Page 37
“You’re going to make yourself come on my leg,” I growl. “Ride my thigh until your wetness is all over my pants.”
Her breath hitches. “Domenico, I—”
“Unless you’re going to tell me yes, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut before it gets you into more trouble.”
She tries to argue. I watch her mouth form words, open and close, but her body is already giving her away. The flush spreading down her chest. The way her thighs press together. The wet shine I can see between her legs.
Without another word, she lifts one leg over my thigh and settles herself down. Her bound wrists force her to arch forward, her face coming close to mine.
“Now be a good girl and move,” I rasp.
She rocks her hips once. Twice. Small and experimental motions that make her bite her lip. Then again, harder. She lets out a moan that goes straight to my cock. I don’t move to free my dick.
Not yet. I want to watch this first. I want to feel every fucking inch of her grinding against my thigh, her pussy leaving a wet trail on the wool of my pants. I want her to fucking work for it the way I have to.
Because getting anything real from Kira takes work. Sure, I can order her around, make her obey, and even make her come while barely touching her. But I can’t order her not to fear me. And, fuck, if that hasn’t been driving me insane.
Kira’s both the most infuriating and intriguing person I’ve ever met. Her softness, her almost submissive nature, is such a stark contrast to the stubbornness that appears once she makes up her mind.
I don’t regret what I did to Greg. Not for a fucking second. She married into my world, and the world I rule isn’t built on apologies or second chances. What I hate is the way she looked at me afterward. Like I’d become something she needed to protect herself from.
I’ve never had to care how anyone looks at me before. Fear usually gets me exactly what I want. But not from her—not from Kira. For some reason, the thought of my wife fearing me has been eating at me for three fucking days.
“Oh, God!”
Kira’s moan pulls me out of my thoughts and back to the present.
“Tell me how it feels,” I say.
She shakes her head, her dark hair falling across her face.
“Use your words, Kira.”
“Good,” she whispers.
“Surely you can do better,” I half mock. “If you only feel good, you’re not riding my leg right.”
She rocks harder, her hips finding a rhythm that makes her breath come faster. “It’s… it’s… it’s so intense.”
“Keep going.”
“I’m so wet, and it’s rubbing against me everywhere,” she gasps.
“Good girl,” I praise. “Keep going.”
I watch her face, the way her eyelids flutter, the way her lips part on each exhale. She rides my thigh as if she were made for it, her bound wrists pulling her forward, her breasts bouncing with each thrust.
The wet sound of her pussy against my pants fills the room, and I can feel the heat of her through the fabric, the way her clit catches on the fold and makes her jerk.
“Tell me how close you are,” I demand.
“Close,” she pants. “So close, I can’t… Domenico, I’m going to…”
“Mmm,” I growl. “Close your eyes and tilt your head back. Let yourself go.” My words have the desired effect, and this time, she follows my command with zero hesitation.
As soon as her eyes are closed, I reach for my belt. Kira’s hips stutter and her breath catches. She’s right there, teetering on the edge, her whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“Come on my leg like the good girl you’re pretending to be,” I command as I raise my hands.
