Page 88 of Twisted Knight

His entire body stills at my touch. His hand on my breast tenses as every part of me readies for the feel of him. Teasing me. Pleasuring me. Owning me.

“Does that make you wet?” he murmurs against my skin. “If I felt beneath your skirt right now, would that sweet pussy of yours be dripping for me like it was earlier?” He slides a hand beneath the hem of my skirt and his moan of appreciation fills the room. “Oh, it is, isn’t it?” His mouth meets mine again. His tongue teases as his fingers rub ever so softly, back and forth over my dampened panties.

The pressure is enough for my nerves to know he’s there, but nowhere near what I need or want.

I tighten my hand on his cock in reflex. In need. In desire. It’s the only leverage I have to make him give me what I want. Him. I try to stroke him, to free him from the confines of his jeans. He emits a quick hiss of breath that’s followed moments later by his hand clamping down over my wrist and guiding it to let go.

“Bedroom?” The two syllables are a strained demand as he grabs my ass, and I wrap one leg around his hip. The motion adds to the pressure I need, the friction I want, by rubbing my center against the bulge of his erection.

“Down the hall.” With utter ease and total finesse, he picks me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. My breasts press against the bareness of his chest where his shirt is open. I clasp my hands at the back of his neck and pull him to me so our tongues can meet again.

We can taunt and tease with the sweet promise of what comes next as he moves slowly down the hallway.

“Where? Or the hall floor is about as far as we’re going to get,” he says, his lips moving against mine with each syllable.

“Last door.” The words are panted against the warm skin of his neck. Then they’re forgotten as I press openmouthed kisses down the open collar of his shirt. His hands tighten on my ass with each scrape of my teeth. His breathing grows heavier with each nip of his shoulder blade.

The next time I take notice, we’re in my bedroom and Holden is setting my ass on my dresser. He stands between my spread legs, his mouth going right back to my breasts and his hands running up and down my thighs. Each run up, the pad of his thumb runs ever so gently against the outside of my panties.

Sensations. They’re everywhere. In the touch of his hands. In the brush of his lips. In the warmth of his tongue. In the ache that burns so bright I can’t wait for him to light me on fire.

“Holden.” My fingers thread through his hair. “Please.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip. “The bed.” My fingernails scrape down his abdomen to the jeans now slung low on his hips. “Now.”

His chuckle is a rumble among panted breaths as he stands to full height and puts his hand like a necklace on my throat. I try to shake my head free of his hold, but he just presses my back against the wall, tightens his grip ever so slightly, and leans in. His eyes are on mine, his breath is hitting my face, and his hips are pressing against the V of my thighs.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Rowan.” He licks the seam of my lips but when I part them, when I welcome his in, he shakes his head, that chuckle returning. “In the boardroom, you can spar with me. Question me. Try to tell me what to do.” His lips meet mine in a searing kiss that dizzies my head before he pulls back, and his eyes meet mine again. “In here? In the bedroom? I’m in control. Of your pleasure. Of your orgasms. Of—”

“But—”

“It’s cute that you think you can argue with me on this.” He reaches down with his free hand and slides it between my thighs. His thumb adds pressure to where I want it and my mewl for more is embarrassingly desperate. I need the panties gone. I need his skin on my slick flesh. I need to feel more. “That you think you can tell me what to do.” He tugs on my bottom lip and then licks over the sting. “But you can’t. Understood?”

He looks up at me from beneath dark lashes, his eyebrows raised, his hand still pressing against my throat letting me know who’s in charge, and his eyes begging me to say yes.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” He hooks my panties to the side with a dexterity I don’t pretend to understand and tucks two fingers inside of me.

I cry out as every part of me tightens around him. Wanting a release. Needing one. Mentally begging for him to keep going.

“Christ, baby, you’re a goddamn mess for me.” He leans forward, his lips at my ear, his fingers pushing farther into me with the motion. “See how I reward you when you do what I say? I give you what you want.”

“Uh-huh.” I feel vulnerable. Alive. Overwhelmed. Controlled. A quad of emotions I’ve never had intermingle. They feel foreign, much like his hand on my throat does. They feel wickedly seductive like his fingers currently sliding in and out of me do. “Yes.”

“Good.” He takes a step back, his fingers pulling out of me before he pats me soundly so that the reverberations of the motion against my clit ricochet throughout me. “Now take off your clothes, lie on the bed, and spread your legs so I can admire what it is I’m going to fuck.”

His words are an aphrodisiac all in themselves. The look he gives me as he says them is enough to turn anyone on.

He helps me off the dresser and in the darkness of my room, I do exactly what he says. It’s only after I discard my shoes and step out of my skirt and panties that I hesitate.

Since when do I obey? Since when do I take orders from a man?

But there’s something about the dark promise of his words that turns me on more. There’s something—

“Rowan?” Holden is against my back, clearly naked, his cock evidently free of his pants as it presses salaciously against my ass. I still as he trails a row of kisses down the curve of my shoulder. “Are we hesitating?” He rubs his five-o’clock shadow over the skin there. “It’s hard to give up control. To let someone own your sensations, your feelings, your orgasms.” He lifts his two fingers up to my lips. “Suck.”

I obey. I suck the sweet tang of myself off of him. My mind spinning and my body burning from the heat of his body against mine.

“If that’s what giving up control tastes like,” he says in that low tenor of his, “just think what it’s going to feel like. Now, on your back on the edge of the bed like the good girl I know you are.” His hand grabs my ass and squeezes. “I’m waiting and I don’t like to wait.”