Page 51 of Bloodstained Wings
“Dance for me, dove.”
It’s the sight I wanted to see when I thought she texted me, and I’ll be damned if the lasting memory of a salacious dance in my head isn’t by her body and her wonderful figure. I want what I want, and it used to be for the sake of plugging up the past where it bled out.
But things are different now. This is the woman I want, the one I deserve, and even if she doesn’t believe it, I trust her more than anyone else in my world right now. Rich Donahue is a blip on my radar, a source of contention I know I’m not done dealing with yet, but if that means more time spent with my dove, hashing things out just to rebound from them stronger than ever—then so be it.
I enjoy her dance as she moves her hips, and I count the ways I’m going to make her scream in ecstasy tonight all inside my head. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to fuck her like I should have been fucking her all week long. If that means cramming it into one night together, I’ll do just that.
I’ll have the woman I love, the woman who loves me, and no one will come between that. No one.
Chapter Nineteen
Isabella
I don’t know what’s gotten into Carter, but I hope it doesn’t disappear.
He has been watching me attempt to dance for what feels like an eternity, and just when I think my legs are going to give out, he stands up. He leans back, his cock harder than ever, and he stares me down like a hungry lion would a gazelle.
“Go upstairs, dove.”
His voice is like ice on my clit, and I shudder with both shock and delight at the roughness of his new demeanor. As my hands are bound in front of me, I carefully move to grab a towel, feeling his hand swing against the plane of my ass when I do so. The towel goes flying as I recoil from the instant pain, and his hand finds the back of my hair.
He tips my head up, my back and my sore, hot ass now pressed to his chest and his hips. He keeps me pinned there, too, his lips moving to my ear closest to the center of his chest where he has me hostage.
“Did I say you could cover up, dove?”
I shake my head in shame. “You want me to walk up there naked?”
He nods slowly, his hand tightening on my scalp. It’s not enough to hurt, but it is enough to know that he’s taking control back, and the week we spent without sex wasn’t spent in vain. “You will do everything I say to the word, or you’ll be punished, dove.”
Given all this time I’ve spent with Carter, I thought I knew all his antics by now, but I don’t. He places my focus back on the stairs leading to the main floor, and I pray when he came home that he sent anyone in the living room to Anita’s.
I walk up the stairs, naked, with his hands crawling over my sore ass. He rubs the spot he spanked over and over again until the searing pain is nothing but a distant memory against my skin. I plan to keep it that way, stopping in the living room while I wait for my next instructions.
“Go to the kitchen island, dove. Put your back on the countertop.”
I do as he instructs, but the dark marble slab is so cold that I hiss and step forward, bumping right into Carter as he comes around me. He gives me a warning look, and I wait for his hand to swing sideways against my backside. He’s lenient, which is new for him, and I’m happy about it.
However, his hands grab at my sides, and he lifts me off the floor with such ease. I mutter under my breath about the coldness against my ass, and he smiles wider at my discomfort over it. Tapping the edge of the countertop where my legs are parted, he gives me a narrow look.
“Lay down on your back, with your head off the edge of the countertop right here.”
My eyes widen. I’m already soaking wet and slipping around. Now I have to manage this position with my hands bound and my body covered in chills? It’s been a week of us tiptoeing around one another, and I figured it would be another few days before we would talk about what was said. Then maybe, and only then, would we reconnect sexually and fall into our old ways.
Half of my excitement is encouraged by the fact that I wasn’t expecting this at all. It’s even more driven by the thrill of what is to come and what this dynamic and sensual man has planned for us next. I could never keep track of his ideas before.
This only leads to a steeper edge of possibilities, and I’m excited about every single part of that.
I do as he wants, laying on my back with the back of my head hanging off the edge of the countertop. My back is frozen on the cold marble, my legs shivering and shaking, but I hope he just takes that as my enthusiasm and nervousness about what’s coming next.
He grabs my wrists, his hands stroking up my bare stomach and then between my breasts. When my hands are over my head, he looks slightly satisfied, letting them hang off the edge and below my head that’s already hanging off the side.
Blood rushes to my fingertips while some goes to my head, but I ignore it for now. This is worth it.
He stalks along the side of the kitchen island, his eyes sinking into my skin at every possible opportunity. It’s a little overwhelming to be like a meal for this powerful man, but that’s how I feel right now. He makes it known, too, that he can have what he wants when he wants it.
While the option to call for mercy is always present, I don’t do it. I’ve used it once when Carter got out of hand, but this isn’t the same. He might still harbor some anger, but it could be his normal amount. He’s typically an irate man anyway, so it’s hard to tell the distinction these days, but I know his breaking point.
It was last week in our argument.