He smiled faintly. “Good girl. But then you have a real appetite for fucking, don’t you?” he said, low-pitched, a strange steely undertone to his comment. Releasing her chin, he smoothed his fingertips over the angry red marks in a considering gesture, as though reviewing his options. Then he leaned over, slid his hands under her arms, lifted her to her feet. “Maybe it’s time to teach you some useful skills. Undress for me. Leave your bra on. I like to see my tits bound. Clear?” Each word was clipped and brusque, uncompromising. “Speak, Katherine.” He dipped his head, his smile wicked. “Or blink if you prefer. I’ll get the message.”

“You’re such a prick,” she hissed, even as every shimmering nerve ramped up for action, even as the moist ache of desire was making her desperate.

“But you want it anyway, don’t you, baby?” he said gently, as if he had X-ray vision and could see her brain waves, her pulsing core. “Answer. You’re wasting valuable fucking time.”

She hated herself for wanting him, deep down and visceral, she really did. And for a flashing moment she wondered if she could refuse him. But she wasn’t that self-sacrificing and he wouldn’t let her anyway.

“Yes, you son of a bitch.”

“You swear a lot. We’re going to have to clean up your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

His thousand-watt smile was instant and insolent. “Moody, but a recognizable verb. As soon as you’re undressed, baby, we’ll work on the fucking lessons.”

Damn his breathtaking good looks and hard-ass body, his outrageous sex appeal and gigantic dick. Had a woman ever said no to him?

He lightly tapped her bottom lip in a flagrant gesture of possession. “I appreciate your interest, but get rid of the clothes.” He swept a fingertip along the underside of one breast. “Remember, leave the bra on.”

Lounging against the door, he watched her, his gaze half lidded while she slid off her shoes, unzipped her jeans, wiggled out of them. He looked amused as she folded her jeans and set them on the vanity. Then, slipping off her lace panties, she placed them on her jeans and turned to face him.

“Jesus Christ, Katherine.” His voice was heated, his gaze in contrast, cool, assessing, an obscure emotion shimmering in its depths as he surveyed her standing there, small, shapely, her pubic hair gleaming damply between her legs, her big tits straining the fine lace. She looked even more naked with the dark green lace in sharp contrast to her pale skin, the half-undressed image blatantly erotic. The fact that she was standing there on his orders was messed up as hell and incalculably lurid.

And not just for him.

She shouldn’t respond so predictably to his orders—so readily, so shamelessly. She shouldn’t instantly capitulate just because he was too beautiful for words, or because some inexplicable crash of endorphins and pheromones spiked through her brain. She should have more sense. But he had only to look at her with that predatory gleam and she was flooded with sharp set desire, her body dissolved into a lustful puddle of want. And nothing else mattered.

“You look fantastic, baby. Your big tits locked in tight and everything else open for business.” He went absolutely still. “Although with your randy pussy, maybe we should lock that up when I’m not around… Get you a chastity belt.” His mouth pursed. “I don’t suppose there’s much call for those anymore. I’d like to have one made.”

“Jesus, time out, freak.” But her voice turned wispy at the end as a hot lewd jolt coiled like a pinwheel in her wetter than wet sex, making her dizzy with longing.

He gave her a knowing smile. “You like that? I thought you might. Gold or silver for your chastity belt, baby? We should probably put my name on it just to remind you who you belong to, who owns you. Because coercion turns you on, doesn’t it? You like to be ordered to fuck me, don’t you?”

“No.” The single syllable was shaky.

He laughed. “That’s a helluva needy sound, baby. You don’t really mean no, do you?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, answering for her. “A little discipline makes you cream your pussy. We both know that. Look at me, Katherine. I need an answer.”

Her gaze came up, her nostrils flared. “Maybe.”

His smile was wicked. “And maybe if I fuck the hell out of you we’ll find out for sure.” He pointed at his boots. “Kneel. Unlace them. This could take a while.”

“Dominic, please. Everyone will know. Your sister.” But even as she spoke, her body, her quivering senses, were begging him to fuck her.

“What about my sister?” he said, frost in his voice. “Kneel, baby.” He pointed again. “Do it.”

His expression was cold and ruthless; the man who gave orders that others obeyed. Not just here, but everywhere in the world.

“Dominic… please.” She opened her mouth, hesitated under his chill gaze, moved closer instead, put her hand on his powerful arm, looked up. “Could the boots wait? I’m not saying no. I wish I could,” she whispered. “But we shouldn’t stay here too long.”

He didn’t move, his body held in check.

She rested her forehead on his chest. “Please?”

He was rigid at first, silent and unyielding at first, then he shifted slightly, slowly exhaled, and she felt the first stirring of hope. A split second passed, or it might have been years, then he looped his arms around her, ran his thumbs lightly up and down her spine, and brought his chin down on the top of her head. “Sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I want you too much. It makes me crazy.” He sounded tired.