Page 6 of Sherwood
He laughed—a fast, rasping laugh that went away as quickly as it had come. “Do you want to fuck, Marian?”
“Yes,” I said. At the very first BDSM munch I’d gone to in college, a well-meaning host had explained to me that kink didn’t have to be sexual, that a scene didn’t have to include sex, and that I could enjoy the catharsis and sensation of kink without bringing desire into the equation. I’d appreciated the nuance, but for better or worse, kink got me hot. I very, very much wanted my kink to be sexual.
“Then yes, Marian,” Rafe replied, leaning forward and catching my hand. “We’ll fuck.”
“Good,” I breathed, as he dropped a soft kiss to the back of my hand. His lips grazed over my knuckles, giving just a whisper of tongue. Taking just a taste.
He was tasting me.
The response that evoked in me must have been hard to miss. He dropped his eyes to the bodice of my gown, where I knew the tips of my breasts were pressing hard against the velvet, and then his gaze traced over the fresh goosebumps peppering my exposed arms.
Somehow I’d gone from thinking I wasn’t ready for anything at all to burning alive with need, and the idea of leaving The Knot withoutsomething—without even a mark, without even a hint of the mayhem I wanted Rafe to sketch on my body—was agonizing. I needed something, I needed more.
Ineeded, period.
“Can’t we…can’t we do something tonight?” I asked.
He lifted his head from where he’d been kissing my hand. That was contrary to another college-munch-factoid I’d learned: a dominant would never have their head lowered, they’d never perform such an obeisant deed as kissing someone’s hand. And yet as Rafe looked up at me, he didn’t seem diminished or any less powerful than before. He lookedpleasedthat he’d kissed me and tasted my skin. Like he’d seen something he wanted and he’d taken it and now it was his.
“Please?” I added for good measure.
“It’s not a good idea,” he said.
“That’s not ano.”
He straightened all the way up but kept hold of my hand, the tips of his fingers resting against where the pulse thrummed in my wrist. “I can’t tell if you’re this used to negotiating at your job or if you’re a blossoming brat.”
He didn’t sound irritated—though it was hard to tell with that rough, half-growling voice—but he did sound stern. Which my body responded to immediately.
“Probably the first one, but I wouldn’t discount the second,” I said, a little breathlessly. “Please, Rafe. Sir.”
He sighed and shook his head, as if I were nothing but trouble and he was of half a mind to do something about it. “You should have time to think this over. To consider if you’d still like to play after we’ve talked about limits and such.But,” he added, forestalling the protest already on my lips, “I suppose a little something wouldn’t hurt. Just a sample.”
“Yes, please,” I said, already moving forward. I hoped he’d take me over his knee or order me over to the bench. Or that he’d strip off my dress and make me endure his assessing stare…
Whatever it was, I wasready. In the space of an hour, I’d converted from doubt to eagerness, and maybe it was only that I’d needed a push in the right direction—or maybe it was because, for the first time since my parents’ death and my sudden inheritance of their empire, I found myself breathing easy and free. Here in this room, here with this man.
Here with his kiss lingering on my skin and his pale blue eyes reflecting the small fire behind me.
A noise rumbled in Rafe’s throat at my eagerness. A little laugh, maybe.
“Well, then. Let’s see what would be dirty enough for a prim little thing like you.”
I didn’t bother arguing theprim little thing. I’d been raised an heiress and had spent my life cloistered in boarding schools and stuffy society events. Manners and decorum had been baked into me from the beginning, which was probably why I’d developed such a girlhood fixation on Lox. She’d been born into the same world, fettered with the same expectations, and yet she’d somehow remained entirely herself, entirely her own stubborn yet playful person. The pressure that had eventually frozen me into porcelain had simply rolled off Lox the same way rain rolls off leaves in a forest.
“Redmeans stop,” said Rafe. “Yellowmeans slow down.”
“Will I really need a safeword for this?” I asked doubtfully.
One of those broad shoulders lifted. “Possibly not. But I don’t play without them. Now get on your knees, Marian.”
I obeyed as quickly as I could, my heart thumping hard against my chest as I knelt in front of him. I reached for my dress, to arrange it better around myself, but he caught my wrist with his hand.
“No, no,” he tutted, guiding me all the way upright. “I didn’t ask you to make yourself look all lovely and composed. And that’s because I want youdiscomposed, darling. I want you rumpled and undone, and I want you messy, and I suppose now is as good a time as any for you to learn that I always get what I want. Always.”
He pulled my wrist up to his mouth, and I breathed out at the feel of his lips on my skin once more.
“What are you going to do?” I whispered.
