Rogue's Passion(27)

“Because I’d like to spend the next few days fucking you, Olivia, and I want you all to myself.”
Her mouth dropped open. She was pretty sure she would’ve staggered backward if he hadn’t been holding onto her. She was both shocked and turned on by his brazen vulgarity. Molten heat burned between her legs and her inner muscles tightened in response. “And that’s my punishment?”
Without asking permission, he pulled down her towel and lazily circled her areola with a long finger, causing her nipples to peak even further. “No, because I’ll make sure you enjoy it as much as I will.”
She had no doubt he would, because she was on the verge of coming and he hadn’t even slipped a finger inside her yet.
“So if that’s not my punishment, what is?” she asked, huskily.
He pursed his lips and frowned as if he were thinking, all the while teasing her breasts. She knew damn well that he already knew the answer. “During your time with me, you must submit to everything I ask of you.”
She swallowed nervously and thrills of pleasure ran down her spine. “You mean like…be your slave?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Liv. You will be my slave for the week.”
She’d always been completely in control of her own life, moving around, never letting anyone in too close. But Asher knew her secret and he’d proved he could keep it. It might be interesting—and fun—to relinquish control just this once.
“Will there be any limits?” she asked. “Because I’m not doing anything illegal or disgusting.”
“Nothing like that. I promise.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
She considered her options and decided that waiting until next week to look for another job wouldn’t be a big deal. “And at the end of seven days?”
“We go our separate ways. I’m not looking for a courtship, Olivia. This is just for fun.”
After her last relationship fiasco, she wasn’t interested in anything long-term, either. She was just looking for a good time with no strings attached. Glancing at his motorcycle boots thrown carelessly on the tile floor, she remembered her vow to stay away from the bad boys.
That could start next week, too.
***
Before she could get used to their new arrangement, he was giving her his first order.
“Go to the bed,” he said, pointing. “I want you on all fours, facing the headboard. And lose the towels.” She started to gather up her things from the floor of the bathroom, but he stopped her. “I said now.”
“But they’re the only clothes I have and they’re filthy. Let me wash them out in the sink.” Hopefully, they’d be dry enough by the time they left to pick up Conry.
He cupped her chin and lifted it. A fiery light sparkled in his eyes. “Rule Number One this week: You’ll do as I tell you. Rule Number Two: No talking back.”
“But—”
“Olivia,” he warned, his expression darkening. “I’m not going to ask again. If I do, there will be consequences.”
A little thrill shot through her. Just what would those consequences be? In a show of quiet defiance, she raised an eyebrow at him and tossed the towels to the floor. Finger-combing her hair so it wouldn’t dry weird, she strode into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed.
“Excellent,” he said from behind.
She heard the squeak of wood. Turning around, she saw him rummage through the top drawer of his dresser and pull out what looked to be an unopened box of condoms and a plaid scarf. Was he going to tie her up? But instead of reaching for her wrist, he slipped the scarf over her eyes and her world went black.
She started to protest, to tell him that she was a visual person and wanted to watch his body slide into hers, but he reminded her of Rules Number One and Two again.
The mattress sagged as he climbed onto the bed behind her. Warm, calloused hands caressed her butt, then ran up the small of her back to her ribcage. He mumbled something in a language she didn’t understand, then feathery light kisses trailed down the skin of her neck and back. She was expecting to hear the sound of the condom package ripping open. Slick heat gathered in her sex as she waited to feel him there. He was big. She hoped he’d go slow.
But instead, he grabbed her wrists and placed each hand on the metal headboard in front of her. “Hold on here,” he told her. “And spread your legs a little wider.”
She did as she was told with no arguing. He noticed, too. “Good job,” he said, chuckling. “You’re a quick study.”
“My teacher is very demanding.”
She heard a lamp click on and suddenly the darkness inside the blindfold didn’t seem quite as black.