Page 6 of Lovesick

He exhaled a slow breath, as if savoring the moment. “Come here.”

I stiffened. “Dean—”

“I wasn’t asking, kitten.”

His voice was pure command, and my body reacted before my mind could catch up. I betrayed myself more often than I would ever admit. My fingers curled into fists at my sides as I resisted the pull, the deep-rooted instinct to obey him. But I couldn’t resist for long. I stepped forward, my heartbeat picking up pace as I got closer to his desk.

When I stopped, his eyes darkened even more. He leaned back in his chair again, placing his hands on the armrests. With his head tilted back, he ordered, “Get on your knees.”

I frowned. “What?”

“Get on your knees,” he repeated, his jaw tight.

I looked at his large desk in front of me, then let my eyes wander down my body. The skirt I was wearing wasn’t meant to kneel. It was too tight, and it would ride up as soon as I crouched down. But when I looked at him again, and saw the pure lust in his eyes, I went weak in my knees.

They hit the ground shortly after, my gaze still fixed on his.

Fire ignited in his gaze, watching me closely as I followed all of his commands. “Now, crawl to me, kitten.”

My thighs clenched and my clit throbbed in response to his words. I hated his mouth as much as I loved it. Not just because of the things he said, but also because of the things he did to me with it.

I opened my mouth, unsure why I even thought of protesting. I didn’t want to fight him anymore. I wanted to do everything he told me to. God, I was right back where I had been a few weeks ago, before I decided to push him away. Weak wasn’t the right word to describe how completely and utterly undone I felt. It wasn’t just weakness, it was surrender. A slow, aching collapse into the inescapable pull of him.

Dean watched me, his expression hard, intense, and I could feel the weight of his control pressing down on me. He knew. Of course, he knew. He always did.

My hands pressed against the cool floor, and I moved forward, each shift of my body a mix of resistance and longing. He hadn’t moved a muscle, still leaning back in his chair, watching me with those dark, unforgiving eyes. The silence between us was thick, almost suffocating, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

I crawled toward him, moving underneath his large desk. In a way, this was degrading. But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t like it. It was sick, in a way, having a man be so deeply in control over me, but I simply couldn’t help it. I tried. I truly tried. But trying to stay away from him was the hardest thing I had ever done.

When I finally reached him, I knelt in front of him between his legs. Looking up at him, I waited for his next command. Dean’s lips parted, his gaze dropping to where I knelt before him. He seemed to savor the moment, the dominance he held over me evident in the slight curl of his lips. “You think you’re still in control, Emilia?”

I quickly shook my head. I wasn’t. We both knew it, but he had to mock me about it. I didn’t tear my gaze away from his. “No,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I never was.”

“Good,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You’ve finally come to your senses.”

A shiver ran through me as I waited, aching for whatever he would demand next. I was caught between defiance and desire, and as much as I wanted to hate him for it, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not when he had me this way.

Dean sat up straight and reached out one hand to cup my cheek. His touch was featherlight at first, his fingers tracing a line from my cheekbone down to my chin. Then, he cupped my jaw and pressed his fingertips and thumb into my cheeks, squeezing hard until my lips puckered.

He leaned down, bringing his face close. His lust-filled eyes were still on mine, and I held my breath to prepare for what he did next. His gaze dropped to my mouth before his lips pressed onto mine. He forced my mouth to open wider with the pressure of his fingers, and his tongue dipped inside hungrily, swirling around mine.

He released his grip just enough to let me kiss him back but he kept his fingers right there so that I couldn’t move away. Not that I wanted to, anyway.

A protesting moan escaped me when he pulled back, releasing my face, and giving me an intense look. I could feel the imprint of his fingers still on my skin as he leaned back and reached for his belt buckle. He ripped it open with impatience, then freed his cock from his pants.

“Eyes on me, kitten,” he demanded. “You can look at my cock when I say you can.”

I bit the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from arguing. We had played this game before, and whenever I talked or fought back, he punished me by sending me away without hesitation. I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted this, even if I’d regret it.

“Look at you,” he murmured.

I could see his hand moving up and down his shaft out of the corner of my eye, and it took all the strength I had in me not to look down. I had always loved watching him please himself. Even if it didn’t happen often or for too long, those were moments I remembered most. Him watching me while he touched himself.

The idea of my face being enough for him to get turned on made me feel powerful. I didn’t have to be naked to get him hard, and oftentimes, he ordered me to keep my eyes on him while he came.

My breath hitched as he reached out with his right hand. He cupped my jaw and pressed his thumb against my chin, pulling it down to open my mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. But you already know that, don’t you?”

I gave him a small nod. It wasn’t arrogance that made me feel confident about my appearance. It was my parents and their beauty which they blessed me.

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