And then— “Ahhh,” she cried out as she came, flinging her head back as she held on to his shoulders.

“Goddamn it, Della, but you are so glorious,” he said after the waves of pleasure had subsided. “Please tell me you forgive me.”

She got off his legs, shaking her skirts out, unable to keep from staring at his broad chest and the erection that was tenting his trousers.

He was so glorious too.

“I know you said you were sorry, but I wanted to make sure you truly understood. That while there are things that are good—very good,” she said, raking her gaze over him, “if it’s not under your control, if you’re told what to do, then it doesn’t matter how good the thing is. It’s still not yours. Someone else owns it. Not you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and then he nodded. “I understand. I promise never to wrest control away from you ever again.” And then he gave a wolfish grin. “But if you wanted to hear what I would do to you if you let me move my hands,” he said, glancing down at his legs, “then I would be more than happy to comply. As in all things with you, Della.”

It was a vow and a promise. And she believed him.

“I forgive you,” she said at last, and then he smiled, a warm, wondrous smile that made her insides melt. As though he’d been worried the entire time that she wouldn’t—that she’d do what she wanted to him, and then just leave.

I forgive you.

“Thank you,” he replied. It was taking all of his will not to leap up out of the chair and take her in his arms. But he knew just how important it was to her, and so he was willing to cede control.

Plus the way she’d demonstrated her needs was so very delightful.

If agonizing. His whole body burned where she’d touched him—his chest, his neck, his shoulders, and, of course his cock, which throbbed, unfulfilled, in his trousers.

“What do you want to do?” she asked in a sultry tone of voice.

Dear Lord, thank God you asked.

“If I may?” he said, glancing down at his hands.

“Yes. You can do whatever you want.”

Permission. Permission to touch her, to tell her what he was thinking, to fuck her so hard they both saw stars.

“First I want this gown off. You’re far too dressed for my taste.”

He rose as he spoke, stalking toward her with a definite purpose. She spun so her back was to him, and his fingers went to the tiny buttons at the back of her gown, undoing each one as swiftly as he could.

He heard her chuckle, and then she shifted back so her arse was nestled in his groin.

“You’ll be the death of me, woman,” he growled.