Page 35 of Shifted Desire

“Again. Like you mean it this time.”

His jaw clenches, and I hear the little growl of protest from his inner monster-y side, but he leans forward again, this time closing his eyes as he places a lingering kiss on the shiny black vinyl.

The tension in the air sizzles between us, my succubus side picking up on his arousal at the degrading act and harmonizing with my excitement at his submission. He may act like I picked something demeaning to spite him, but boot worship was on his list of interests.

I reach forward and run a hand over his low cut hair. “That’s better.”

He shivers, sitting back a bit on his heels so he can look at me better, and his erection tents his work pants.

“Color?” I ask, lifting a brow. I know better than anyone that just because your body is giving off signals of arousal, that doesn’t mean you’re actually into what’s happening.

He sighs, sounding put-upon and a little frustrated. “Green.”

I giggle, the sound far too girlish for a badass domme, but he grins back at me and I can’t find it in me to care that I broke my persona.

Looking down at my boot, I notice there’s a smudge from his lips. “If I told you to clean up the mark you made with your tongue, what would your color be then?”

Nathan’s pupils dilate. “... Green.”

I lick my lips. “Go on then. Clean it up.”

He moves closer, picking his hands up off the floor so he can cradle my ankle in them, and though I didn’t give him permission to touch me, I don’t tell him to put them back down because I’m too mesmerized by the delicate, almost reverent way he holds my foot in place.

My breath hitches as he leans forward, tongue extended, and keeps his gaze locked on my face as he licks a wet stripe across the smudge his lips made.

He groans, no doubt smelling and feeling the spike of arousal from me, his eyelids fluttering closed as he drags his tongue across the vinyl again, saliva leaving the material shiny.

“Such a good wolf,” I murmur, and he groans again.

“Shit, don’t call me that,” he replies, but doesn’t stop his slow licks that make me think of how his tongue would feel on my clit.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to come in my damn pants,” he grumbles.

The laugh that bursts out of me has him pulling back from my boot. His eyes shine with need, and his dick looks like it’s about to rip through his pants.

“Take them off then.”

He doesn’t hesitate, making quick work of his belt and shoving his pants and underwear down to his knees. It’d look absurd if it didn’t add to the kinky humiliation tableau of him so desperate that he has his dick out while he’s kissing my boots.

I like men overwhelmed by me, when it’s on my terms. When I trust them not to use that urgent desire as an excuse to take more than I’m willing to give. Which is, sadly, a very rare occurrence.

But Nathan…he’s perfect.

His body language and energy scream how badly he wants to fuck me, but it’s accompanied by the control and decency that most men lack. I may not be a powerful empath like Claire, but with Nathan, there’s an intangible energy I’ve never felt from a sexual partner before, telling me with a bone-deep level of certainty that he’d never hurt me.

Dammit, those can’t be tears. Not right now. I swallow hard against them, praying Nathan doesn’t notice. He will if he keeps staring at me like that, waiting for my next command, so I spread my legs wider and point between my thighs.

“You’ve made a mess here, too.”

He lets out a soft growl and is between my legs in an instant, his nose running along the inside of my thigh, inhaling deeply as he grips my thighs.

I’m not in the mood for him teasing me right now, and the feeling of his hands on me is making more of those strange tears well up.

“Did I tell you to touch me? Hands behind your back.”

He huffs, giving my flesh a greedy squeeze before he lets go. His eyes bore into mine, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to let the liquid in my eyes spill down my cheeks.