Page 67 of First Impressions (Passion and Perseverance #1)

Her over-stimulated senses were on edge immediately at the friction and pressure of having him thrusting, burying himself inside her.

She managed to open her eyes and look up at him.

Every muscle taut, his hands gripping her hips like his life depended on it as he drove into her.

His head was thrown back, neck and jaw muscles clenched; God, he is gorgeous.

“Please,” she whimpered, begging for release.

His hand found her clit and it took one experienced stroke to send her soaring over the edge.

Her scream pierced the air as her orgasm rocked through her.

Her muscles clenching around him, he roared as he slammed into her, finding his own release.

For a minute, they both simultaneously rocked against each other, riding out the waves of their pleasure.

Collapsing again against her restraints, she vaguely felt through the haze of pleasure that the restraints were beginning to cut into her skin causing a sharp, burning pain at any slight movement.

“Darcy,” she said breathlessly, “please...it hurts.”

The pain transmitted in her voice roused him and he immediately looked at her with concern. He turned and ran his hands from her hips down her legs to the ties at her ankles, seeing the damage the ties were doing.

“Fuck,” he cursed as pulled abruptly out of her and freed her ankles and wrists. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Her relief was palpable even though her joints had been rubbed raw by the ties and burned a bright red; she knew they were going to be bruised tomorrow. His jaw was clenching so hard as he threw the ties onto the floor.

She pushed herself up so she was sitting against the headboard of the bed and began to inspect her injured flesh.

“God, Beth,” he began, strained, “I’m sorry. I don’t —. I haven’t —. Fuck me. I’m sorry.” He was clearly angry at himself for how he had treated her. At a loss for words he abruptly stalked into the bathroom, returning with a warm moist washcloth .

When he sat down on the bed next to her, she inched away from him, anger and confusion in her eyes. Defeated, he held out his hand for her to take the washcloth.

“What is wrong with you?” she asked accusingly, “How could you do that — push me against myself?”

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry, Beth. I can’t explain what came over me.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “I just needed you so badly,” he ended quietly.

Grabbing the washcloth from his hand, she quickly slid off the bed.

“Well, you need to figure out a way to explain it because if you keep using my need, my desire for you against me, I don’t know what is going to happen. Now, I need to go to work. ” With that threatening statement, she stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Leaning back against the door she took a shaky breath to calm herself, ignoring the rogue few tears that trailed down her cheeks.

How was this ever going to work?!

Yes, she was pissed at him for tying her up and pleasuring her into submission but she was even more pissed at herself because she was such a pushover around him.

She wanted him; she wanted to be with him; she wanted to stay home from work with him.

But that wasn’t the point. She needed to maintain her own life if this was ever going to work - and especially if it wasn’t.

The struggle between the part of her that was her independent, proud self, and the part of her that was the closet, hopeless romantic waiting to be swept off her feet made keeping Darcy in his place difficult.

She knew that for both their sakes, for the sake of their relationship, he had to relinquish some control; it was hard to force him to do that when all her body wanted to do was to let him take control.

She turned the shower on cold and stepped right in - a frigid punishment for letting her emotions get the best of her around him.

Well, no more, she thought as she took the fastest shower ever.

Wrapping her towel tightly around her, she steeled herself to face him again, knowing that whatever needed to be said was going to have to wait until tonight because she needed to be to the office five minutes ago .

She opened the bathroom door to an empty bedroom.

Too stressed and rushed and just emotionally unprepared to confront him again, she quickly got dressed - thankful that he had left her in peace.

The limited wardrobe she had at his place luckily contained a long-sleeve blouse and pants to hide the red marks marring her wrists and ankles.

Walking out of the bedroom, she didn’t see or hear him anywhere.

She wished she was less nosey as she began to quickly check all the rooms in the penthouse.

As angry as she was, she wanted to see him before she left but he was nowhere to be found.

She’d just checked the spare bedroom past the office when she heard a loud crack coming from behind the locked door at the end of the hall.

Startled, she placed her ear up against the door but again heard nothing.

You don’t have time for this, Beth.

Her mind was right, she had to get to work. She didn’t know what was behind that door in the first place, let alone if it was actually Darcy in there. Grabbing her laptop bag and purse, she rushed out of the apartment praying that traffic wouldn’t be a nightmare this morning.

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