Mike watched her carefully as he asked, “And what if it pleased your master to have you arrive at Thanksgiving dinner with him?”
Her expression gave her away. Like every other time he’d pushed too far, she shut down, slapping up the walls and hunkering down as if to ride out a storm. He wasn’t surprised when Lyssa shook her head. “Then Master would have to be disappointed. And what’s with referring to yourself in the third person? We agreed this whole Rite of First Claim thing was so you would finally realize we aren’t compatible.”
Mike moved forward, backing her up to the table, disillusionment poking away at his patience. “That’s all you think we’ve been doing? Did you think to work me out of your system?”
The look in Lyssa’s eyes was cautious, but not her voice. “It’s why I agreed. It’s why you asked.”
He’d taken his time, pushed when it was necessary, and backed off when she became skittish, but the warning Mattie had given him weeks ago whispered in his head. “
You’re going to have to break her
.” Contemplating the task and actually doing it were two very different things, but the dominant within him recognized that the only way to prove his commitment to Lyssa would be to rip down the last barrier she held between them. It would require locking down every instinct within him to protect her.
When Lyssa’s eyes went wide, Mike knew determination showed on his face. It was in the very controlled way he held himself as he lifted her onto the table and braced his hands on the thick oak surface on either side of her hips. The tiny V at the base of her throat betrayed the way her heart pounded in her chest. If she was wondering if she’d pushed him too far, she’d have to wait to find out. In careful steps, he mentally locked down the emotions her distress could trigger. Nothing would stand between him and the lesson his woman needed to learn.
Intent on showing her how wrong she was, he offered, “Then let’s see if your plan is working, shall we?”
He stripped the buttons from the holes on her blouse and tugged the sleeveless covering off her shoulders and down her arms. The indigo dyed silk fluttered to the tiled floor. He loosened her matching wide-legged pants, eased them over her hips and off her legs before dropping them onto the top. Bra and panties were discarded next, and then followed the jeans, long-sleeved Oxford cloth shirt, and boxer-briefs he wore.
While his hands dealt with his clothes, his mouth seduced hers. Once finished removing his coverings, Mike lowered Lyssa onto the clean surface of the table and slid his attentions from her lips to the tips of her breasts. He’d noticed the swollen mounds had grown sensitive in the last week, and the firm tug of his teeth on one crest sent Lyssa’s back bowing away from the surface beneath her. Recently he’d learned how quickly Lyssa climaxed from simple stimulation to her breasts. He wedged his body between her thighs, the firm ridge of his aroused penis snuggled into place within the bare, moist folds of her pussy. The wiry curls at its base scraped along the pulsing opening and the wakening nubbin of nerve endings.
“Is this enough for you, Lyssa? Or do you need more?” he growled.
The hard muscles beneath his skin flexed in response to the slide of her fingers. Moving down, she traced the crease separating the thick curves of his pectoral muscles from the ridged line of his abdominals. Then she investigated the ribbon of hair dividing the washboardlike contours of his abdomen until it widened as she reached his navel.
The damp crown of his cock bumped the side of her palm. When she would have wrapped her fingers around him, Mike grabbed her wrist.
“Answer me. Is this enough for you?”
Lyssa rocked her hips against him, nudging his shaft deeper between her labial folds. “No,” she admitted.
A tiny grimace and momentary flash of anger betrayed the frustration her honesty created. In the last three weeks, he’d worked her hard, but now he was sure she craved the feeling of his thick shaft powering into her. Pushing her past limits she’d never known existed within herself.
“Do you need more?” He teased, moving his body forward and back, rubbing, taunting, tempting her with penetration but not fulfilling it.
Her fingers clutched his waist, pulling him closer as she wriggled against his shaft. Without result. Gritting her teeth, she admitted, “Yes. I need… I
want
more.”
“And what if I don’t?” Mike stepped away, the only contact between their bodies the grip he retained on her wrist and the rub of her calves along the back of his thighs.
He watched Lyssa swallow the plea rising within her. During their time together he’d shown her numerous times that he was fully capable of denying his needs in order to prove a point to her. In answer to his question, she cleared her throat and replied, “That’s your decision.”
“And if my decision was to fuck you until you begged for climax but denied it to you?” Mike lifted her from the table and set her on her feet before him. She needed to know the difference between what he’d given her and what she thought she wanted.
A whimper sneaked past her control. The thought of remaining on the edge of climax indefinitely both frightened and stimulated her; he easily read that in her expression. In their time together, he’d taught her the pleasure to be found within the pain of prolonged arousal. It worked to his advantage now. She swayed closer to him, her body rubbing against his, her juices slicking her thighs. “That would be your choice if you felt I needed it.” She slipped easily into the role of submissive, deferring to his direction. He doubted she was even aware of her behavior.
“Very good, you remembered.”
Lyssa nodded. “Rule number two.”
Mike stroked his hands over her swollen breasts. He used his fingertips to pluck at her peaked nipples, registering the gasps and moans Lyssa couldn’t stifle. “Do you need to be fucked, pet?”
Determination filled his voice. Lyssa lifted her gaze to his. What did she see in the dark brown depths of his eyes? Did she sense something stirring? He’d chosen each word for a specific reason. Confusion fogged her expression. She didn’t appear to have figured out what he was getting at. Not yet, but it was there.
“Do I need to be fucked?” she asked.
According to what Mattie had told him, Lyssa couldn’t trust emotions. Need was based on emotions. Ergo, Lyssa refused to trust need. She refused to give in to need. Mike’s gut twisted when he recognized the path she’d chosen. He didn’t want to go there, but he would. He would because his woman had not yet learned to trust completely.
She held his gaze and lied. “No, I don’t
need
to be fucked.”
He tried to hide the disappointment, but a flash of emotion flickered across her face, warning him she’d read it in his expression.
“Then you
want
to be fucked?” he asked.
Resolve glinted in her eye as she nodded. “Yes, I want to be fucked.”
She was so damned stubborn. Mike knew there would be no reasoning with her. No getting her to admit how she truly felt. The second the words left her lips, Mike knew them for the lie they were. He allowed her to believe he accepted them. But he never would.
How could a man walk away from the other half of his soul? He had already resigned himself to waiting her out if Lyssa didn’t succumb in the next week, but he’d be damned if he would leave his woman ignorant of his displeasure with her recalcitrance.
There had been no other men since she’d made love with him four years ago. When he was through with her tonight, there’d be no way she’d allow another man to touch her. Leaning forward, he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and raised her chin with his thumb. “You want to be fucked, Lyssa?”
Something must have shown in his face, because hesitation flickered in her pretty, blue eyes. “Y-y-yes,” she stuttered.
“Turn around and lean on the table.”
She hesitated, then did as he asked. The curve of her bottom was tempting. The puckered rose of her anus was hidden between the smooth round cheeks. But it was the wet pink folds beneath that drew his attention. Still aroused, her thighs flexed and relaxed as if trying to satisfy the internal muscles. He knew her body, knew what pleased her, but for just this moment, he forced himself not to care. He was tired of waiting. Tired of coaxing her along, trying to convince her of the rightness of their being together.
Everything he’d done to her in the past had been meant to show her how much he loved her. If she really thought fucking was all there was between them, he’d let her—for now. Make it all about the sex. It was all she’d admit to. It was how she’d approached their bargain in the first place. Maybe if he made it simply about the sex, she’d let down her guard long enough to expose a weakness to him. If it gave her a taste of taking the lead, showed her the difference between topping and bottoming, she’d see that what he offered was far more to her than she imagined.
Moving close, he pressed her thighs apart and stepped between them. He covered her hands with his, slid his chest over her back, and aligned himself with her. She was wet, ready. Pressing forward, he sealed his body within hers, shoving his cock deep.
“You want to be fucked, Lyssa. And I want to fuck you.” He pulled out and pressed forward, taking little care in the pace and force of his motions. He heard the scrape of the table legs over the tile as he pounded into her.
“Feel it, baby. Two bodies moving. You want it so bad. I can tell. Your sweet pussy is squeezing me so tight.”
The dominant inside cursed him. He was ignoring his responsibilities. The argument that he was merely giving Lyssa what she said she wanted didn’t fly. Mike knew better. The dominant he’d been trained to be knew better. Mike entwined his fingers with hers, providing her an anchor to hold on to, and he dipped his head so he could breath in the scent of her hair, her skin. Whimpers squeezed past her lips as he hammered into her.
“Master?” Her breath came in ragged gasps.
He felt the climax building within her, the way her body pulsed around his, the flutter of her internal muscles, the way her hips pushed upward into his every stroke. Levering his chest off her, he met her bewildered gaze as she looked over her shoulder at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her question followed a low moan as he shifted and reached for another sensitive spot deep inside her.
Mike laughed. The sound was hollow and pained—exactly the way he felt. He lowered his lips to hers and whispered, “I need to stop wishing for miracles, baby.”
“I—”
Mike shook his head and closed his eyes. “No, Lys. Let me give you what you want, and maybe one day,
I’ll
get what I
need
.”
Their bodies slid together, then apart. Breath stilled, then rushed out in drawn-out moans. The table shuddered under the force and pace he used. Sweat beaded her skin and his, making slippery, wet sounds as they moved against one another. He could feel his climax build inside him even as hers erupted through her. The orgasm was intense, primal—and empty. Braced over her, Mike listened to the gasps she couldn’t hold back.
She was always harping on about how unreliable emotions were, but in the quiet of the kitchen, the ache filling his chest assured him the pain of having to let her go would never leave him.
Lyssa Lawrence held his heart and soul, and that would never change.
Not a single word passed between them as Mike separated his body from hers. Breathless and panting, Lyssa lay still, tears wetting her cheeks and dripping onto the table beneath her. Her stomach churned, the delicious steak dinner threatening reappearance. Something was wrong. Very wrong. She couldn’t control the wild mix of emotions bubbling through her. And she sure as hell didn’t understand why she was crying.
The sound of water running brought her head off the damp wood tabletop. The bright overhead light shone down on her like a spotlight, making her wince at how she must look. Before she could rise, the water stopped and Mike smoothed a warm cloth over her bottom, then between her legs. There was nothing personal in Mike’s touch. No quips or comments as he cleaned her. She went still unsure what to do, what to say. His hands handled her the way a dresser handled a model—crisp, efficient, with a minimum of fuss.
The silence continued once she was clean and facing him, her clothes and his bundled in her arms. While she stood to one side, desperate to say something but terrified to speak, Mike wiped down the table and turned off the lights. He didn’t touch her again. With a motion of his hand, he followed her down the hallway to her bedroom and pulled back the covers on the bed.
Shudders coursed through her body as she stood beside the bed. After Mike took the clothes from her arms, careful not to touch her, he deposited them in the laundry hamper. He returned to her side and held the covers for her, his gaze on her until she climbed beneath them and let her head sink onto the pillow. Her nerves jangled in alarm as he gently settled the covers under her chin. He’d never looked at her with such regret and disappointment. Not even when she did everything in her power to push him away.
His voice was devoid of feeling as he leaned forward and smoothed a loose curl away from her check. “I won’t be the dirty little secret you’re embarrassed to admit to, Lyssa. I am not pleased that you lied to me tonight.”
“I—”
The warm touch of his fingertips over her lips stilled her words. “You refuse to accept my love for you, which is your right. But you lie to me when you say you don’t love me. You cheapen the gift of my guidance and protection. For that you’ve earned a punishment.”
Lyssa knew she wouldn’t find enjoyment in whatever he’d decided to do, but for the first time since she’d agreed to his dominance, she gave no argument. It took several seconds of careful contemplation before Lyssa could put a name to the primary emotion filling her.
Shame.
She’d done this to Mike. Her stubborn refusal to tell him how she felt. To openly accept the love and care he’d offered her the last three weeks and then deny that it meant anything to her had been like a slap in the face for him. And she was ashamed of herself for her actions. Ashamed that she’d hurt and disappointed her master. Tears burned her eyes as he stood beside the bed.