Page 8 of Cashmere Cruelty

“That’s right,” he rumbles, low and dark. “It appears you’ve managed to bring me something to my liking after all. And I never leave something I like on display.”

“I’m not for sale,” I say through gritted teeth.

“And I’m not offering to pay.” He brings his face even closer to mine. One miscalculation, one little twitch, and our lips would meet. “Are you going to leave what you want on display?”

He waits.

He waits.

I don’t say no.

So he takes that for exactly the answer it is:Claim me.

I kiss him.

That’s my third and final mistake. I surge forward and claim his lips with mine, dragging him the rest of the way down. I use my teeth; I’m not afraid. Iwantthis. And wasn’t he the one going on and on about taking the things you want?

For once, I’m apparently right.

It’s a kiss unlike any I’ve ever had before. It’s not particularly nice, to be honest, or kind, or tender, or gentle.

Actually, it’s fuckingsavage.

He pries my lips apart and licks into my mouth, hot and hard anddeep. If there was any doubt left on whether this man was truly made of ice, this kiss melts it all the way away.

Under the surface, fire smolders.

His hands are on me in seconds. I can feel his rough palms mapping out my body, the curves and dips of my breasts, of my hips. My buttons don’t stand a chance: they go flying everywhere.

“You’re lucky,” I blurt between kisses, “that I have a spare set of clothes.”

In response, the man chuckles in that dark way of his.

Then he yanks my head back and turns my neck into a battleground.

My hands itch to touch back. To give just as good as I’m getting. But, as if reading my mind, the man yanks on the tie, securing the knot all the way.

“Not so fast,kalina.” He loops the tie’s tail to the free coat hook above my head, pulling twice to ensure it won’t come loose. “I’m not done with my purchase yet.”

God help me, I moan.

I’m so used to being the one in control—the one whohasto be in control. If I’m not on top of every little thing, I feel like my life will just spiral out of my grasp.

Like it used to be.

So,this? Being stripped of all say? I’m not gonna lie: it’s doing it for me.

I feel my thighs being pried apart. I don’t resist: I could never. I’m so wet I can’t breathe.

He notices it, too. “Blyat’,” he growls, pushing my skirt up and my panties aside. I have no idea what that word means, but right now, I can’t say I care. All I care about is his fingers, rough and wonderful, pushing upjust right?—

“Oh, God.”

He starts with one. It’s not enough. “More,” I whine, squirming against the restraints, trying to hook my leg around his half-naked hip, because if I don’t get more skin-on-skin contactrightthisfuckingsecond, I think I might die.

In the crook of my neck, the stranger groans. “Fucking hell,kalina.You want me that bad?”

“Yes,” I breathe. I’m too far gone for lies. It’s so hot to say it—to admit it out loud. No one’s ever asked me what I wanted before. I don’t know if that makes me pathetic or unlucky, but either way, I couldn’t care less.