“The same way I am. Aroused. Stay right here,” he told her, and returned to the bedroom, then was back in seconds with the dress and underwear she’d laid out for herself on the bed. The dress was simple, a red, jersey cotton number that fit softly and well. He handed her the white lace panties, and she stepped into them as he gently lowered the dress over her head, letting it fall down to her knees.

“No bra for me?” she asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Don’t wear one tonight,” he said, smoothing out the dress, then reaching his hands up to cup her bottom through her panties. “But you have to wear panties as much as I’d prefer you naked under the dress,” he said, and tapped the jewel.

She gasped from the slightest movement in her rear. “It feels so good,” she whispered, like she was telling him a decadent secret.

“All I can think about, Michelle. All I can think about is you, and your perfect ass, and how much I want you.”

She eyed his towel, and the way his hard cock was tenting it.

That was her power. The effect she had on him. She wanted some power back. After too many emotions had rattled free from her heart, she needed to take. She tugged the towel off him, and his dick saluted her. He was at attention, and a drop glistened on the tip. Using her thumb, she spread that liquid on the head, watching his eyes turn hazy, his breath ragged.

“Can I fuck you with my hand before dinner?” she asked, talking to him as he’d often spoken to her. Controlling. Confident.

“You naughty girl,” he said with narrowed eyes, and she took that as a yes.

She was fully dressed, he was completely naked, and she was thoroughly in charge of his pleasure. This beautiful, controlling man was hers to touch and to tease. She reached behind her to the counter, squirted some lube into her hands, and proceeded to stroke his gorgeous cock. She needed this. She desperately needed this right now.

Slowly at first, like it was a luxury, and she wanted to savor every second. “Don’t come,” she told him sharply.

He shook his head. “I won’t,” he muttered on an upstroke that had him trying to rock faster into her hand.

“Jack,” she warned, thrilling at giving him an order. “I can’t have you coming too soon. You need to hold back.”

Nodding, his mouth fell open, his breathing intensifying as she upped her pace. He moaned and grunted, and his sexy, masculine sounds of impending pleasure ignited her insides. She used both hands, one to grip his glorious cock that slid in and out of her tight fist, the other to play with his balls.

“You want to come so badly, don’t you?” she asked. A spark raced through her body and lit up her mind as she turned the tables on him. This role reversal did wonders for her insides, physically and emotionally. It let her retrieve those dangerous words, and wind them back up inside her, as if the moment from last night had been rewound. As if the messy threat of emotions and feelings and falling too far could be stuffed neatly back into a closed drawer.