Leslie Kelly - Scandalous Mistress - Double Take / Captivate Me / My Double Life

His hands immediately dropped, moving away, tormenting her.

Because she’d ordered?

His kiss became harder, insistent, demanding that she give herself over to him.

Stop trying to control. Stop making demands.

Trust him. Let him. And let yourself.

She hesitated, part of her rebelling. The urge to try to gain the edge, to turn the tables, whispered inside her. But somehow she knew if she did, she’d be the one who suffered. Maybe they’d still have great sex tonight, but tomorrow, she would be able to convince herself he was just like everyone else she’d ever slept with. A man who didn’t mind doing what she told him to, as long as he got his rocks off.

Mike’s not that man.

He could never be.

And if she pushed him to be that man, she might not have great sex with him tonight—or ever. Because he’d just turn around and walk out the door.

She couldn’t bear that. No matter what it cost her or how it might hurt, she couldn’t let him go without submitting to at least one remarkable night with him.

All she had to do was let him into every part of her, not just her body. All she had to do was surrender.

Just surrender.

He softened the kiss, cajoling her, seducing her. He continued to touch her with long, teasing strokes that were never quite enough.

Surrender.

Finally, she did. She trusted him.

“Anything you want, Mike,” she whispered into his mouth, whimpering, dying. “Any way you want it.”

He pulled away, looking down at her, masculine satisfaction written all over his face. His eyes glittered, the pupils dark with want, and a confident smile tugged at that incredible mouth. “Are you absolutely sure? Because I won’t stand for barriers. I’ll plow right through them.”

Swallowing, she nodded, both scared and incredibly turned on by his self-assurance. He wasn’t threatening her, he was promising her. She only had to let down her defenses and he’d push through until she felt so good she wouldn’t remember her own name, much less her silly objections.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay then.”

He stroked her slowly, sliding his hands back up to cup her breasts again. But he focused only on her face, watching her intently, as if to ensure she really was ready to let him lead the way.

Lindsey gasped when he pushed the robe off her shoulders, pulled the spaghetti straps of her nightgown down and peeled the silky fabric from her chest. She hissed when his thumbs scraped over her taut nipples, sensation rocketing through her. She moaned when he finally kissed his way down her throat and licked the top curves of her breasts.

And when he finally covered one puckered nipple with his mouth and sucked, hard, she gave a little groan.

Heat burst through her; she truly was on fire, mindless, desperate to know what he’d do next but not asking, not interfering. Just taking.

He sucked her, tweaked her, exploring her breasts with his hands and his mouth until she was sagging into the arm of the chair. Then he kissed his way back up to her mouth and pulled her to her feet. But he didn’t keep her there.

Not letting the kiss end, he picked her up by the hips, holding her bottom in his big, strong hands. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, almost crying at the sensation of cupping that long, hard ridge of flesh between her thighs. She ground against it, desperate for the pressure, the strength, and whimpered as her sex swelled and moistened, pulsing with electric fire.

“God, yes,” she groaned. “Please, I need to...”

“No,” he ordered, lifting her higher so her sex was pressed against his waist, removed from that connection she craved. “You don’t take it—I give it to you.”

“But...”

“I said no,” he growled. “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

She sucked in a shocked breath, staring into his face. He didn’t smile, didn’t wink, didn’t tell her he was joking. He merely held her stare, laying down his conditions.

Mike didn’t want merely her surrender. He wanted her total and complete submission.

The modern woman within her screamed in frustration.

The sexual being within her purred in anticipation.

Being free to do nothing but feel. No thoughts, no plans, no reactions...just sensation. Pleasure. The very concept scared her. It thrilled her. It overwhelmed her. It intoxicated her. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe; she could only give in to her true desire. And her true desire was something that would have stunned her just ten days ago.

“All right, Mike. For tonight, at least, you’ll be in charge. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do.”

7

THERE HADN’T BEEN much doubt in Mike’s mind of exactly what Lindsey wanted and needed, even if she didn’t know it herself. But until she actually agreed, he’d held his breath.

The moment the words left her lips, he released that breath with a self-satisfied groan. “You won’t regret it,” he promised her, intending to keep that promise no matter what it took.

Not giving her any more time to reconsider, he headed for her room. Kicking the door open so he could carry her through it, he crossed to the bed, tossing her down upon it.

Lindsey landed amongst a pile of pillows, half reclining. She was now covered only by a skimpy pair of panties and a tiny, wispy light blue nightgown that was pulled down low on her breasts, not even covering one well-sucked nipple. The fabric floated up over her hips when she landed, so now it covered only her middle.

He didn’t follow her down, instead he stood by the bed, looking down at her. She reached toward one of her spaghetti straps—to pull it back up or push it all the way off? Didn’t matter. He hadn’t said she could.

“Ah-ahh,” he tsked. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

Her hand froze; she eyed him with uncertainty. A beat. Then she lowered her hand onto the bed. Obeying.

Though he knew she was still unsure about this, her eyes glowed and her face was flushed with hunger. Her kiss-reddened lips trembled. Those beautiful nipples he’d suckled were hard and moist, and he’d lay money she wanted to lift her own hand to tweak them, just so she could have a moment’s satisfaction.

She didn’t move, however. She merely watched. Waited.

“Good girl.”

“I’m not calling you master,” she said with a tiny, playful smile, though her words sounded unsure—forced.

“You will if I tell you to,” he said, his voice low, silky, brooking no disobedience. He reached down and pushed her hair away from her face, brushing his thumb over her lips. “Won’t you, Lindsey?”

She blinked, her cheeks reddening, from anger? From excitement? Was a war going on behind her green eyes? He couldn’t be sure, not until her tongue flicked at his thumb, as if she simply had to taste him. And then she slowly nodded.

He had no intention of making her call him master; however, she’d just agreed that he could. Not forever, certainly not outside this bedroom. But here and now, oh yes, he could, and she knew it. Progress.

He began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it free of his pants. She watched closely, her breaths growing audible as she parted her lips and inhaled over them. When he undid his cuffs, pulled the shirt off and dropped it to the floor, she groaned, approval and hunger warring in her expression. Her hips thrust the tiniest bit, indicating she had no control over her body’s reaction. She wanted him desperately. Wanted to touch him and explore him, as he wanted to explore her.

But not yet.

“Take that off,” he ordered, nodding toward her nightie.

She didn’t refuse, didn’t tell him he forgot to say please. Lindsey was getting caught up in this. She was enjoying it.

Crossing her arms over her breasts, already mostly revealed to his hungry gaze, she pushed the straps down, pulling her arms free, and letting the gown float into a puddle on her lap. Her breasts were works of art, round and full, but not too heavy. He could still taste those rosy nipples on his tongue.