“I hate it.”

“Should we end it?”

“Yes,” I said, the desperation plain in my voice.

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. He traced the curve of my ear with his tongue, a slow torture all its own.

“Beg.”

Chills broke out over my skin. I arched my chest into the air, into nothing because he was barely touching me now.

“Tell me how much you want it. I need the words.”

“Blake...please, just fuck me.”

“That sounds like an order. I want begging.”

I groaned and he pulled away, no longer touching me anywhere in any way.

“Blake!” I was furious and desperate.

“Submit.”

I jolted at the sharp edge of his voice.

“You need to submit to me, Erica, if you want to come. No more playing games. No more testing me.”

I swallowed hard, fighting the instinct to rile at his order. Submit. My throat tightened, as if the word had lodged itself there and wouldn’t pass until I accepted it. That word meant so much. Submitting was easier when I was coaxing him into taking what he needed from me. Now he was taking what he wanted. He wasn’t asking and we weren’t negotiating.

I closed my eyes, straining to hear the voice in my head telling me to relax, to let go. “You’re not making it easy.” I wanted him to understand my resistance, maybe even let it slide. Even when he went all Dom on me, sometimes he’d give me room to push back.

“I’ve been putting out fires all day. I want to come home to you, and I don’t want to have to break you every time. If I have to, I will, but I won’t always be asking nicely and making it easy for you. So you should get used to submitting. You’re naked, tied to the table, and one stroke away from coming. Do you want to come?”

“Yes, badly.”

“Then beg.”

“Please...” The plea was weak as it left my lips.

“I’m listening, Erica. Please what?”

“Please, make me come. I want your hands on me. I’ll do anything...I swear.”

“Will you be home, naked, when I ask you next time?”

“Yes.”

His fingertips grazed my throbbing clit. I sucked in a sharp breath and lifted my hips to meet his touch, but he evaded me as quickly as he’d arrived.

“Promise?”

“I promise. Jesus, I’ll do anything.”

“And I won’t have to give you directions about how to submit again, will I?”

“No,” I promised, shaking my head emphatically.

The heat of his hand radiated where I badly needed him. I resisted the urge to coax my body centimeters closer. Fucking hell, this is torture.

Every cell in my body strained toward his touch, and yet I had no control.

This was the reality I fought to accept. Somehow I had to trust that he’d get us there. With that realization, something inside me released. I weakened against the table, no longer fighting the restraints. My muscles let go but my mind spun, no more in control than my body was over how badly I wanted him.

Then he touched me. Covering my pussy with the palm of his hand, he gripped me firmly.

“This is mine. You don’t come unless I want you to. Do you understand?”

I gazed at him, bleary eyed with my own need. I was seconds from crying for how on edge I was, as if somehow his own frustrations from the day had passed right through me.

“I’ll be whatever you need, Blake.”

His eyes softened a fraction at my concession. Then he entered me with two fingers. My jaw fell, releasing a gasp of relief. He twisted inside me, exploring my wet depths. Trembling, I tightened around him, wishing I had more of him there but grateful I had anything at all. He pumped gently and thumbed my clit with quick circles.

I released a small cry at the potency of that one motion, relieved and coiled up again all at once. My nerves came back to life, my flesh hot and ready for him all over again. God, the man had a gift for making me painfully aware of how much my body thrived with his touch. I caught myself when my hips lifted a fraction on their own accord.

Beg. His demand echoed in my head, both sultry and unforgiving. My core pulsed. Blood thrummed through my veins, humming in my ears. The beginnings of an unstoppable orgasm crept up on me, and I wasn’t about to let it go. Not for pride, not for anything.

“Don’t stop. I’m begging you, please don’t stop.”

“That’s what I want to hear, baby. You want all of me in there?”

“God, yes.”

“Want me to let you come first?”

Colors swirled behind my eyes and every muscle tensed now with anticipation. My eyes flashed open when I realized he hadn’t yet given me explicit permission to come. I met his dark gaze, his eyelids hooded with the same brand of desire that was rushing through me at this very moment.

“Please let me. Blake, please...”

He lowered and caught my mouth in a rough kiss. Our lips rushed over each other, our tongues clashed and sucked. All the while his fingers continued their ministrations, gently fucking me, coaxing me to the edge. The searing pleasure of it overtook me, as if the only sense in the world came from the places where our bodies met, the pleasure he was gifting to me. And I was as grateful as I was desperate to have it. An all-consuming heat swept over me. I began to shake with the effort not to orgasm.

“Oh God,” I whimpered, losing my hold on reality, on anything. “Please, please, please.”

“Come, Erica. Right now,” he rasped into my mouth, his intimate touch deepening.

I gasped for air, arching off the table. Bound by the rope, I could hasten nothing, control nothing. The words, the order, had stripped me down. I was owned. His. At his mercy and command, I crashed over the edge with a wail. I clenched my fists, tight and tautly held as the climax ripped through me.

The world went silent in that perfect moment. I was still trembling when he left me. His fingers went to work loosening the rope around my ankles. Somewhere in the delirious aftermath of the orgasm, I registered relief at this new freedom. Seconds later he was fully naked, covering my body with his. He hooked my legs around his waist and with the thick head of cock against my entrance, he pressed into me a bare inch.

“I’m so fucking hard it hurts. I’m going to fuck you deep, so deep that next time you won’t forget who owns you, baby. I’ll have you coming again and again, until you trust me to give us what we both want.”

My voice was lost in my delirium. I was reeling, barely prepared for what he’d give me next. The muscles of his torso were hard and taut as he wrapped an arm around my waist. His green eyes were dark and dilated, and they locked with mine. I saw him then—the man, but also the animal that lived below the surface.