It’s not enough for me, getting her shirtless on the sofa in what used to be her father’s den. It’s not enough, and it’s verging on being too much. Her skin is so soft under my hands that it’s an effort to take my palms away for long enough to test the firmness of her breasts. And Jesus, they’re perfect. 

Her nipples are pebbles beneath the rough lace of her bra, and when I circle them with my thumbs she can’t stop herself from tipping her head back. Ruby’s blonde hair spills down her shoulders, coming loose from whatever clip she was using to hold it behind her head, and the second it’s down I can’t remember what it looked like when it was so tightly bound.

I’d like her to be tightly bound. I’d like to see her with her hands behind her back, her ass in the air, breasts straining toward the fabric of the sofa or bed or floor that she’s kneeling on. I’d like to hear her moan my name, beg me for more, whimper for another orgasm. I’d be all too happy to give it to her.

It’s not the center of my sexual life, dominating women, because most women aren’t arching back on a leather sofa. Most women don’t look at me the way Ruby looks at me, with a combination of strength and vulnerability that’s asking for power to step in, to show her that there’s a space where she doesn’t have to worry. Not about estate sales, not about auctions, not about money. If I were to dominate her, she’d come so hard she wouldn’t remember her name, much less the value of the dollhouse she’s so torn about giving up.

I want more.

I need more.

She does, too. 

She opens her eyes, her breath coming fast and hard, and her arms tighten around my neck.

I lean in, making her shiver with another circle around her nipples, this one agonizingly slow, and press my lips to her neck. Then I raise my mouth to her ear.

“Put your hands down by your sides.”

Ruby bites her lip, and the second it takes her to move her arms is such a beautiful hesitation that my cock twitches in my pants. If I weren’t so invested in what I’m doing to her nipples, I’d put my hands on her wrists and guide them down into place.

But she does it, pressing her palms against the leather surface. Her hips strain toward me, though I don’t think she notices it’s happening. She’s held back by her own pants. Those will be next to go.

“Keep them there.”

“Why?” The question is a breathless word, hardly making a dent in the soft silence of the room.

“Because I told you to.” I nip at her earlobe. “Because in this moment, right now, you’re mine, and I gave you an order.”

She sucks in her breath, and goose bumps rise along the back of my shoulders. This is a risk. It’s a huge risk to say this to Ruby right now, but I’m riding the current in the room and this is where it took me. I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen next. She might stand up and slap me across the face, or she might—

Ruby’s head tips back and she sighs, so deep it’s almost a moan. Her hands stay in place against the seat, and I drag my thumbnails across her nipples, the nails catching on the pattern in the lace. Her hips rock forward again. I don’t reach between her legs. I want to, but I wait. 

There’s nothing holding her in place, which ratchets up the heat in the room a thousand degrees. There’s nothing holding her in place but her desire to do this, and that’s what opens the door. Images flash into my mind of Ruby, writhing with pleasure, and I know that’s the end point. That’s the only thing I’m striving for in this moment, and maybe every other moment from now on.

I drag my lips down the side of her neck, tracing a path to her bra strap, and then I hook one finger underneath and pull it down to her shoulder. I kiss the space on her skin where it used to be. Then I reach behind her and unhook the back.

Her arms are trembling, but there’s one more step I have to take.

Now I do take her wrists in my hands, raising them gently upward until her hands are back on my shoulders.

Her bra is lightweight. There’s almost nothing to it, and I bring it forward with two fingers until she pulls her arms back, finally free.

Holy fuck, she is exquisite.

I can’t help myself.

We crash into each other and she falls back to the surface of the sofa, her back against the leather, her lips parting to let my tongue explore her mouth. Every time we kiss she gives a little more, lets me possess a little more, and it’s infuriating and intoxicating at the same time. It will take a thousand kisses until she’s mine. 

I’m willing to keep going. I’m willing to kiss her that many times, and a thousand more, if that’s what I’m forced to do.

I smile against her mouth, and she pulls back, just an inch, her eyes bright. “What?”

“It’s nothing. You’re fucking perfect.”

“You’re—” She curls forward, her lips pressing into my shoulder. I lift her chin toward me and claim her mouth one more time, swallowing her gasp.

The kiss deepens, turns passionate and fast and hard, and Ruby’s fingernails dig into my shoulders. She’s spreading underneath me, spreading her legs to wrap them around me, and I want so badly to rip her pants off of her completely that I can hardly stop myself.

So I don’t.

I press my lips into her sweet mouth one more time, then push myself off of her, sliding to the floor. Once my knees are firmly against the hardwood I reach for her pants.

Ruby is already sitting up, her hands moving toward my shoulders, and I think she’s bracing to lift herself off the sofa enough for me to get those damn slacks off.

Her hands press against my shoulders, and my fingers are working at the button of her pants, when it happens.

She tenses, her flat stomach pulling away from me an inch.

“Levi...” Her voice is husky, conflicted, tense, like lightning waiting to be released. “Wait.”