His jaw clenched and she could see the muscles in his forearms bulge as he yanked on the jersey. The sound of rending fabric muted her aroused gasp. He’d done it. He’d actually ripped her shirt.
She looked down to see the fabric opened to her navel, her breasts bare to his gaze. “I can’t believe you did that. I loved that jersey.”
“You put the idea into my head.” He pushed the shirt easily off her shoulders and it fell at her feet. “I think you’re right about my style, Natasha. I’m feeling a few primal urges right now.”
Hot palms and long, strong fingers covered her full breasts as his mouth took hers in a carnal attack that left her weak. Her lips parted and her back arched instinctively toward his touch.
Finally.
“I’ve been dying to get these in my hands all night. I have dreams about your breasts, Natasha,” he moaned when he came up for air. “Holding them. Burying my face between them.”
He lifted their weight and watched them bounce in his grip, massaging them and staring at them as if they were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen. He pushed them together, then pinched her nipples lightly between his fingers.
Tasha covered his hands with hers and met his gaze. “Harder, Stephen. I can take a lot more than you think.”
His thick lashes obscured his reaction, but his fingers tightened until she cried out and her legs wobbled. She sat on the edge of the bed and he stepped closer, unwilling to release her.
“Like that? Is that hard enough?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
He plucked and twisted and she squeezed her thighs together, feeling her body respond. She loved it. Even more because it was Stephen.
“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? You’re trembling.”
Tasha focused on forming words. “Because I can feel it everywhere. The firmer and sharper, the more I like it. This hurt is the good kind.”
“What does that mean?”
She took another breath. “You touch me, and I feel pleasure. The pinch—ah, yes, like that—zaps through me and mixes with what I’m already feeling. Enhancing it. Intensifying everything. That’s a small example of what BDSM is like. You’re giving me pain and pleasure and, depending on what you do next, I’ll have more of one or the other. You decide, and knowing that excites me.”
“Which do you want more?”
Sweet Jesus. “Follow your instincts. You’re a natural.”
That wasn’t good enough for him. “If I was one of your talented tops, what would I do next?”
She snared his gaze, loving the heat there. “Whatever you want, Stephen. If you’re dominating me, you control what I do with my body and to yours. You decide how rough or gentle. You decide if I’m allowed to come. If I’ve submitted to you, I’ll give it all willingly, follow where you lead and love every minute of it. Unless you go too far and I use our safe word.”
“We have a safe word?” He twisted her sensitive nipples again and she whimpered.
“Puñeta,” she chose randomly with a ragged laugh.
“I know what that means.”
“I’m sure you do. It’s what we’ll both be saying and what you’ll have to do for relief if I tell you to stop.”
“Are you going to tell me to stop, Natasha?”
“No.”
His deep voice lowered sensually. “And you’ll do whatever I say?”
“Yes, Stephen.” Anything.
His legs pressed against her knees. “Then unzip my pants. Now my circulation is being cut off and I don’t want to stop touching you.”
Her laugh was more of a whimper as her hands lifted to obey. She skimmed her fingers lightly over his thick erection and he hissed out a breath.
“Natasha,” he warned.
She unzipped the khakis and spread them open, looking up at him for permission instead of taking him in her hand. He stared down at her and something—interest?—sparked in his eyes. He understood what she was signaling. Submission.
Tasha wanted to touch him. Wanted to take him in her mouth the way she had so many times before. Passionately. Thoughtlessly. But he needed to understand the difference. Needed a taste of what to expect from a D/s relationship. And she couldn’t deny her desire to see his reaction to this kind of intimacy.
His eyes narrowed. “Lie back and put your arms over your head.”
With one last yearning look at his erection, Tasha forced herself to obey. She crossed her wrists over her head, arching her back subtly and shifting her legs, offering herself to him.
He stepped away and fabric rustled somewhere out of her sight. Was he taking off his clothes? She wanted to sit up and watch him, to help him and get him to hurry, but that wasn’t the game they were playing tonight.
Stephen knew how to work a courtroom and read a witness. He knew how to convince town halls full of people to trust him with control of the state reins. But soon he would be in the company of dominant men who understood what it was like to control someone’s pleasure. If he’d never experienced it, they would know.