Page 95 of here

“I—”

“We can play your little game.” His thumb presses into my lip. “But we play by my rules. And now. Turn. Around.”

My body follows his command on autopilot, my knuckles whitening as I wait, vulnerability and humiliation coursing through my mind. But my body… It thrums with anticipation, desperate for his touch, his control. For the brief oblivion his dominance promises. Oblivion I don’t deserve but crave nonetheless.

Something turns, and the water drains.

My knees press deeper into the bottom of the tub, trying to hide my body beneath the disappearing water as the air hits every newly exposed inch of my skin with goosebumps. I should shiver, but heat courses through me, chasing away any chill as I’m bent at the waist, back arched, ass lifted above the water that now sloshes around my thighs.

Then it stops, the water calming down while my heart explodes.

I’m waiting. Waiting for his touch, but it doesn’t come. The only sound is my own ragged breathing and the tap dripping in staccato beats.

My thighs quiver. I don’t know how long he makes me wait like this, on display. It feels endless.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my nerves, to be patient.

“Good girl.” A warm puff of air tickles my ear from behind.

My eyes snap open. But I stay silent. Waiting again. Needing him to take control because I’m tired of drowning alone.

“You want to forget?” His voice is a low rumble. “Want me to fuck the pain away?”

I nod.

“Use your words, Naomi.” His hand glides up my back, fingers tracing each vertebra. “Tell me what you need.”

“You.” Control me. Make me forget. Make me feel worthy. “I need you.”

“How do you need me?” His hand fists in my hair, his pull deliberate, coaxing a gasp from my lips. “Like this?”

“Yes. Please.”

He nips at my earlobe. “You want me to make you feel good? Make you forget all about dinner and those chips?”

I drop my head forward, slamming my eyes shut to prevent the tears from gathering. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His hand tightens in my hair, forcing my head back again. “Don’t make you face what you’re running from?”

A sob builds in my throat. “I can’t.”

“You can.” His other hand skims down my side, fingers dancing along my ribs. “You’re stronger than you think.”

“I’m not. I’m?—”

“Beautiful.” He kisses my shoulder, slow and purposeful, in a silent promise. “Brilliant.” A kiss to my neck. “Brave. The woman who has me wrapped around her little finger.”

“Brandon, please.” I’m not above begging. Not now. “I need?—”

“I know what you need.” His palm glides over my ass. “But I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”

I try to face him, but his grip in my hair holds me in place. “I am. I’m ready. Just… please.”

His hand comes down on my ass, not hard, making me whimper in pleasure.

“Too much?” He caresses the sting, his fingers a feather-light touch on my skin.

“No.”

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