Page 50 of Hers to Command

“You need me,” he finishes for me, and the smug satisfaction in his tone only stokes the fire in me.

Finally, he presses the toy to my clit again, the vibrations intensifying as his fingers slip inside me. I try to ride his hand, but he pulls on the chain connecting the nipple clamps and I cry out in pain instead. Only, the pain sends my nerves into a sizzling frenzy, and it’s impossible to tell if it’s bad or good.

The blindfold stays snug over my eyes, forcing me to feel instead of watch. His lips brush over my neck, leaving a trail of heat. I tense as his hands skim my stomach, teasing just above the area of where I want him most.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you like this, Anya? I see a woman who’s strong enough to rule a city but still needs someone to remind her of what surrender feels like.”

I bite my lip, trying not to let his words worm their way deeper. But I can’t stop the way my body betrays me, responding to his touch as he slides one hand down to grip my hip. The vibrator presses against me again, harder this time, and I whimper when the sensations spike.

I don’t like men controlling my life, but hell, I think I like men controlling my body just fine. Or at least this man.

Riccardo.

“You’re close again,” he says knowingly. His fingers brush the chain between the clamps, sending a sharp jolt through my chest that mingles pain with pleasure. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

“Riccardo,” I gasp, because let’s be real, I’m no longer in a state to form full sentences.

“You’ll get what you need,Tesoro,” he murmurs, withdrawing the vibrator just enough to make me ache for its return. “But first, I want to make sure you understand something.”

The bed shifts beneath us, and I feel his weight pressing me down again. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them wider as his mouth trails lower, the rasp of his stubble sending sparks of sensation across my skin.

“You think you’re in control, Anya.” His tone is soft, almost conversational, but there’s a dangerous edge beneath it. “You think you can walk into meetings, make your plays, and keep me at arm’s length. But when you’re like this? Bound, begging, dripping for me? That’s when you’re truly mine.”

My breath catches, a protest forming on my lips, but it dies as he slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right. His other hand tugs lightly at the chain, and I arch into the dual sensations, a moan escaping me despite myself.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he says, his voice low and full of promise. “Not just tonight, but every time I touch you. Until you forget how to think about anyone else but me.”

The vibrator is back, relentless against my clit as his fingers work me closer and closer to the edge. The blindfold somehow amplifies my awareness of every one of his movements until I’m trembling, teetering on the brink of my orgasm.

“Riccardo, I—”

“Not yet,” he growls, pulling everything away at the last second. My cry of frustration echoes through the room, and I hear him chuckle darkly.

I want to fucking punch him, but I doubt I have enough energy left in me to move so much as a muscle.

His hand slides to my stomach, his fingers splaying wide across my body. “Do you know how good you’d look pregnant?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “I never thought about having kids. My father was an asshole. But I like the idea of branding you as mine. You’d be fucking beautiful carrying my child and I’ll need an heir, eventually. The mess your father left things in is a pretty good reminder of that. I could knock you up and secure the future of everything we’re building together.”

I can’t breathe. The heat pooling in my core turns molten, his words igniting something primal that I can’t ignore.

“You’d hate it,” he continues, his fingers sliding back inside me. “Hate how much control it would give me over you. And yet...” He twists his hand, his thumb brushing over my clit with maddening precision. “I think you’d love it even more.”

I hate him for how much I want it. Hate him for how much his words make me crave something I didn’t even realize was buried inside me.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough now, the teasing edge gone. “Say you’re mine, Anya.”

“No,” I whisper, the word trembling on my lips. But the way my body arches into his touch, the way I chase the release he keeps denying me, exposes my lie.

“You hate how much you want me,” he counters, and then the vibrator is back, unrelenting as he drives me to the brink one more time.

The release is shattering when he finally lets me plunge over the edge. The orgasm rips through me in waves so intense I can’t stop the sob that escapes my throat. He doesn’t let up, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until I’m a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him.

As the cuffs are unfastened and the blindfold is removed, Riccardo moves over me and positions his cock at my entrance. I stare him down as he plunges into me, refusing to close my eyes.

“You’re mine, Anya,” he says and, for the first time, I don’t argue. Because for tonight, at least, he’s right.

Chapter Twenty-One

Anya

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