Page 54 of Van Cort
“We’ve covered everything else. And it’s a question I didn’t expect to have to ask. Why don’t you like it?”
She folds her arms over each other defensively. “It’s not a question of like. Perhaps I find it a little demeaning. Uncomfortable.”
“Putting your mouth around the most sensitive part of me isn’t demeaning, it’s empowering. You’ll literally have me between your teeth. Come here.” She does, slowly, cautiously. “Drop to your knees for me.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
She looks around. “You’re not serious?”
“Very. Get on with it. Just discussing it with you is making me ravenous.” She smirks, still standing rather than kneeling. “Do I need to get dominant with you?” She smiles but still doesn’t move, assessing her move, or teasing the moment.
I pull her to me sharply, enough pressure in the move that she puffs out a breath and loses the smile. “Knees. Now.” There are a few seconds of her eyeballing me, but her hands reach for my belt soon enough, and she drops her gaze. “Eyes up here. Keep looking at me.” She tugs at the leather, flicks the button on mypants. “All the way through it.” She looks up and starts lowering to her knees. “I want you to watch me buckle for you. Make sure you swallow.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
RIVER
I’ve never particularly liked giving head, but maybe it’s been the men I’ve been with that made me avoid it in the bedroom.
Just like in the hotel room at the casino, his command, his tone, loosened something inside of me, and doing as instructed turned from something I’d rail against to something… sexy.
Dirty, even.
I stand in the hallway, remembering what I did just a few hours ago. I was on my knees in the middle of his family estate. Even the stuffed heads of the animals on the walls were judging me. Anyone could have walked in and seen my mouth full of hiscock, but slowly undoing the man standing above me with each lick of my tongue was enthralling.
Everett said he needed to tend to some business on the estate and said I should get familiar with the surroundings. So I am. I’m marvelling at this place that’s just been boxed up and left, waiting for him to visit.
It’s beautiful. Traditional. It feels like an old hunting lodge, with trophies of elk and other deer species on the walls, not just in the hall. The downstairs has several reception rooms, including a huge dining room, with a dark wooden table that could easily seat twenty people. But while the main furniture has been exposed, there’s still the odd dust sheet and closed door, giving away the fact that this place is barely used.
A relic from his past.
It doesn’t take me long to find my way out into the garden, and I can see that the house has been built in a large clearing, surrounded by tall trees, as if keeping it sheltered from everything and everyone. I do make out a few paths winding up and into the leafy cover, though.
The chill air nips through my sweater, and I wonder if I’ve packed enough warmer clothes. The air is cooler here, fresh and clean.
I go back into the house and continue my exploration, wondering where Everett’s working. My mind thinks over his words from earlier about being serious.
Before this trip, I felt the conviction that I couldn’t trust him start to slip with the concessions he’s been making. Now, with words such as feelings and commitment, I might as well torch whatever’s left of it. And whilst listening to him tell me the condition was doing as I was told made me pause, I know I struggle to stand my ground and not give in to that infuriating need to please. Not because I want to be obedient, but because I have always wanted to fit in, and I’ve learned, rightly or wrongly,that pleasing people is the easiest and most effective way to do that.
So, while I was teasing him when I said I think we’re compatible, it was the truth.
***
“I hope you can cook? I can get the wine.”
I try and keep the shock from my face. “Um, what?”
“Dinner. The kitchen is fully stocked.”
“You want me to cook? You don’t have staff with this place?” I gesture around the huge mansion.
“Staff would be inconvenient for what I have planned for you. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have liked our arrival to be marked with members of the household walking through and watching as you sucked me off from your knees.”
“True.” My face heats. Not just at the thought, but at the edge of command and authority in his voice. It’s like he’s not afraid to say the wrong thing here. Like he’s stopped caring what he should or shouldn’t say. “You’re assuming I can cook.”
“Hoping.” He raises a brow at me, and it’s my turn to smirk.
