The deep tenor of his voice and the heated memory in his words was ramping up her libido. She could feel herself getting wet. “Jesus, don’t look at me like that,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “I don’t want to, okay? There’re plenty of other things I like to do.”

He grinned, thinking how lucky he was to have her, how goddamn fuckable she was. “Open your mind, baby.”

“I’ll do that just as soon you open your mind about your feelings. Comprende?” she said, a familiar edge creeping into her voice. She catapulted out of bed and walked to the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it. A few seconds later he was pounding on the bathroom door. But it wasn’t loud or violent; it was a low, steady pounding, like drums beating a message through the dark, hissing jungle. Like he knew the message would get through. Like he knew it was just a matter of time before she opened the door.

When she finally did, he was standing there.

“Hey.” He smiled, slow and sexy and knowing.

The small sound vibrated through her body.

“Compromise?”

She nodded.

He held out his hand and she went to him.

He drew her to the bed, where they sat, his warm fingers twined with hers, their side-by-side poses like American Gothic, bedroom version.

She let out a small breath and he glanced at her.

“You first,” she said.

“Give me five minutes with the pearls.”

“Then I get five minutes with what I want?”

He nodded.

“You’re not going to ask what?”

“Should I?”

“It’s not sex.”

He sat there a moment. “I don’t suppose I have to wonder what it is?”

“Not if you were listening when I jumped out of bed a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, what the hell,” he said with amusement. “How hard can it be?”

But he made it clear that his five minutes didn’t include anything else but the pearls. Because, although he didn’t mention it, he had to make sure that Katherine was so sexed up, so wet and horny, so aching with need and near climax that she wouldn’t back out.

He had her stand between his legs where he slowly undressed her, lifting off her blouse, unzipping her jeans, slipping them and the lacy wisp of panties down her hips and legs. “Now this uncomfortable bra,” he said with a smile, reaching behind her and unclasping the hooks. “My long-suffering tits need consoling.”

She softly exhaled as her breasts were freed, and gently stretched her spine.

“You really don’t like bras, do you?”

“No more than you’d like your dick strangled in a jock strap.”

He laughed. “So I should be more understanding.”

“My boobs would appreciate it.”

“Spoilsport,” he murmured, his mouth twitching. “But I suppose I should apologize to my tits.” Taking her by the waist, he pulled her closer. “I’ll kiss them all better,” he whispered, sitting up straighter so his breath warmed her nipple, then the warmth of his tongue followed and, wrapping his hands around her breast, he tugged her lower, took her nipple into his mouth, and sucked for long endless moments. Until her breasts felt swollen and engorged and every small suction of his mouth, no matter how gentle, slid down her quivering nerve endings, heated and delicious to the deep, powerful ache pulsing between her legs.

Kate groaned, moved her hips in frenzied need, laced her fingers through Dominic’s hair, clutching his head to her breast, wanting more, wanting him deep inside her. But he slid the dildo into her dewy cleft instead and she whimpered in craving, in disappointment, overwhelmed by sensation, feeling punished and pleasured in equal measure.

But seconds short of her orgasm, when she could already feel herself starting to peak, he dropped his hands and sat back. “Intermission, baby,” he said calmly. “Act two coming up.”

“I’m going to kill you,” she spat, reaching down for the dildo.

He stopped her. “Kill me later,” he said, grabbing her wrists, pulling them together over her stomach, and holding them immobile in one hand. “When it’s your turn.” Reaching for a gold bracelet, he snapped first one, then the other on her wrists, checked that the chain was clasped together before releasing her. “Prologue to act two, baby. Does being my captive turn you on? It sure as hell does me.” He reached up and stroked her swollen nipples. “Feel good?” he said unnecessarily, as she softly groaned.

She was warm and tingling everywhere with the dildo buried deep; feverish and flushed and so damned close to being where she wanted to be, she could almost measure the distance to carnal release. But that satisfaction was eluding her, quivering just out of reach, the wild craving shuddering through her body, agonizing, intoxicating, beyond any former memory of need.

But Dominic was in control as usual.

Once her breathing calmed, he pushed the dildo deeper, then deeper still, carefully monitoring her response, her moans, whimpers, how she moved her hips into his thrust, how the mounting tension was building in her body. “Having fun?” he asked, a small smile playing across his mouth.

She didn’t hear him at first, so he stilled his hand.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I was wondering if everything was fine so far,” he said gently, circling the nub of her clitoris with his index finger.

Her whole body jerked, pleasure swamped her senses, and she softly moaned.