“Summer Grace,” he said, his tone firm. His cock was even firmer. “Are you going to behave?”

“Yes,” she gasped, even as she continued to struggle in his grasp.

He just held her tigther as he walked with her through the old house until he reached the kitchen. Without bothering to turn the lights on—there was enough moonlight coming through the high window over the sink—he started opening drawers.

“Do you have any zip ties?” he asked.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“Is that a yes?” he demanded.

“In the junk drawer. Next to the stove.”

He yanked the drawer open and saw a bundle of them. “Black. Perfect.”

“For what?”

He laid her roughly on the kitchen table, holding her down with a hand on one shoulder. “Do you really think this is the time to ask me questions?”

She bit her lip. “Um . . . No.”

“Good girl.”

Even in the pale moonlight, he could see the sheen of subspace gleaming in her blue eyes at the words. He knew they did something to her. Hell, it did something to him to say them. Especially to her. Because she was his.

He looked down at her, drinking in her beauty, the struggle still evident in the set of her lovely mouth. He’d rid her of that rebellious streak quick enough.

Taking her delicate wrists in his hands, he drew her arms to either side—then he stopped and grinned at her. “It fucks with your head when you can’t see what I’m going to do next, doesn’t it, sugar?”

“Yes, Jamie.”

“Shall I blindfold you, then?”

“Um . . . is that a trick question?”

He grinned. “Yes.”

Flipping her over onto her stomach, he drew one wrist down and slipped the zip tie around it, then around the table leg, locking it tight. Before doing the same to the other wrist, he grabbed the scissors from her knife block and set them close by on the counter in case she panicked and he had to get her out quickly. Once he had her securely bound, he pushed the satin chemise up slowly, allowing himself to enjoy her smooth buttocks, the curve of her tiny waist, the small, rhythmic movements of her body as she pulled in one deep breath after another. When he laid a hand between her shoulder blades, he could feel those heavy breaths, and knew her well enough to understand she was taking herself down further into subspace. But the wicked streak in him didn’t want her to center herself. He wanted her off-balance, wanted to fuck with her head a little. Because he needed it. Because she loved it.

He lifted both hands, paused, and slapped them down hard on her buttocks.

“Ow!”

Without warming her up or giving her time to ride out the pain, he did it again, then again and again, until his palms stung, until he felt her skin welting and she was making little mewling sounds between gasping breaths. She was squirming hard on the table, and he paused to massage her wrists, to be sure the zip ties weren’t cutting into her flesh, but they seemed fine. He leaned over her until he could feel the heat of her ass cheeks against his belly, loving that they were so hot because of his hands on her flesh—that he’d done that to her. That she took it for him.

She let out a small sigh—or a small sob, he couldn’t tell—as he kissed the back of her neck. He kissed his way down her spine, pausing to move the crumpled chemise out of the way. When he’d worked his way down to her beautiful ass, he bit into the sore flesh.

“Jesus, Jamie!”

In answer he did it again, harder this time, then immediately pinched her in the same spot.

“Ah! Fuck!”

“But you love it,” he murmured. “Tell me you love it, Summer Grace.”

“I don’t. I could kick you, you know,” she said stubbornly, making him chuckle.

His laughter died as he slipped his hand between her thighs, found her as wet as he’d known she’d be. He slid two fingers right inside her, his cock jumping when he felt the velvet clench of her pussy.

“Oh, really? You don’t love it? Try it again, sweetheart.” He smacked her ass hard with his free hand, smiling in the half-dark when he heard her gasp. “Only this time get the answer right.”

“I don’t love it,” she said as her body moved, her hips grinding onto his fingers.

He thrust up into her, hard and fast.

“Okay! But Jamie . . . I don’t just love it. I need it.” She groaned. “God, I need it.”

“Good girl.”

He picked up a metal spatula he’d placed within reach when he got the scissors out and smacked her ass with it hard enough to leave a visible mark—a rectangle of red on her tender flesh. He ran a hand over the sore spot, leaned down and placed a kiss on the mark. She breathed out a sigh, such a beautiful sound. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making that sound come from her lips, then kissing the pain away.

He straightened up. What the fuck had he just said to himself?

The twisting he’d felt in his chest all week bloomed into a frightening heat he tried to swallow down.

Love this girl.

No.

Just play her. Play her hard. Fuck her hard. It’ll be okay.

He focused on her gorgeously welted skin, using it to focus him once more before smacking her with the spatula again on the other cheek, and she cried out. Again he bent to kiss the sore spot—he couldn’t help himself—then he ran his tongue over it.

“Mmm.”

He pulled back and slapped the metal tool down hard on her damp skin, knowing it stung like mad.

“Oh, God!”

He did it over and over, moving from one lovely cheek to the other as he fought down that twisting sensation, then rained blows over the backs of her thighs, hard enough that he felt the echo of the impact reverberate in his wrist. He still had his other hand inside her sweet pussy, and the more he hurt her, the wetter she got. He stopped to concentrate on pumping his fingers inside her, angling them to hit her G-spot, and her juices pooled on his hand even before she came, screaming his name, her body shuddering.

His cock was so damn hard he could barely stand it.

That’s right. Focus on the sex. Just fuck her.

He reached for the scissors and cut the zip ties. Then, tearing off the jeans he’d pulled on long enough to answer the door for the food delivery earlier, he pulled her body down, forcing her legs apart. He took his heavy cock in his hand and plowed into her.

“Oh, yes, Jamie.”

With one hand on her hip and the other buried in her hair, pulling her head up until her slender neck was high off the table, beautifully elongated, he rammed into her, burying his cock deep. He did it again, and again, the physical pleasure warring with emotion for dominance. But he was out of control already—he knew it. Finally, he gave himself over, letting her hair go to wrap one arm around her waist and pulling her hips up as he thrust into her. He allowed the warmth to flood his chest as sensation made his cock go unbelievably rigid inside her body.

Her beautiful body that belongs to me, as I belong to her.

His stomach went tight, and he knew he was doing this wrong.

“Fuck, Summer Grace.”

“Jamie?”

He pulled out of her long enough to turn her over, to pull her upright, picking her up and pressing her back into the wall as he pushed inside her once more. Her arms went around his neck, her legs wrapping around his waist.

Yes, just right.

He slung his hips, driving deeper as he kissed her throat, his fingers digging into her buttocks. But it wasn’t about causing pain this time. It was simply about his need for her.

“Baby,” he murmured, his breath catching. “Need you, baby.”

Her voice was a quiet sob. “I need you, Jamie.” Her arms tightened around his neck.

He kissed her hard—and kissed the darkness inside her he’d never dared hope might be there. His mind buzzing, he drove into her harder, needing to go deeper. Her pussy was hot and sweet, her mouth hotter, sweeter. She was driving him crazy, his body, his mind, and he found himself unable to process what he was feeling. Exquisite pleasure. Burning emotion. His body poised on that edge as he waited for her to come again. He surged into her in slow, sinuous movements, keeping his pelvis close to hers, and soon he felt her insides squeeze him as she gasped and moaned.