His words are sweet, but also oddly scary.

  "I knew I should be careful with you," I say.

  He shrugs. "Yes, be careful. It might be for the best."

  "You should know, though," I add. "Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work with me."

  He smirks at me. "No? What do you think I am trying to do?"

  "You just said it! You want to break me. You want to make me lose control. But that's not what I do. I don't lose myself to guys. Never."

  His smile broadens. He pulls me in closer, wrapping his other arm around my waist and pressing my naked body against his as he claims me with another kiss.

  His kisses are so greedy, so possessive – and irresistibly hot. I cannot help but moan and squirm as his tongue invades my mouth. My body and mind are fighting a battle they are bound to lose.

  Fuck, why is this so hot? Why is he so damn compelling?

  I am panting helplessly, desperate with longing, when he releases me.

  And, of course, he is displaying that triumphant little smile I have come to loathe so much. So freaking handsome. It drives me mad.

  "Don't worry," he whispers. "I know you're hard to conquer. It only makes me want to break you more."

  Well, great. Exactly what I wanted to hear.

  I clear my throat and adjust myself, gently pushing him away from me, as he continues embracing me in a tight grip. He lets it happen, but not without giving me another smug smile.

  "Why are you saying these things?" I ask. "Wanting to break me, to make me lose myself. Why are trying to get into my head so much, especially when you made it clear that you're not looking for a relationship?"

  "A relationship in the common sense, yes," he clarifies. "I don't want you to do my laundry or stand next to me while we're washing the dishes. But if you are to become my sub, you will be mine but in a different sense."

  He pauses and gently strokes my cheek with the tip of his index finger, and I look up at him in anticipation.

  "Be yours," I breathe softly.

  "Yes," he confirms. "You would be mine. Mine to take care of, mine to please, mine to spoil – and mine to punish and –"

  "Pfft, you are pretty full of yourself, mister," I interrupt, laughing at him.

  He stops moving for a second, his index finger still resting on my cheek. I hold my breath as a weird tension consumes the air between us. His smile has disappeared and he looks at me with that stern, unyielding face again.

  I am about to apologize for my sassy statement, when he bends down and, pulling me in close with one arm while he uses the other to push my face to the side, exposes my neck to him.

  I yelp in surprise when his teeth find my skin and he starts sucking and biting on the lower side of my neck.

  "No!" I object. "Stop it! It hurts!"

  Instead of letting go, his bite intensifies, causing tears to run down my face as I try to process the unexpected pain and confinement he is subjecting me to. My body is twisting beneath him, trying to get away from his unyielding grip, but instead of winning leeway, he just pins me down more firmly. He uses his entire body to keep me in place as he continues to sink his teeth into my skin.

  I have received hickeys before, but none of them ever hurt as much as this. And I am pretty sure his actions are not about giving me a cute little love mark.

  I am whimpering and shaking by the time he finally lets go of me. His grip around me loosens, and instead of breaking free and away from him, I just lie there, breathing heavily as my muscles relax and my body processes the aftershock of his bite.

  He plants a soft kiss on my tortured skin. I flinch, which makes him smile with accomplishment.

  I would never admit it to him – or anybody else – but I am pretty sure that my center is damp. God damn it.

  "Don't interrupt me," he says. His voice is soft and loving, in total contrast to his brute bite. "And don't make fun of me. Do you understand?"

  I bite my bottom lip and narrow my eyes as I look at him. The spot on my neck is burning, and there is no doubt this will leave a visible mark that won't be easy to hide. Oh, the mocking I will have to endure from Yuka tonight...

  "Yes, Sir," I utter, suppressing any smartass remarks to tease him.

  I cannot explain why, but all I want to do right now is to hug and kiss him, asking for forgiveness and showering him with affection.

  The throbbing pain in my neck feels as if he has injected me with poison. Some kind of potion that only makes me want him more.

  That makes no sense at all, Nicky, my conscience warns. He just hurt you, he silenced you by biting your neck!

  "Good girl," he whispers. The way he looks at me now is so different from before. I see nothing but affection and appreciation in his dark eyes.

  I want to be close to him and curl up in his arms.

  So that’s what I do.

  I roll over and shyly wrap my arms around his upper body. He welcomes me by putting his arm around me and placing his hand at the back of my head to gently position my face onto his chest.

  I sigh in relief. There is no place I would rather be right now. I have never felt this safe. This feeling of belonging – it is unfamiliar and scary, but so fucking satisfying.

  My conscience needs to shut up for just a few minutes. I want to enjoy this without questioning any of it for now. He feels great, he smells good, and he makes me feel like a god damn queen – even though he bit me.

  "Thank you," I whisper.

  I know I can only say it, because he cannot see my face right now. I am hidden in his soft pullover, feeling his muscles move with the rhythm of his breathing beneath the fabric. I close my eyes.

  This feeling of transparency is eerie. He knows how I feel; I don't have to tell him. He can see all of it. That damn battle I am fighting. He wants me to feel like this, and he enjoys it.

  But right now, he is not mocking me for it, expressing his triumph with a smug smile. I cannot see his face, but I know he is not deriding me.

  He is comforting me.

  His hand caresses the back of my head, stroking through the thick, wild strands of my hair that are rumpled from our play and my desperate fight.

  "It's okay," he whispers.

  I smile. Recovering in his arms is surprisingly easy. One could consider the painful bites to my neck and the multiple orgasms as vicious attacks to punish me.

  But I took it. Oddly enough, they have led me to feel stronger and more accomplished, as if have earned some kind of reward, or completed the next step to a bigger achievement.

  I release myself from his hug, creating some distance between us, and I look up at him. Just as I thought, there is no triumph, no boastful grin on his face that would make my insides boil with fury and shame. If anything, his faint smile conveys concern – and a little worry.

  "Why did you come to the club that night?" I ask. "You said you have never been there before. Why that night? Change of pace?"

  He shrugs. "Yes, in a way. It has been a while since I have been to a place like that with good music, cheap drinks, and real people."

  "Real people?"

  "You were right about some things you said that night," he explains. "Your prejudices may not be fair and narrow-minded in their own way, but they are not completely wrong."

  He pauses, visibly enjoying the view as I smile triumphantly.

  "Elaborate," I urge.

  "The success I have had by doing the things I love has vaulted me into a world I never wanted to be a part of," he explains. "And you are right, there is a lot of superficiality, a lot of boring cocktail parties, an infinite amount of pointless small talk, and uninspiring people who drain my vital energy. They are like zombies, brain eaters, so empty themselves that they feed off of the energy and creativity of others to feel alive."

  "And is it your energy they feed off?" I ask.

  He laughs. "I know that must sound arrogant to you. But as you have already pointed out – correctly, I might add – I am pretty full of myself."

  I smile. "Yes, you really are."

  "In all honesty, I just wanted to dance," he adds. "I wanted to be surrounded by noise and a little filth and people who don't feel the need to impress me. I wanted to be in a place that’s alive and where no one knows who I am and what I do."

  "I felt pretty stupid when I saw that article about you..."

  "It only made me like you more," he says softly, admiringly, while gently caressing my cheek with the tip of his finger. "The fact that you had no idea who I was only added to my interest. And your sassy comments. God, I wanted to spank that bratty attitude out of you right then and there."

  "Well," I say. "It's not like you really tried to blend in. You looked so out of place with your business suit pants. And I didn't see you dancing, either."

  "Habit," he says, shrugging. "It's not easy to get out of it once you have been accustomed to it for so long. And besides, I don't like worn-out jeans and crappy t-shirts with juvenile logos. I never have. Wanting to be in a certain atmosphere and surrounded by certain people does not mean that you have to be and do everything they do to blend in. I have never been fond of following the crowd or needing to change to fit in and remain safe."

  "Safe from what?" I teasingly ask.

  "Safe from sassy little girls who dump their insecurities and prejudices on me, because they feel like they know everything there is to know by just looking at me," he replies.

  "Insecurities, huh?"

  "Yes, little girl," he says. "Whether you like it or not, you are an open book to me, revealing everything that is beautiful about you – including the things that are broken and need to be fixed. You will have to let me take care of those as well, if you really want to be my submissive."

  I blush and feel strangely exposed. His words feel as if he just stripped me naked all over again.

  "What do you –"?"

  "Hush," he interrupts me. "For now, I need you to do something else for me."

  CHAPTER XV

  Nicky

  Before I can ask what it is he wants me to do for him, he pulls me in for another kiss. His lips meet mine with gentle curiosity at first, but soon they are asking for – demanding -- more. He greedily claims me, asserting his tongue inside my mouth intrusively while keeping me in place with his strong arms.

  I give in all too willingly, yearning moans accompanying the heavy breathing of our passionate kiss.

  His hand wanders along my torso, skimming over my belly as he moves further down. I shiver when his fingertips travel across my mound to my already tingling center. A nudge against the inside of my thighs silently orders me to spread my legs for him, which I do obediently.

  I moan loudly when he parts my folds and slowly reaches between them.

  "Good girl," he whispers, interrupting our kiss. "So wet and ready for me already."

  He observes me as I writhe under his touch, moaning and squirming as his fingers skillfully toy with my wetness. He deliberately disregards my most sensitive spot, only caressing my clit here and there, seemingly by accident – but every time he does, I welcome it with a desperate moan, begging for more.

  "I need to know one more thing," he says. "Before we both lose our clear minds again."

  "It might be too late for that already," I breathe hoarsely.

  He shakes his head. "I need to know if I can fuck you bare. Are you on birth control?"

  Oh, I did not expect that question.

  "Of course I am," I reply. The thought of only relying on condoms has always seemed too risky for me, and I have been on the pill pretty much since I started showing any interest in boys.

  His handsome face is consumed by a broad smile.

  "Perfect," he says, leaning forward to plant passionate kisses along my neckline. "I want you. All of you. And I want you to feel all of me. I need to fuck you with nothing between us."

  The only reply I can think of is the release of a desperate moan. I close my eyes and throw my head back with pleasure as he continues to kiss and lick alternating spots on my neck.

  "I love how responsive you are," he enthuses. "How willing and ready to serve me."

  His words make me blush and only add to my arousal. I hope he fucks me this time. He has to.

  He withdraws his finger, leaving me with a yearning sigh as he moves it up to his face. I almost explode with embarrassment when he licks my juices off of them, moaning with relish.

  "Delicious," he comments. "Your taste is divine."

  I gulp, unsure whether to thank him for the compliment or not.

  "But you know," he adds. "You already had your turn. This one is for me. Stand up."

  He lets go of me and encourages me to get off the bed.

  "Yes, Sir," I answer and follow his command.

  "Wait here," he says, as I stand next to the bed, my eyes zeroed in on him in anticipation.

  He gets up and walks past me. I hear him rummaging around, opening drawers of the dresser behind me. Again, I wonder how often he uses this room. I still haven’t seen any luggage or personal belongings lying around, but if there is stuff in the dresser's drawers, it must mean that he lives here. Doesn’t it?

  "Put your hands together in front of your chest," he says. "As if you were praying."

  "Yes, Sir," I comply.

  He appears then in front of me, holding a piece of black rope in his hands. He casts me a quick smile before he starts binding it around my wrists, skillfully tying them together with elaborate knots. He appears quite skilled, making it obvious to me that he has clearly done it before. I adore the cute yet intense expressions that form on his face as he concentrates on the knots he is tying.

  "Good?" he asks. "Not too tight?"

  "No, it's perfect," I reply.

  There is still a good length of rope left. He holds it in his right hand like a leash as he slowly takes two steps back to look at me.

  "There are so many things I want to do to you," he says, casting me a naughty smile. "Rope suits you. You will need more of it. And we need something for your neck, too. Don't you think?"

  I am pretty sure that the only answer that will not get me in trouble right now is, "Yes, Sir," but it is not the one on the tip of my tongue.

  "Something around my neck?" I ask. "Do you want to strangle me?"

  He smirks. "No, silly girl. Leashes suit you – but they belong on a collar, right?"

  "A collar?" I ask, blushing. I know very little about these things, but what I do know is that a collar can come close to a wedding ring between a Dom and his sub.

  "We are nowhere near that," he adds, as if he can read my mind. "But maybe someday."

  He pauses and looks at me with that stern, intense face. His look makes me shiver and causes my heart to skip. It feels like a warm but threatening grip, mesmerizing and paralyzing me at the same time.

  I love it. I would do anything for him right now. No questions asked. Seeing him happy and pleased with me would be the greatest satisfaction I can think of right now.

  "Would you like that?" he asks. "To be collared by me?"

  "Yes," I reply. "Yes, Sir. Very much."

  He smiles. "That makes two of us. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. For now, you follow me on this."

  "Yes, Sir," I whisper, a dumb smile on my face.

  He turns around and starts leading me to the window. I follow along like a puppy on a leash, with my hands tied in front of my body. I startle when he does something unexpected: he opens the curtains!

  We are on the twenty-sixth floor, very high up and higher than most buildings surrounding the hotel. Most, not all.

  I instinctively take a step back from the window as the light of the setting sun hits me. I feel so exposed, as if a thousand eyes are glued on me at once.

  He chuckles as I try to seek safety by hiding behind him.

  "Don't worry," he says. "I don't think anyone can see you up here, little girl. The windows reflect too much, especially when the evening sun hits them like it does right now."

  He turns around to face me. The sun illuminates him from behind, giving him the contradictory impression of an archangel or some other holy apparition.

  "You'll be safe as long as you are with me," he assures me. "Do you trust me?"

  I look up at him and convince myself to convey a subtle nod. "Yes, Sir. I trust you."

  "Good girl," he says, and leans down to kiss me.

  It is a soft, gentle kiss, not as aggressive as his others, but still demanding. I instantly forget about the open curtain and the possibility of being seen. Nothing else matters when this man is kissing me.

  "Get down on your knees," he whispers in me ear as he ends our kiss. "And look up at me while you do it."

  "Yes, Sir," I reply, at once obediently sinking down on my knees without taking my eyes off of his.

  Even his thick blue jeans cannot hide how hungry he is for me. I smile as I notice the telltale bulge even without directly looking at it.

  "I didn't tie your hands at your back for a reason," he says. "I still want you to use them. Get it out and show me what a good girl you are."

  "Yes, Sir," I say.

  As I am about to do as he told me to, I happen to lower my eyes to have a view at the fly that I am supposed to open. He yanks at the rope, making me flinch as the knots cut into my slim wrists. It hurts a lot more than I expected.

  "Eyes on me!" he hisses.

  Damn. Why can't I even remember the simplest things he tells me to do?

  "Yes, Sir," I say yet again, as I raise my eyes to find his.

  I clumsily fiddle with the buttons on his pants, trying my best to do this as quickly as possible.

  Luckily, I prove myself to be more talented at this than I thought, and am able to free his erection swiftly.

  "Very good girl," he praises me as I gently wrap my tied up hands around his girth. He is rock hard.

  "Now, you may play with it," he says. "But don't you dare take your eyes off of mine for even a second. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Sir," I breathe.

  I cast him a naughty smile as I bend forward and gently start to lick the tip of his erection. His eyes flicker even at the slightest touch of my tongue, and he moans when I take my first taste of him.