He gave her taut nipple a pinch and slid his hand over her breast, up her chest, and then snaked it around her throat. Just as he’d expected, her body stilled. Her breath caught. And a throaty snarl poured out of her mouth into his.
She broke the kiss, clearly riled by his dominant hold. “Let. Go.”
If he thought she genuinely didn’t like it, he’d release her instantly. But this wasn’t about likes or dislikes. This was a battle for dominance. Not a sexual game. It wasn’t about kneeling, lowering your eyes, or obeying every order. This was something much more primal—an alpha female demanding that her male prove himself worthy of her and any ounce of submission she’d deign to give him. Both he and his cat intended to do just that.
So Tate flexed his hand around her throat, leaned all his body weight into her, and said simply, “No.”
She scratched at his wrist hard enough to sting but didn’t draw blood. “Let fucking go.”
Tightening his grip on her hair, he instead snatched her head back and squeezed her throat. “Behave. Unless you want to get dry humped against this counter. I’m not opposed to that, but I’ll be the only one who gets to come.”
She shoved at his chest and kicked at him. He let her. She was strong enough to escape his hold if it was what she truly wanted. But this wasn’t a test of his physical strength. She was pitting her will against his. So he didn’t move an inch, didn’t loosen his hold on her, didn’t berate her, didn’t lose his patience. He just stayed very still, outwaiting her, letting her know that he wouldn’t be cowered.
She eventually ceased struggling, but there was no surrender in the act—her body was still tense, her muscles coiled to strike. As such, he didn’t release her, but he slowly lifted her head by her hair. “That’s better. Now … open your jeans.”
Her eyes flared.
“Do it.”
“Can’t,” she bit out. “You’re crushing me.”
“I’ll give your hands some room once they’re heading in the right direction. Now open your jeans. I want to slide my finger into that pussy of yours.” He was so attuned to her that he sensed her tense muscles slacken just a little.
She tried slipping her hands between their bodies. He pulled back his hips a few inches, giving her some room, and felt her fingers tackling her fly. A zipper lowered—
She lunged forward and latched her teeth on his throat, taking him off-guard. His cock went impossibly thicker, and his jaw ached with the need to return the bite. Hands shoved his chest hard enough to make him stagger backwards. Then she was gone from his hold and racing out of the kitchen. He should have seen that coming.
Her heart pounding and her devil urging her on, Havana rushed into the living area, conscious of him chasing—
Her breath whooshed out of her as an arm wrapped around her waist from behind and yanked her against a hard chest. “Motherfucker.”
Ignoring her struggles, the bastard wrestled her to the floor. He flipped her onto her back, yanked down her bra, and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
She inhaled sharply and clamped her hands around his shoulders. Jesus, that felt good. Too good. But she wasn’t ready to give into him yet. She didn’t shove him away, though, because it would hurt like a bitch while he was letting her feel the edge of his teeth on her nipple. Each rough suckle sent a spark of pleasure straight to her pussy.
Even as her devil snarled at his insistence on subduing and dominating her, she didn’t want him to stop. It wasn’t that she or Havana wanted to be ordered around or disciplined. They just wanted a male who knew what he was about in the bedroom; one who owned his strength in such a way that he could take control.
Havana wasn’t ashamed of it. It was a natural part of her sexuality that she liked to explore and didn’t bother to question. During the battle for dominance, she was the focus of his world, just as he was hers. There was no room for thoughts of anyone or anything else.
She never felt weak in the moment when she finally yielded. It wasn’t an expression of weakness, it was a concession that he’d earned the right to take control—something she’d wanted him to do all along. And once he had it, he was on a major high. There was something empowering for her about being responsible for that high he was on. But neither of them would come to that point if he didn’t earn it.
He slid his hand down her stomach and slipped it into her panties, unerringly finding her clit. She couldn’t help but moan as he worked it hard—flicking, rubbing, pinching, and rolling the tip of his finger around it first one way then the other. Damn, the bastard was good.
“That’s it, very good,” he praised before latching onto her nipple again.
What, he thought she’d yielded this soon? Pfft. She scratched his nape hard enough to make him release her nipple with a snarl. Using a fancy defensive move, she flipped him over, leaped to her feet, and ran.
She didn’t get far.
He tackled her again mere seconds later, sending them both to their knees. She swore as he then bent her upper body over the chair cushion and curved himself around her.
He growled into her ear, “I wasn’t done.” He palmed her breast and shoved his free hand into her panties. “Fucking take what I give you.” Not in the least deterred by her struggles, he expertly played with her clit as he cupped and shaped her breast, pausing every now and then to pinch and tweak her nipple until it throbbed.
She tried to resist just sinking into the moment, she honestly did, but it was so goddamn hard. He knew her every weak spot. Knew her every hot button. Knew exactly what to whisper in her ear to ramp up the need racing through her.
She hissed. “You’re a fucking dick.”
Tate felt his mouth kick up into a smile. “Oh, I know that.” He slid his hand deeper into her panties, slipped his finger through her slick folds, and dipped it inside her. She squirmed, trying to drive herself onto his finger, but he used the weight of his body to pin her in place. “You want my finger deeper, baby? Hmm? Then all you have to do is stop fighting.”
She twisted her head and bit his jaw hard, which he could have ignored if her hand hadn’t reached down and squeezed his balls through his jeans—it didn’t hurt, but it did make him flinch backwards in surprise. Then she was gone again.
Fuck. He pursued her fast, snatched her off her feet, and tossed her over his shoulder. Her fists pounded his back as he stalked into her bedroom, where he then threw on the mattress so hard that she bounced. She probably would have lunged at him if he hadn’t then collapsed on top of her and pinned her wrists above her head.
His poor baby writhed and cursed and growled in sheer exasperation. Tate transferred both her wrists to one of his hands and then snapped open his fly. He almost groaned in relief as his aching cock sprang free. He pulled her own fly wider open and, paying no attention to her struggles or insults, kissed and suckled on her throat while rubbing his cock against her clit through her panties. It wasn’t long before her growls became moans and she went from squirming to arching into him.
He raked his teeth over her pulse, flirting with the relentless temptation to bite and mark—it never gave him any reprieve. But no, he couldn’t do that to her.
His dick jerked when she let out a whimper loaded with so much hunger that she had to be literally hurting with the need to come. Hell, he could fucking relate. “Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed into her ear. “I can give you what you need. All you have to do is settle down for me. I can’t taste your pussy if you don’t.”