“I have been very bad. Very bad indeed. I’m afraid I’ll need hours of punishment.” My skin is on fire, my breath coming quickly. I lick my lips, and Thorne’s eyes trace the movement with predatory intent. I can’t keep a shudder of satisfaction from washing over me. An arm wraps around my waist, and he spins me quickly so that he’s behind me. His hands caress my hips slowly and with the awe of a male starved for touch. One hand leaves my hip and slowly wraps up in my hair, pulling my head back with a gentle tug. It’s exhilarating. “Do you know how my cock ached every time this ass pressed against me in training?” he murmurs, grinding into my backside and increasing the pressure of his tug on my hair. I can feel the way it affects him, hard length pressing into me, and my thighs clench with need. “I would wait for just the right moment to get the upper hand on you, every day looking forward to pressing my body up against yours.” I let out a whimper, and his other hand leaves my hip to cradle my breast. He circles my nipple with his fingers, while his other hand continues to tug my head back into him, forcing me to arch my back toward him in pure need.

“Laurel,” he growls in my ear, and my toes curl. Every nerve in my body is alight, anticipation making me hot and flushed. Now I’m the one grinding against him, and I can practically feel the smugness enter his body. He presses once more into my ass with that hard length. “When you decide you’re ready to accept this, to lay claim to me, I’m going to take you from behind so hard you won’t remember your name.” Lightning sparks in my core, but he releases me. “But not until you’re sure.” With that, he walks away, casually trailing his hand over the back of the leather sofa. Chills race along my body in his absence, and my need demands that I push him down on the chair closest to us and ride him until we both forget who and what we are. But my rationale wins out, and I take a few steadying breaths. “Ready to go speak with Admon?” he asks, eyes shimmering with playfulness and the satisfaction of winning whatever game we’re playing.

“I—er—I need to change.” It’s an excuse to get a moment to collect myself alone in my closet, to pull myself together and attempt to get a handle on this bone deep need. He merely sits down in a chair and picks up a book I left on the side table next to it.