Roth pushed his finger in deeper, and a gasp was torn from me. I felt full, felt his thick finger penetrating me, creating a boiling well of fiery pressure at my core. A faint tinge of desperation touched me. He flicked my nipple, pulled his finger back, and my stomach muscles contracted, my hips rolling of their own accord. Another push, deeper now. Most of his finger had to be inside me now. I gritted my teeth to hold back the gasps and moans that threatened at my lips. He withdrew almost all the way, and then slid in again, repeating the motion, and I had to exert every ounce of will to stop myself from moving with him. His finger f**ked my ass**le in smooth, slow strokes, and his hand caressed and kneaded and pinched at my breast and ni**les, and I was growing needy, feeling frantic. I needed more than this. I needed him. I needed him to put his fingers in my pu**y, I needed his cock, I needed his mouth, I needed something. What I got, though, was desperation flooding through me, his finger in my ass bringing me to the verge of a dark and primal climax.

And then…he stopped. Pulled his finger out of me, left me bent over in the middle of his bedroom. I straightened and pulled my feet back together, gasping, frantic and angry with need and frustration and shame, aching, and watched him go through a door, where I heard water running as he washed his hands.

I shook all over, hair messed up, lip throbbing where I’d nearly bit through it. I tried to gather myself, to compose myself, but it was a vain effort. Roth sauntered back toward me, a slight grin curving his lips. He stopped in front of me. Waited, eyes searching me.

“Anything to say?” he asked. I could only shake my head. “No?”

I needed him to finish me, but he wouldn’t, and I knew it. That was his ploy. I was pissed off, too, feeling degraded. Bent over in the middle of his room, finger-fucked in the ass, all to get me to admit he was in control? Left hanging? Doucheknob.

I turned away from him, knelt to gather my clothes.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I heard Roth say behind me. “You don’t get away that easily.”

He wrapped an arm under my middle, lifted me bodily, scooped his other arm under my knees, and flipped me to my back, catching my head with the crook of his arm. I writhed in his grip, pissed off at his behavior and now at his brazen manhandling of me.

I stilled, realized struggling was futile, settling instead for glaring at him, spitting fire from my eyes. He only grinned at me, carrying me to his bed. He tossed me like a doll, and I bounced on the soft mattress. Before I could so much as blink, he was on top of me. I caught my breath as his mouth crashed down on mine. I forgot to struggle as the surprising heat and tenderness of the kiss caught me off guard. My hands stole up to his back, grabbed at him, but he pulled away and caught both my wrists in one hand, held my hands over my head, and then resumed the kiss.

“Is this where you wanted to be, Kyrie? Naked, beneath me, in my bed?” He whispered, his lips moving against mine. “Well, here you are. A few moves, and I’d be inside you.”

My mouth quivered against his. “Yes….” Fucking stupid desperate ho, I chastised myself. I was exactly where I wanted to be, and exactly where he wanted me. Flushed, aroused, desperate, naked. But it had happened on his terms, and he was winning.


“If I let one of your wrists go, will you do what I tell you?” I nodded, and he released one of my hands. “Good. Unzip me.”

I undid his pants, reached into his underwear, and freed his heavy cock. I almost came just from the feel of his thick shaft in my hand, knowing he was inches from my core, seconds from satisfying me the way I needed.

“Push my pants down.” I did so, shoving his pants and underwear down around his thighs.

I held my breath as he lowered his hips, touched the broad head of his c**k to my entrance. I bit my lip, watching his expression tighten, harden, eyes narrow, and then he pushed in. I wanted to weep. It was just the tip, but it spread me apart, filled me already. I gasped in relief, threading my hand between our bodies to grasp his erection by the root, my knuckles against his body, holding him, pulling him toward me.

“Kyrie….” he growled. “You’re so f**king tight.”


He growled again, a wordless rumble in his chest. He grabbed my hand and pulled it away, caught both of my hands in one of his again. And then pulled out of me, sitting back on his haunches.

I did cry out then. “NO! Valentine, please—” I bit off my words, realizing his game.

“Say it, Kyrie.”

I closed my eyes. I ached. I’d had him inside me, and that brief moment of fullness had been glorious, a fragmentary glimpse of what it would be like with him inside me. I wanted it. I needed it. I felt something inside me give way, capitulating. “You, Valentine. You are in control.”

He leaned over me, kissed me. “Good. Don’t forget it.” And then he was rolling off the bed, tugging his pants back in place.

“Wait! I thought—”

He turned to face me. “Not yet, Kyrie. Not that, not yet.” He put his hand in his pocket and adjusted himself. “I’m torturing myself just as much, you know. But do you remember what I told you when you first met me?”

I closed my eyes. “That I’d beg you for it.” I opened my eyes and pinned him with an angry glare. “I did, Roth. Just now. Last night. I asked. I told you I wanted it. I’ve played your game. If you knew me at all, you’d know how hard that was for me. But you’re still playing goddamn games.”

He took a step toward the bed. “You tried to make it happen on your terms, love. That’s not how this works.” His eyes roved over my naked body. “You’re frustrated, aren’t you?”

I nodded, pressing my thighs together. “You know I am.”

“You have two choices, in this moment. You can ask me to make you come, right now, with my hand. Or you can wait until I’m ready. Tonight, if all goes well.” He moved to sit on the bed beside me.

I sat up, pressing my knees together and folding my legs to one side, using my arm as a bra. “Why tonight? What’s so special about tonight?”

“Nothing in particular.” He shrugged, tracing the line of my leg from heel to hip with a finger. “I’ve dreamed of that moment, Kyrie. The moment when I take you. Would you like to hear the dream?”

I nodded. “Yes. Tell me, please.”

He let out a long breath. “It’s at night. This room is dark, lit by candles. You have lingerie on. Something red and silky. I’ve got you tied up. Not tight, just a scrap of lace around your wrists. You’re lying here, right where you are, and you’re looking at me with those soft blue eyes of yours. You’re so bloody beautiful, Kyrie. All wrapped up like a gift. Just begging me with your eyes to tear the clothes off you. You can’t hold still, because you want me. I make you wait, though. And when you can’t take it anymore, you open those sweet plump lips and speak, and your musical voice fills my room. You ask me to make love to you. You don’t beg, because that’s beneath you. You merely…ask. And you reach for me. Your quick, soft little hands peel my clothes off me and you pull me down to you, and you kiss me. And when I slide my c**k into your tight wet cunt” —his voice lowers, rasps, and I gasp at the way he emphasizes that dirty, unexpected word “—you make such sweet little sounds. You wrap yourself around me with your arms and legs, and you don’t let go until I’m buried deep inside you.”