Page 89 of Lesson In Forgiveness

She surprised him by reaching back, grasping his cock through his boxers. No, not grasping. That was too tame a word for the tight noose of her fingers fisting his dick, jacking him off through the silky material.

“Tabitha,” he said sharply, breathing hard. The tang of her cunt was fucking addictive, but that stranglehold on his dick was even moreso. “Fuck, girl. That feels so…” His inhale sounded like a growl, throaty and raw. He was supposed to be the Dom here, in charge of the situation, he reminded himself. “Let go, little tiger.”

Those ice-blue eyes bore into his, feverish with panic and arousal. “Tit for tat, said the rabbit to the cat.” Voice rising, she tipped her head back until she exposed her throat in a sleek arch. “Bad, bad cat eating all the cream, wanting the poor little rabbit to scream, scream, scream.”

He was skating on thin ice, coming close to overwhelming her. Getting him off was a way to maintain control when she felt it was spiraling out of reach; as her Dom, he couldn’t allow it. Just as—as he’d known before they got into bed—he couldn’t give in to her demand to fuck her.

Not the way she thought she wanted, anyway.

Running his hand down her arm to her wrist, he tugged her hand away from his cock and secured it at the base of her spine. She bared her teeth at him, tightening her fingers in his hair until his scalp protested; he nabbed that one as well, pulling it down behind her so he collared both of her wrists in one hand.

“Damn right I’m gonna eat all this cream. It’s all mine, right?” The resonance in his voice was dark, commanding, more than he intended. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it, Tabitha? It’s going to come all over my face, my fingers, because I want it to, and you’re a good girl who really wants an orgasm.”

“I-I do?” Bafflement filled her expression before she shook her head in denial. “No. No, one was enough. Doesn’t feel right.” She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering under her breath. “Not a good girl. Not a good girl.”

Grit laid his free hand against her cheek, swamped by a sense of impotency. He didn’t need to read Rita’s goddamn notes again to understand how thoroughly she and her husband had fucked with Tabitha’s head.

“Such a good girl,” he argued. “My good girl, yes? Only my good girl. No one else’s, because no one else matters. You’re wearing my cuffs, little tiger, which means what?”

She leaned her cheek into his palm. “I’m yours.”

“Exactly. When you’re mine, you put your trust in me. All of it. You trust me when I tell you how much of a good girl you are, how you deserve all the pleasure I give you.” He pressed a kiss to her clit, relishing the shudder rippling through her. “And you ride my fucking face like a bronc rider at the fucking rodeo when I ask you to, yes?”

Her hands flexed, but she didn’t struggle. When she opened her eyes again, they were calmer, less frantic, although there were still traces of chaos lingering in the blue. “Yes.”

He hummed low in his throat. “Let’s try that with an honorific thrown in, Tabitha. When I’ve got you like this, it’ll serve as a reminder of how this dynamic works.”

Her brow furrowed. She hesitated before blurting, “Yes… Sir?”

“Perfect.” It was a sensuous purr of approval. “Now, are you going to ride my face, or do I have to pin you down and eat you out with your feet by your ears?”

The blank look of shock on her face was priceless; hopefully, she was imagining how she’d look with those fine legs stretched back toward her head, her pussy open and accessible, because he sure as hell was. “I-I don’t think I’m that flexible.”

“Maybe not,” he said, touching his lips to the inside of her thigh, “but you’ll bend for me, Tabitha. In all the best ways.”

“Bunnies don’t bend too well,” she groused in a sing-song voice. “Bunnies bounce, bunnies hop, bunnies jump—”

Grit rolled his eyes and lifted his head, clamping his mouth over her pussy and putting her rambling to an end. The bunny rant died into a series of hitches in her breathing, trailing off into a shocked moan—just the right pitch, the perfect level of enjoyment, to tell him he’d hit the spot.

*

Tabitha

She couldn’t remember what she’d been saying. What she’d been thinking.

All thought, feeling, awareness was centered on that hated place between her spread thighs and the hot, merciless mouth doing terrible things to it. Terribly wonderful things she couldn’t comprehend.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been in this position. Well, actually, yes, it was—Dominic had never given her a dominant position in bed, and neither had the friends and acquaintances he’d invited to the mansion to fuck her when the thrill of keeping her to himself faded.

She’d always been relegated to the bottom. On her back, on her knees, on all fours with her cheek forced against the floor, burning away the skin as the monster of the moment rutted into her.

This… this was unprecedented. Straddling Grit’s face, her thigh muscles quivering in an effort to keep her sex from literally smothering the man, felt wrong on so many levels, she couldn’t begin to name them.

The soft lave of his tongue through her folds made her core muscles clench. The ease with which it penetrated her told her she was actually wet—which probably shouldn’t come as a surprise, seeing as he was the only man on the planet to whom her body responded honestly.

Her shoulders hunched forward, straining her shoulder joints and arms against Grit’s restraining grip. An odd ah-ah-ah noise bubbled in her throat, awkward and stilted.

She was used to hard teeth and stinging bites, not the attentive strokes of a tongue and the soft suction of his lips around her clit.

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