The rain painted streaks across the glass, the muted city lights beyond glowing faintly in the dark. The room was ours, yet it felt like her territory—her gaze, her energy, her command. She was standing now, close to the window, the discarded emerald-green dress pooling around her feet like some offering. Her hazel eyes held mine, daring me, mocking my restraint.
“You want control,” she said, her voice low, teasing. Her lips curved in a slow smile, wicked and knowing. “But do you even know what to do with it?”
Her challenge struck something deep within me. My jaw tightened, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Instead, I closed the distance between us, taking her wrists in my hands and pinning them against the cool glass behind her. She didn’t resist—no, she smirked, her breath hitching only slightly, her hazel eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“You talk too much,” I murmured, my voice rough with suppressed need. Her lips parted, but before she could respond, I captured them in a hard, demanding kiss. She kissed back just as fiercely, her body arching against mine, but even as she gave, I felt her pulling—teasing, testing the limits of my control.
Her hands twisted slightly against my grip, and I tightened it reflexively. She moaned softly into my mouth, the sound sending a pulse of heat straight through me. When I pulled back, her smile was still there, infuriatingly defiant.
“That’s better,” she whispered, her voice dripping with provocation. “But I don’t think you’re quite ready.”
I stepped back, my grip loosening, and for a moment, she looked victorious. But before she could move, I spun her around, pressing her front against the glass. My hands slid down her sides, slow, deliberate, making her shiver under my touch.
“You think this is a game you can win,” I growled against her ear, my teeth grazing her earlobe. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed back slightly, her body pressing against mine in a way that made my restraint feel like a fragile thread.
Her hair spilled over her shoulders, and I gathered it in one hand, pulling it gently but firmly to tilt her head back. Her reflection stared back at me in the glass, those hazel eyes dark and challenging. She looked utterly unrepentant, even as her lips parted on a quiet gasp.
“You think teasing me will break me?” I said, my voice low and dangerous. My other hand slid lower, tracing the curve of her hip, the softness of her skin. “You’re the one who’s trembling.”
Her laugh was soft, breathless. “Am I?” she whispered. Her tone was still playful, but the way her body reacted betrayed her. I could feel her pulse quicken, the subtle tension in her muscles as I continued to touch her, claiming her in small, measured movements.
I spun her back around, my hands framing her face now, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You’re trying to push me,” I said, my voice barely more than a growl. “But there’s a point where teasing stops being fun.”
Her eyes glimmered, and she bit her lip, the smallest hesitation flickering across her face before her smile returned. “Then push back,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against my chest, slipping lower. “Show me what happens when I lose.”
The challenge in her voice was clear, but so was the undercurrent of need. She was daring me to lose control, to abandon the restraint that I knew drove her mad. And in that moment, with her body pressed against mine, her breath warm against my skin, I knew I was more than ready to show her exactly what it meant to surrender—to me.