Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(101)

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good. You deserve it,” he murmured. He pinched gently at both of her nipples and she shuddered in pleasure. “If I weren’t so careful of you, I’d be giving you much worse right now for what you dared.”

“For falling in love with you?”

He paused in his lewd squeezing of her breasts and met her stare. She was panting heavier now, causing her flesh to rise and fall subtly in his molding palms.

“No. For nosing into my business and prying into my life.”

For seeing my mother at her most vulnerable . . . for seeing my pain.

“I told you I was sorry, Ian,” she said through flushed pink lips.

“I don’t think you are,” he said, suddenly furious again. He leaned over and seized her lush mouth in a ravaging kiss. All he could think about was burying his cock in her tight, wet * and losing himself to the forgetfulness of pure, slamming pleasure. Her breath was warm and sweet as she panted against his lips a moment later.

“You aren’t going to change my mind,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes as if to prevent the rush of feeling that went through him. His desperation mounted.

“We’ll see,” he said, turning her so that he could unfasten her cuffs, his gaze lingering on her still-red ass. He’d paddled her harder than he ever had before, he realized with a stab of regret, but she hadn’t complained, even when he’d given her the chance. And the abundant moisture he’d felt between her thighs had told him loud and clear her arousal was greater than her discomfort.

“Turn around and bend over at the end of the bed. Put your hands on the footboard to brace yourself.”

She followed his instructions without hesitation, leaning over the bed, bent over while standing. She didn’t look around when he approached her from behind, although he sensed her focused curiosity and anxiety.

Sweet, trusting Francesca.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured. “This time I will see you submit to pleasure, not pain.”

He turned on the Rabbit vibrator to a low setting and peeled back her buttocks, exposing the entrance to her *. His cock jumped, throbbing furiously when he saw how slick the tiny hole was, how glistening her sex lips and entire perineum were from her arousal.

He pushed the vibrator into her vagina all the way. She gasped, and then jumped when he turned on the rabbit ears and they wiggled energetically over her clitoris.

“Oh!”

“Nice?” he asked as he drew the vibrator out of her slit and pushed it back in. Her * clung around the silicone like a little sucking mouth. God, he couldn’t wait to get into her . . .

. . . but he would wait. He’d see Francesca submit first . . . beg him. Why he needed that like he did his next breath of air remained a puzzle to him, but he couldn’t dampen the potent desire.

He manipulated her with the vibrator, stroking her *, letting the rabbit ears do their work on her clit, listening all the while to the sound of her gasps and whimpers and cries . . . gauging. When her breathing became ragged, he turned off the clitoral vibrators and just pleasured her * lips and vagina with the sex toy.

“Oh, please,” she moaned after a moment. He knew she’d been about to climax before, and that while the vibrator in her * was pleasurable, she wanted the rabbit ears on her clit.

“Your clit is too sensitive. You’ll make things end too quickly.”

“Please, Ian,” she repeated, sounding mindless as she firmed her hold on the footboard and began to pump her hips, riding the vibrator.

He smacked her bottom hard enough to sting. She paused in the frantic grinding of her hips.

“Who is in charge here?” he asked quietly.

“You,” she whispered after a pregnant pause.

“Then hold your ass still,” he ordered, before he began to slide the vibrator in and out of her again, letting the rotating beads and ribbed shaft do their work. Her moan a moment later sounded harsh and desperate. He relented and turned the motor to a higher vibration.

“Ohhhh,” she mewled. “Oh, Ian . . . let me move.”

“Stay still,” he ordered, plunging the vibrator deep into her until he felt her heat and moisture against the ridge of his forefinger where he held the handle. His vision narrowed to the intensely erotic image of the silicone shaft sliding in and out of her tight slit. Her moans and aroused, frustrated whimpers filled his ears. He tormented her, keeping her right on the edge, relishing in his power.

“Please . . . let me come,” she begged, her plea bursting out of her throat. He paused in his thrusting motion when he heard the strain in her breaking voice. He yearned to deny her. He longed to give her everything she ever asked for . . . and more.

The conflict warring inside him was too much. He removed the vibrator and tossed it onto the bed.

“Stand,” he said, arousal making him sound harsher than he intended. The color in her cheeks had deepened when he spun her toward him. A sheen of perspiration shone on her brow and upper lip. She was beyond beautiful. He burrowed the ridge of his forefinger into the drenched crevice between her labia. She gasped, but he kept his hand motionless.

“If you want to come, show me,” he demanded.

She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with intense arousal, but he saw her confusion.

“You may come against my hand, but you have to show me you want it. I’m not moving.”