On His Terms(25)

He headed down the hallway and to his bedroom. There he leaned against the partially opened doorframe and watched as she slipped out of the bathtub and reached for the towel. The water and bubbles slid down her back, along the crease of her big, round ass, and trailed down the length of her thighs. She wasn’t thin by any means, not sickly skinny like the women he had been with before … like the women that were part of the elite society he associated with. No, Sorcha was all curves, full and lush in all the right places. Her hips were wide, generous, and when she turned to the side slightly he got a sight of the slight roundness of her belly. Her legs were long, thick, and made to wrap around his hips to hold on as he fucked the hell out of her. When she bent slightly at the waist to get the towel he got a small glimpse of the pinkness between her legs, and his cock jerked forward. He palmed himself through his jeans as he watched her towel off, and when she turned around and gasped at his voyeurism, he grew harder still. He ached, fucking ached, to be buried inside of her, and that time had come now.

“How long were you standing there?” she asked softly, and held the towel tight against her damp body. She was red from the bath, and the room smelled like lavender. She’d smell like the flower, and he’d run the tip of his nose up and down her body, memorizing that smell.

“Long enough.” He pushed away from the doorframe, moved inside of the bedroom, and shut the door behind him. They were alone, would stay that way until tomorrow morning, but a closed door always alluded to the idea of privacy. He moved closer to her, watched as she moved a step back, and smiled in amusement. “You actually think you can run from me, Sorcha.” He tilted his head slightly, scanned his gaze up and down her body, and then looked back into her eyes. “That’s cute.” He stopped when she came up against the wall. “You look afraid.”

“I am … a little bit.”

“You’re afraid of me?”

She shook her head. “No, not of you, but of what you want to do to me.”

Her voice had this power moving through him. “And I plan to do a lot to you, Sorcha.”

“I’m a little concerned there will be—”

“Pain?”

She nodded.

“You’re afraid I’ll hurt you because that’s what gets me off?”

“I don’t know, honestly.”

He moved closer so a foot only separated them. She had looked away from him, and he took hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Look at me.” When she was staring right at him he finished. “I would never harm you. The pain that I think you’re referring to, which you think you’re afraid of, is always in a controlled environment and only meant to heighten your pleasure.” He stroked her cheek with his finger and looked at her mouth. “And I’m not a sadist in the sexual sense, not really. I just want you, Sorcha, and went to great lengths to ensure that.” He leaned forward another inch until he could feel and smell the warm, sweet scent of her wine-laced breath along his mouth. “Anything I do to you will bring you just as much pleasure as it will bring me.” He used his hold on her to tilt her head to the side, baring her throat, and having her at his mercy with just this small hold. If she just tilted her head an inch their lips would be touching.

“Out of all the women that you could have, all of the models, actresses, heiress, why would you want me?”

“I told you why, Sorcha.” He still stared at her mouth.

“I can’t believe that is the only reason. I can’t believe that me hating you makes you hard.” She was breathing heavier now.

“You don’t hate me, although you like to think you do, because you think that will excuse what you feel for me.” A beat of silence stretched between them. “There is something about you that draws me in.” He lifted his gaze from her plump red lips and looked into her eyes. “There is something that has this obsession inside of me, that makes me pissed at the way you speak to me, act around me, and has me want to tear off your clothes and fuck you.”

“You like the chase,” she said almost to herself.

“Maybe that’s it.” He slid his hand over her cheek and to the back of her head. “I’m not being cocky when I say I could have any woman I want with just a phone call.”

“Yes, you are.”

He smiled, a genuine one because she was calling him out. “But why would I want a woman that wouldn’t offer me a challenge?” She didn’t respond, but he hadn’t said that to hear her say something back at him. “You’re tough, and are the kind of woman that is set in her ways, stubborn, too.” He leaned in so their lips almost touched. “You’re like me, whether you like to admit it or not. Maybe it’s arrogant of me to think, but I want you fighting back, not putting up with my shit. Because in the end you’ll give it all to me anyway, and that will make your resistance falling all the sweeter. Now, Sorcha.” He took his other hand and held her cheek, now cupping both sides of her face. He wanted her looking right in his eyes when he said the next part, because then she’d know pleasantries were done. “I want you naked, on your knees, and sucking my cock.” He took a step back, reached out to take hold of the towel that shielded her, and pulled it away.