Page 31 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

Her mouth falls open, and I know I’m right. “We’re connected, Clara. Can’t you feel it? At first, I thought it was just sexual.” So much of it is, but that’s not what has me abandoning the bourbon and going to her now. “The way your body responds to mine. How it feels when I’m inside you. But it’s more than that. I know you feel it.”

She swallows hard, as affected by our nearness as I am. “Why even bring it up? You don’t do commitment, remember?”

“I remember.” Fuck. She has me there. To be honest, I don’t even know what I’m saying. What is it that I want from Clara Bishop? “I don’t understand it either. I don’t even know why I’m explaining myself to you—”

“Because you want exclusivity, remember? You demanded it from me! But apparently not from yourself!”

“Do you think I fucked her?” I take a step closer, pleased with how her body seems to angle toward mine despite how pissed off her suggestion makes me. Does she think I would do that? Go back on our agreement?

“If it walks like a fuck and talks like a fuck,” she spits back, recalling our earlier argument.

She has trust issues. That makes two of us, and I can think of only one way to solve that problem.

“I don’t lie, Clara,” I murmur so that she has to listen closely. I want her to hear this next bit. “And if you accuse me of doing so, I will take you over my knee.”

Her eyes widen, her mouth forming a surprised O as she backs away from me a little too slowly to be entirely believable.

“You’d like that,” I say, moving toward her, eager to close the space between us. “I see it in your eyes—the hunger.”

Clara’s hand flies up, but it’s a shaky barrier. I catch it and bring it to my lips, kissing it once and savoring how she trembles.

“I’ll never lay a finger on you without your permission, but the sooner you accept the truth, Clara, the better.”

“What truth?” Her question is forced because she already knows the answer.

“You want to submit to me. You want me to tell you what to do with that sweet little mouth. The way your body responds to mine. It wants to be controlled. Dominated. You want to be dominated. You’re so incredibly strong, Clara.” I trace the flat plane of her stomach and feel her muscles constrict. “But you need to lose control. You want to.”

She shakes her head, but her words are turned inward. “No, I don’t.”

“You’ll be safe with me.” I will protect her. She has to see that. Pulling her toward me, I wrap my arms around her, hoping she can feel the truth of it. “I’ll never take you further than you can handle, but I will take you to the edge. I will give you more pleasure than you ever thought possible.”

Her throat slides, and I wonder if she’s swallowing back a yes or a no. I can see her fighting with herself, and every ounce of me wants to release her from that struggle—to give her the bliss she can only know under my domination.

“I’m not like that,” she says in a small voice.

I refuse to allow her to turn away. Staring into her eyes, I will her to see what I’m offering her. “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you. Release. My only thought is of your pleasure. When you give yourself to me, I take that responsibility seriously, Clara.”

She turns as though my gaze burns her. “What are we talking about? Ropes and safe words?”

An image of Clara bound in red rope flashes through my mind, and it’s all I can do not to throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the bedroom.

Yes, I want ropes and safe words. I want to paint her ass red with my hands. I want to watch her slip into a place where all she knows is my touch.

“Small steps, Clara, but yes. A safeword is a necessity. For now, I want you to trust me. I want you to trust that I will give you pleasure.”

“And you’ll punish me too?” she asks. “Threaten to spank me if I misbehave?”

“Only when you don’t trust me.” Which won’t be an issue for long, not once she gives in. I know I can show her. “Without trust, you can’t give me control, Clara, and then we can’t have what we both need.”

“You mean what you want!” Her voice pitches up to the verge of hysterical.

“Need,” I say firmly, “What you need.”

“I… don’t…” She shakes her head like the words are stuck.

“Yes, you do.” How can I make her see this? I feel it in her. It draws me to her. As much as I want this—as much as I crave the submission of her body—I long to see her free more. “Let me show you.”

She pulls away. This time shaking her head with rejection as her eyes grow wet. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”