Page 13 of Vienna Betrayal

No, he should not kiss her. Her paperwork had specifically prohibited any exchange of fluids.

And kissing was for romance, for lovers.

Instead, he released her and braced his hands on the wall. Then lowered his face to hers, bringing his mouth within inches of her glossy lips.

“I am not a kind man,” he whispered.

“I’m not a nice woman.”

“I would hurt you.”

“Why?”

Her word puffed against his lips. He could smell her breath, a clean scent with an overlay of champagne.

“Because I need to.” It was a simple sentence that ran parallel to the truth, but his truth, the reasons he was the way he was, were not things he talked about. “Because you need me to.”

“And pleasure?” she asked.

“I might make the pain pleasure. If you earn it.” He pulled back, far enough that he could examine her expression.

She was breathing hard, but the cloak had fallen closed, hiding her breasts, so he didn’t get a proper view.

Slowly, he reached for the fabric, giving her plenty of time to move out of the way.

She didn’t.

Alexander grabbed one side, shoving it back behind her left shoulder. Half of her scantily clad body was now on display, and he liked the dichotomy of it, so didn’t bother with the other half of the cloak.

He could feel her watching him, and when he glanced up she once more met his gaze.

“You enjoy being forced,” he said, “to accept punishment.”

“Yes, I do. Something about a man who will keep going, keep doing wicked things to me even if I’m crying and begging him not to… That turns me on.”

His cock twitched in response to her words.

She sighed, and if he hadn’t been so close to her he would have missed her next words. “I want to be topped by the quiet man.”

“The quiet man?”

She looked startled, like she hadn’t expected him to hear that, or maybe hadn’t meant to say it. “I was watching you tonight,” she said slowly. “That’s what I called you in my head.”

His lips twisted at the nickname as he reached for her breast. Cupping it in his palm, he massaged the firm flesh, then ran his thumb across her nipple, rubbing rough lace against soft skin. Her breathing deepened, but remained steady.

Alexander reached down into the corset, fingers sliding between lace and skin. Cupping her breast once more, he lifted it out of the corset. With his other hand he scrunched down the fabric before releasing her breast. Again there was dichotomy, one breast still in the corset, protected by material, and hidden from view. The other now exposed and lifted slightly by bunched fabric.

“I will be rough with you.” Using only his index finger he started to softly stroke the tip of her nipple. It was a feather-light touch to the very tip, but she arched up as if it were a far more forceful caress, even rising onto her toes at one point.

She was incredibly sensitive. That thought only made him want to top her more.

Her half-closed eyes opened. “You’re the Dom I need. I want.”

Being wanted was an aphrodisiac even in normal circumstance—though that was usually tempered by suspicion of ulterior motives in his case. Coming from her, here, the words made him hot.

She didn’t know who he was, how much money he had, and she wanted him. That was a first for him.

He’d also never had a submissive chase him down. Even ignoring traditional gender roles outside of BDSM, in the Orchid Club most of the dominant players were men, the submissives women.

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