“I’m …” I breathed embarrassingly heavy. “I’m not having sex with you.” Despite my slightly compromised position and lack of blood going to my brain, I felt proud of my will power. The days of being Fisher’s toy … his favorite game … were over. I was the master, the powerful queen who would take down the king.

Checkmate.

“No?” He leaned forward and slid his hands behind me, unhooking my bra. As he slid it off my arms, he smirked. “We’ll see.”

“Ah!” I jerked when he bit my nipple, when that finger slid inside of me again, when he added a second finger partway, making me feel so filled. Was he going to take my virginity with his fingers?

His mouth latched onto mine. My hips and legs braced, not moving an inch because Fisher’s fingers edged me out of my comfort zone.

What if he pushed them inside of me the whole way? Would it hurt? Would I bleed?

And then … they were gone. He stood at the end of the bed and removed his jeans, challenging me. I saw it in his eyes.

“I won’t do it. You don’t deserve it. You had your chance.” My bravery tank nearly hit empty.

“We’ll see.” He crawled onto the bed and his tongue went to work. Swiping between my legs. Flicking my nipples. Making a trail up my neck, and finally landing in my mouth, making slow strokes as his pelvis settled between my legs. That dangerous thin layer of cotton the only thing separating his dick from my entrance.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

I reminded myself that we had done this before. We’d been in that position. And we didn’t have sex.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

My hips lifted from the bed to meet him. That was when he pulled back. That was when he rolled onto his back, taking me with him so I sat on top of him, my legs straddling him right there.

With one look, he dared me to quit. And he dared me to keep going.

“No sex,” I nearly choked on the words.

Fisher jackknifed to sitting, his face a breath away from mine. “We’ll see.” He kissed me, tangling one hand in my hair while his other hand guided my hand beneath the waistband of his briefs.

So warm.

So hard.

I stroked him as he teased his tongue against mine.

I stroked him as he fingered me again, but just that agonizing partway.

Slow. Too slow.

The more I stroked him, the more I wanted more. Not just more. I wanted all of him.

He broke our kiss and stretched his torso to the side, opening the drawer to his nightstand and pulling out a condom.

That was when things got real.

Using his teeth, he tore it open, tossed the wrapper to the side, and pushed down the front of his briefs to roll it on.