deep and wet. The feeling of being held that way was…so erotic. His teeth closed on her chin, trapping her with the not quite painful pressure as he pinched her nipples.

A bite to her neck, a harder one on the long muscle of her shoulder. The pain of it flared, then simmered like spice added to a soup. His hair brushed over her skin, a cool touch in contrast to the burning inside her. He slid his tongue along her left collarbone as he moved down. Each nip created a tiny pain, and he was driving her mad with an urgent hunger. Her breasts ached as he inched lower.

“I like your almond lotion,” he murmured. “You smell edible.” His teeth pinched the outside of her left breast before the pull of his mouth on the nipple made her moan. He released her to lightly bite the outside again, slightly farther down, then returned to the distended tip.

Back and forth, he circled her breast, alternating a stinging nip with sucking on the peak, creating a circumference of tiny pains with a center that ached more with each second.

When he’d finished the circle, he lifted his head. She tensed, anticipating the next bite on the outside, but his lips paused over her areola…paused… Then his teeth lightly closed right on the peak.

She felt a quick pain before searing pleasure blasted through her, and she half screamed, half moaned.

He moved to her other breast.

Not again. She couldn’t bear it. She grabbed his shoulders.

He closed powerful fingers over her wrists, pinning her arms to the bed over her head. “Where did I tell you to put your hands?”

“Xavier.” She whimpered, half floating in a fog of sexual need.

“Abigail.” The sharpness of his icy voice cut like a whip.

“My liege. Please, I…” Begging wouldn’t work. He was in charge. “I’m sorry.”

When he opened his grip, she closed her fingers around the carvings on the headboard. The wood felt cool and satiny under her fingertips.

He waited for a moment before nodding approval. “You’d have an easier time if I tied you, pet, but we haven’t reached that level of trust yet. Not when you’re at home with no one else around. You’ll have to restrain yourself.” He stroked her lips with a calloused fingertip. “Remember our discussion of funishment?”

She nodded.

“If you let go, you’ll discover how it works. And at least one of us will think it’s fun.”

Oh no, not going to happen. When her fingers tightened on the spools, amusement lit his eyes.

He nipped the outside of her right breast. Her left nipple still stung from his teeth, and he pinched it lightly with his fingers, prolonging the throbbing. His lips closed and pulled over the right peak. And he slowly circled her right breast as he had the left, alternating light bites with sucking.

With each repetition, her body grew stiffer in anticipation.

He completed the circle and lifted his head. Paused.

Oh sweet heavens. Her breathing stopped.

His teeth closed on her right nipple and tightened slowly, like breast clamps. Pain streaked through her, but the aching tip blossomed with pleasure as well. His tongue swirled, adding a wet heat, and he bit again. Harder.

“Ow— Ooooh, God, wait.” The pain erupted into a shocking pleasure that filled her body. Her hands opened, releasing the spools. She arched toward him, needing more. Less.

Still holding her between his teeth, he gripped her elbows, keeping her arms over her head.

She struggled against his restraint, yet the sinking feeling in her belly increased at the power in his hands, at the unyielding control.

When he lifted his head, blood rushed back into her nipple, and she moaned as it pulsed with every heartbeat. He closed her hands over the headboard again and moved down. His long hair trailed after him, feathering over her breasts.

When he licked her soft, round belly, the skin quivered. He slid lower. His breath swept over her mound, and her breathing hitched. He was… Doms didn’t do oral sex. Nathan never did—he’d said it was her place to serve him.

“I…” She swallowed. “My liege, you don’t have to do…that.”

To her consternation he stopped and sat back on his calves. Still fully clothed. “Abigail. Do you have permission to speak?”

She whispered, “No, sir.”

“Correct.” A crease appeared in his cheek. “I’m glad to know I don’t have to do”—his lips quirked—“that.” In an arrogant, possessive move, he flattened his hand between her legs.

The pressure right where she ached the most made her hips squirm.

“Do you, by any stretch of the imagination, think I need your permission to do or not do something? Outside of stopping if you use your safe word?”

The look in his eyes was merciless. A Master’s look. He’d do what he wanted, and if he wanted to put his mouth on…her…he would.

He tapped her clit, and she clenched at the frisson of pleasure. “Right now this cunt is my toy to play with as I want.” He pinched her aching nipples, pulled, pinched harder. The pain streaming through her blossomed into pleasure. “These breasts are mine.” His finger ran around her lips. “Your mouth is mine, and I may yet want to use it.”

Each uncompromising statement made her body grow tenser. Hotter.

“Since you saw fit to interrupt me, you obviously need a lesson in how annoying interruptions can be.” His mouth curved in a lethal smile. “You have my permission to speak as long as you’re begging.”

Begging. Oh, get real. He pinched her nipples again, rolling them between his fingers until a relentless thrumming filled her world, settling low in her belly.

After tossing his hair behind his shoulders, he slid down and licked over her pussy, teasing her with the flicker of his tongue. She gasped at the dazzling pleasure. Under his hot, wet attentions, her clit hardened as the tissues engorged with blood.

He nipped her inner thigh, making her yelp. Even as the sting sizzled and faded, he laved her clit with his tongue. Bit her other thigh. Back to her clit. Again he was alternating each tiny pain with exquisite pleasure, and her whole body stiffened as she recognized the terrifying pattern—one with her clit as the center.

His tongue lingered over the nerve-filled nub, increasing the needy tension. Her muscles tightened; her hips lifted.

He moved. A nip stung her outer labia—pain—before he returned. Pleasure. The air grew so thick she could hardly breathe.

She wiggled her hips, trying to escape the sting, trying to make him lick more. He circled her clit, once and again, and as she strained upward he slid two hard fingers into her, stretching her abruptly. Nerves ignited until need tormented her whole lower half.

His tongue continued, around and around, and she was going to come, actually come and—

He stopped, and his black gaze met hers. “Interruptions are annoying, aren’t they?”

Her mouth opened in a soundless protest. She would have come. Could have. Her eyes closed. He knew exactly how close she’d been. He could have pushed her over…if he’d wanted to.

Deep inside she started to shake. He didn’t have her in bondage, but she had no control here at all. Whatever he wanted to do, he would.