Page 42 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
I tuck my fingertip under her chin, tilting her face up to make her keep eye contact with me.
“I won adatewith you,” I say firmly. “Nothing more. You don’t owe me anything you wouldn’t give me of your own accord.”
I want everything—and I’llhaveeverything eventually. Regardless of how confident I was that I would claim her tonight, I won’t take what she won’t willingly give. She’ll be mine, down to the very core of her bones, but if tonight isn’t the night that I lay a permanent claim on her, I can live with that. I’ve already marked her as mine to everyone else here.
If she’s not ready to take that step with me, I can wait.
Not for long, but I can wait.
“But what if I wantyou?” she asks nervously, biting her lip. “Am I allowed to ask for that?”
My fingers flex around hers in an instinctive movement as the leash of my self-control pulls unbearably taut. God, she doesn’t even know what she does to me.
She’s so fucking perfect.
“You’re allowed to ask for anything you want, Princess,” I assure her. “And with manners like that, I’m inclined to give you everything you ask for.”
The sweetest smile spreads across her face, enthusiasm radiating out from her as she leans in, my cock twitching with demand at the sight.
“But,” I say, resting my finger over her glossy lips to stop her from asking for anything that will make me lose any semblance of restraint, “I’m going to show you around the rest of the club before you’re allowed to ask for anything else. Deal?”
She nods eagerly, pretty hazel eyes wide and excited. “Deal. I should let Taylor know where I’m going. I don’t want her to worry.”
My eyes flick to the table Taylor and Thomas are at; gold masks close as they chat, hands trailing lazy, teasing touches across fabric and bare skin alike. He’s always had a thing for curvy blondes in red, drawn like a moth to the flame.
“I think your friend is plenty busy,” I say with a grin, nodding at where she and Thomas are practically sitting on top of each other. “Tommy will tell her where we are if she asks.”
Riley glances over her shoulder and snickers softly at the sight.
“Is Tommy the friend you told me about?” she asks.
“The one and only,” I confirm with a playful roll of my eyes. “Your friend is in good hands, Princess. Do you want a tour of the back rooms?”
“I do.”
“Up, then.”
Her breath hitches in excitement as I guide her up off my lap, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her like this. I rise up, not allowing her to step back, simply turning her and guiding her through the crowd toward the entrance to the back rooms. A few of the regulars who recognize me nod, raking their eyes over Riley and raising their glasses in a silent toast to my conquest.
I ignore them aside from a smug grin, leading Riley toward the velvet rope that separates the two sides of The Echelon. The guard there knows me, unclipping the rope and gesturing us through with a respectful nod.
I let Riley fall into step beside me now, pulling her tight to my side and wrapping my arm around her waist as we walk down the hallway. The noises reach us before the sights do, moans and slaps of leather and wood against skin, and pleas and gratitude floating through the air.
The room opens up in front of us, and I keep Riley moving even as she stumbles, her pretty mouth dropping open in surprise as she stares around with wide eyes. Her cheeks go red under her mask as she watches the different displays of debauchery, hardly noticing when I pull her to a halt in the middle of the room.
She jumps at the strike of a paddle on someone’s ass, trembling slightly at the ragged moan of thanks that follows the hit. A harsh swallow makes her throat throb when her eyes fall on the woman blindfolded and strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross, a group of people running their hands over her bare skin, offering pleasure and pain in equal measures. She shifts, squeezing her thighs together at a young man writhing in bliss as his Domme works him over with a riding crop.
I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my chest as I hold her close, laying slow, meandering kisses up the length of her throat.
“What do you think?” I whisper against the shell of her ear.
She laughs breathlessly, arching everywhere I’m touching her like she’s desperate for it.
“It’s… a lot to take in at once,” she admits quietly.
There’s no hiding the desperate arousal in her voice.
It’s exactly what I wanted to hear.
