Page 116 of Guarded Love

His eyes widen slightly. "What?"

"You heard me." I settle more fully into his lap, and his hard cock pressed against my core through our clothes makes us both inhale sharply. "I want to see how long you can behave yourself."

"This is already fucking torture," he says, but his hands stay exactly where I put them.

"Good." I roll my hips slowly, deliberately, watching his face as I grind against him through his jeans and my leggings. "I like seeing you like this. All wound up and desperate for me."

His knuckles go white as his grip on the seat tightens. "Fuck, kitten."

The pet name makes me move faster, finding a rhythm that has both of us breathing hard within seconds. The friction is perfect, even through our clothes, and I can feel how hard he is beneath me.

"You like this, don't you?" I whisper in his ear before I run my tongue along the edge of his jaw. "Being told what to do?"

"At times, yes," he admits. "Fuck, yes."

"That's what I like to hear." I lean back slightly so I can look at him properly. I brace my hands on his shoulders for balance and to not embarrass myself if I fall over. "You're being such a good boy, keeping your hands exactly where I told you to."

His jaw clenches at the praise, and I feel his cock twitch beneath me. The reaction makes me grin wickedly.

"Tell me what you want," I command, slowing my movements to an agonizing pace that leaves us both struggling to maintain our positions.

"I want—" He stops, swallowing hard as I circle my hips in a way that makes his eyes nearly roll back. "I want you to keep doing exactly what you're doing."

"Just this?" I grind down harder, watching the way his mouth falls open. "Nothing else?"

"Fuck." The word comes out strangled. "I want these clothes gone. I want to be inside you. I want to make you come so hard that you forget your own name."

"Mmm, that sounds tempting." I trace my fingers along the collar of his shirt. "But I think I like having you at my mercy like this."

"You're going to kill me," he gasps as I find a particularly good angle that makes us both moan.

"What a way to go though," I tease, picking up the pace just enough to make his hands move toward me before he catches himself.

"Willow, please?—"

"Please what? Use your words and tell me what you want." I’m so glad I can finally throw that back at him.

His head falls back against the headrest. "Please let me touch you. I need to feel you."

I consider his request as I’m watching the way he's fighting every instinct to grab me. The control he's showing, the way he's letting me lead, makes me want to reward him.

"Not yet," I decide, earning a frustrated groan. "You haven't been good long enough."

But even as I say it, I can feel my own control slipping. Getting properly fucked after a long, stressful day is just what any doctor would order, or that’s my belief. However, this isn't just about getting off in the front seat of my car. This is about something deeper, something I've been craving without even realizing it. Control. The ability to call the shots, to have someone as composed and careful as Blaise completely at my mercy.

"You're shaking," I say, taking on the role of Captain Obvious.

"You're making it impossible to think straight," he manages to get out.

I lean forward until my mouth is right against his ear. "Good. I don't want you thinking. This should be nothing but pure instinct at this point. Fuck," I whisper as I start to feel my own release coming closer. I didn’t think I’d even get close just from doing this.

"Let me touch you," he pleads again. "Please, kitten. I need to feel you."

The desperation in his voice nearly breaks my willpower. Or maybe I'm just getting too close to the edge to care about power games anymore.

“Wait. I have something to show you," I say. I sit back just enough to unzip my coat.

It only takes him a second to realize what I have on. “My jersey? Wait what?—”