Wicked
in her fantasies, to experience what she already knew would be the greatest sex of her life? Quite possibly the only chance she’d have at such phenomenal sex.It wouldn’t do any harm at all. As long as she remained in control, as long as she knew that once the weekend was over, this game was over.
As long as she didn’t involve her heart, then when the weekend was over, she could walk away with a smile on her face.
A big-ass wicked smile.
She raised her chin, refusing just yet to give up complete control. “You want it. Then take it, Rand.”
three
Rand watched the play of emotion cross Blair’s face as she spat out the words. Indecision, a shadow of fear. Even anger, then resolution. She held her chin in a stubborn tilt as if daring him to command her to do anything she didn’t want to do.
She didn’t yet understand. But before the weekend was through, she’d realize she was the one who held all the power.
He stood and looked down at her, holding his hand out. For the longest few seconds she stared at it, then slid her warm fingers in his palm. He pulled her to her feet, jerking her roughly against his chest.
“I’ve waited fifteen years for this,” he said, then slanted his mouth across hers, breathing in the scent of cinnamon.
The first touch of his mouth to hers was wildfire. Uncontrolled, unchecked flames scorched him. He knew it was going to be like this, yet he still wasn’t prepared for how goddamned hot she was, how perfect her body felt pressed alongside his. Her full breasts crushed against his chest, her hips nestled against his pelvis. He wanted to touch her and kiss her everywhere all at once.
Slow. Down. His heart pumped like a churning freight train as he moved his lips over hers, digging his fingers in the lush softness of her hair, devouring her mouth and licking at her tongue like it was the nectar of the gods. His cock was ramrod stiff and insistent on breaking free of the denim, straining his zipper. His balls ached, his fingers itching to wrap themselves around the firm globes of her sweet ass.
It wasn’t until he was damn near delirious that he realized the only one spiraling out of control was him. Blair was stiff, unyielding, holding back. Though her palms were braced against his chest, her mouth responding under his, she wasn’t participating. She was following his lead, but not in the way he wanted her to.
Blair was scared to let go. Which meant he was going to have to take over and force it. Take the control away from her so she wasn’t acquiescing but being forced to participate. He knew the game; it was the same one they’d been playing for fifteen years. Obviously they’d have to continue to play it.
He slowed down his kiss, forced his racing pulse from its breakneck speed into something more manageable. Time to gather his wits and take over this situation before Blair turned into a steel girder in his arms.
He broke the kiss and stepped away from her. Her eyes shot open, and she stared at him, frowning.
“What?” she asked.
“On your knees.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He flipped open the button on his jeans, his cock pounding in anticipation. “Get down on your knees.”
She looked to his crotch, her gaze riveted on the slow slide of his zipper as he drew it down.
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” He drew his shirt over his head and tossed it on the sofa behind her. Her gaze never left the vee of his jeans. Not until those gorgeous baby blues took a long, leisurely look up and over his hips, stomach, chest, finally focusing on his face again. Only this time she wasn’t wide-eyed with shock.
She was pissed. But beyond the frown and tight lips there was a fire in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, a passion that had been lacking when she had come to him “willingly.”
Okay, so she liked to be told what to do. He could sure as hell live with that. “I mean now, Blair. Do what I tell you or I’ll make you do it.”
He was going to enjoy every fucking minute of bending her to his will. And deep down, he knew Blair would, too.
Game on.
* * *
Blair sucked in a heaving breath of righteous indignation. Down on her knees.
He could damn well kiss her ass if he thought she’d drop like some subject to a king and suck his cock just because he commanded it. They were kissing. Things were going fine. Then what the hell happened?
Okay, so maybe the earth wasn’t moving for her, but it was okay.
And so maybe as soon as he commanded her to drop down in front of him, her clit quivered and her nipples tightened. But that didn’t mean she was going to do it.
“You’re not moving,” he said, his voice lowering an octave.
One damn sexy octave, too.
“I don’t intend to. This is stupid. I’m not playing—”
“And neither am I,” he interrupted, grabbing her wrist and jerking her against him. In seconds they had switched positions, and Rand was seated on the couch with Blair belly down across his lap. “This has been a long time coming.”
Her breath momentarily left her diaphragm, or she would have been screaming. Instead, all she could manage was a grunt of outrage as Rand placed one firm hand on her ass, sliding her skirt up over her hips and ripping off the tiny scrap of her thong to bare her buttocks.
“Such a fine, firm ass you have, Blair. I’ve been dying to get my hands on it.”
She couldn’t help it. She flooded with moisture as he swept his huge hand over her ass. Anticipation swelled her clit, and she tensed, waiting for it.
Needing it.
When the first swat hit her left cheek, she bit back a moan, refusing to let him know how