Mick tightened his arms around her. “Jesus, baby. Poor girl.”

She shook her head—or tried to, which was difficult being held so hard against his muscled shoulder. “Don’t, Mick.”

“Don’t what? Feel bad that you had to go through that?”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t feel sorry for myself. Life happens, right? Everyone’s gone through something difficult.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But not that.” His voice was rough. “No one should have to go through that. I get that you’d probably carry those feelings with you through your life. And I guess I get how you might have felt the same way when I didn’t call you, that it would have been a trigger. If I’d known more . . . maybe . . .”

They both let the sentence fade and quiet descend as they held each other.

It had felt good to tell him, somehow. And bad, like opening an old wound that would now have to grow a new scab. But if things were going to continue between them, she was going to have to get used to being vulnerable with him. It was different with Mick than it was with the other Doms she’d played with, the men she’d had relationships with. Mick knew her in ways no one else did, and that made the rawness all the more wide open. She didn’t like that part.

She sniffed, rubbed at the makeup that had undoubtedly run under her eyes.

“Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me something now?” she asked.

“What?”

“I sort of feel like I’ve just laid my soul out to you on a platter, and I’d feel a lot better if you did a little of the same with me.”

He shifted her in his arms so he could see her face.

“Really? That’s the only thing that’ll make you feel better?” he lowered his voice an octave. “What about this?”

He leaned in and kissed her softly, his lips pressing to hers, then pressing again, gently, sweetly.

“That’s nice, too,” she admitted.

“Tell me if this is any better.”

He kissed her again, this time teasing her lips open with his tongue. He slid the tip of his tongue between her lips, giving her just a taste before pulling away. Cupping her face in his hands he did it once more, this time sliding in farther, pulling back, doing it again, a lovely tease that built desire in her body like a slowly heating flame. She couldn’t help but moan. Couldn’t help the way her body—her need—betrayed her.

There would be time to talk later. For now, there was Mick. She’d never been able to resist.

CHAPTER Nine

HIS HANDS SLID down to her shoulders, and he kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck, as he slipped her tank top over her head. One strong arm wrapped around her back and he unhooked her bra, and that came off, too. His mouth was on hers once more as he pulled her in close, sliding down into the sheets with her. He held her in his arms, their bodies pressed close, until she could feel his erection against her belly. The gears had shifted, her mind emptying out, her body filling with desire, her sex aching and wet.

“Here, baby girl,” he said, kicking his way out of his sweats, then helping her slide her underwear off before rolling her onto her back and climbing on top of her.

God, his body felt so damn good, the weight of him pressing her down. He folded her fingers into his, raised her arms over her head and held her there while he kissed her, teasing her with lips and tongue and teeth while his hard cock pressed into her abdomen, his hard thigh pressing against her swollen mound.

“Come on, Mick,” she begged.

“Shh, baby. Just lie here and take it for now.”

No, she’d never been able to resist him. Certainly not his command. Her body responded even before her brain did, her muscles going lax.

“Perfect,” he murmured before bending to kiss her neck, to bite there. Then lower until his teeth were grazing her nipple, making it go hard, making her muscles go limp with need.

His teeth grazed her skin as his mouth traveled all over her breasts—light nibbling at first that gradually built to harder nips. The bites were quick, leaving tiny shots of pain behind, creating a lancing pattern of sensation all over her breasts. Her nipples were so damn hard they hurt, aching to be touched. Begging for the pain.

He moved down her side, over her rib cage, down to the tender skin at her waist. He bit her there hard, his teeth sinking in, making her yelp.

“Oh!”

“Does this hurt you, baby?” he asked, his voice muted, his mouth a breath away from her body.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“But you like it?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Do you want more? Tell me.”

“Yes, please, Mick.”

He kissed the sore spot where he’d last bitten her, making her sigh with pleasure. “Your skin tastes like fucking heaven, baby girl. I’m going to bite you hard now. I’m going to eat you up. And you must hold very still for me. Don’t make me tie you up. If you do, there will be consequences.”

Consequences.

Oh . . .

Her sex clenched, went soaking wet at the thought.

He bent and sank his teeth hard into her flesh, right at the curve of her waist, and she had to breathe through the pain. It was exquisite, searing, and followed quickly by a lovely rush of endorphins. He bit again, a little higher—the fragile skin over her ribs—and this time the pain was more severe. She gasped, tried to breathe through it.

“You can take it. Come on, baby. For me.”

She nodded, forced her body to calm, waited for the next bite.

This time it was the underside of her breast, and he bit down hard.

“Ah, God!”

Her fingers dug into the bedclothes until her knuckles ached, but somehow she managed not to move as she struggled between her body’s natural instinct for flight and the desire to please, between the pain and the shimmering, tenuous pleasure of the chemicals beginning to seep into her brain.

He held on, her flesh gripped between his sharp teeth, and the pain threatened to overwhelm her.

“Mick . . .”

He bit harder, and a tear slid down her cheek. She was panting, trying to convert the pain to pleasure. After a few difficult moments it worked, and she was rewarded by a flood of endorphins. She went limp with it, let her body process the intense pain and the even more powerful pleasure. The powerful sensation of Mick doing these things to her. The lovely, sweet sensation as he lapped at the bite with his soft tongue.

He finally pulled away and knelt over her, looking down at her. He didn’t say anything, but she knew from his expression he was pleased with her. He urged her thighs wide apart with his. She was weak with her need for him. Aching with wanting.

He reached between her thighs, and she arched her hips as his fingers slid into her.

“Love this, baby girl,” he murmured. “Love how damn wet you get. I want to be inside you. To fuck you. And I will.”

He pressed down on one of her thighs with his hand, hard and hurting, and spread her even more, left his hand there, the pressure letting her know he was completely in control. With his other hand he began working her clit, rubbing, tugging, pinching, then moving to push his fingers inside her and pumping a few times before going back to her swollen clitoris.

“Hold still, baby,” he demanded.

She did her best. But pleasure was building inside her, making her dizzy. Finally, she couldn’t take it and she arched her hips hard against his hand. He immediately pulled back.

“Ah, now you know that won’t do, princess.”

He pushed himself off her and leaned over her, reached under the center of the mattress at the top of the bed and pulled up a length of black rope. He pulled her arms up over her head and tied her wrists together so fast she didn’t have time to consider what he was doing. But she instantly sank into the sensation of safety in the arms of his ropes. Her head really began to empty out, and she was vaguely aware of how much easier it would be to take the pain and the orgasm control if she were bound.