Page 217 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Declan

Turns out, I like watching her eat. I like cooking for her—something I don’t do very often, since I’m never home long enough to use the gleaming appliances in this kitchen.

What I like even more, though, is watching her squirm around in the chair trying to find a comfortable position.

No doubt, the welts on her butt are causing her an inconvenience.

She's feeling every one of those thin red marks I put on her unmarked backside.

And the blood. The sight of that one drop of blood turned my world completely upside down.

I’ve blood played before, but to see the blood I drew on her backside caused my heart to stutter.

And when I saw her blood on my dick, I swear it stopped for a second.

A primal, foreign sensation took a hold of me.

I cleaned her up, took care of her hurt backside, but I wasn’t able to leave.

I stood over her and watched her as she slept, and then her stomach grumbled.

I knew then, I couldn’t leave… Not yet. One last meal is allowed, right?

She's still my guest. And for tonight, at any rate, my sub.

I can take care of her. It's the right thing to do.

'Course, now I'm justifying myself. Which is not like me. It’s also a clear sign I need to get the hell away from her.

After I fuck her one more time. Just once more is allowed, right?

"You done?" I nod at her plate.

We’re seated at the breakfast table by the window.

Outside, it’s still dark. The lights of the city twinkle along the curved shore of Malibu on my right. Ahead, the sea stretches out, a black void. Like my life before she came into it.

Across the table, she shovels more food into her mouth.

When's the last time I ate with that kind of relish? For me, food is more than a fuel or something to enjoy. It's primarily a means to reach the kind of physique demanded of me for my movies. Not that I’m complaining. The hard work required to maintain the build that gives me an advantage over others is something I enjoy. The working out, the sweating, the grunting, the discipline of waking up at four a.m. and completing my workout is something that anchors me and grounds me. It reinforces the effort needed to hold onto the position I carved out at the top of the Hollywood food chain. So, it doesn’t explain why I'm ready to throw everything aside, throw her over my shoulder, and take her back to bed.

A-n-d, I need to seriously stop this train of thinking, right-fucking-now.

She finishes the last morsel of food on her plate and sets her fork down. "I am now."

I slide the glass of milk toward her. "Drink that."

She eyes it with distrust. "You want me to drink milk?"

"You’re going to need the energy."

She scowls at me. "And if I refuse?"

"Drink. The milk. Solene."

She reaches for the glass and drains it. "Happy?" She places the empty glass on the table with a snap.

"Definitely bratty."

She sticks out her tongue at me.

I smirk. "You’re going to be doing that again, and on command."

Before she can say anything, I push my chair back, then spread my legs. "On your knees."

"Excuse me?"

I glare at her. She pales, then sets her lips together. "Whatever."

"I’m going to fuck that sass out of you, baby."

She scoffs. "I’d like to see you try."

"Oh, I’m going to do more than that."

"Crawl to me."

Her cheeks pink. "What do you mean?"

"Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Our gazes clash and whatever she sees in mine must make her realize how serious I am.

She pushes back her chair and lowers herself to her knees, then places her palms on the floor.

She inches forward on her hands and knees under the short expanse of the table until she reaches me.

When she pauses, I nod toward the space between my legs.

"Come closer."

She shuffles forward until her shoulders touch my thighs on either side.

"Good girl."

She shudders. The pleasure the words bring her is so evident on her features.

She gazes up at me with a trusting look on her face, even as there’s confusion in her eyes and a hint of obstinance to the set of her chin.

It’s this push-pull within her that echoes the struggle inside me, which makes our interactions so addictive.

I want to own her, consume her, break down the stubbornness that makes her so alluring.

I want to crush her defiance, so she’ll obey me without hesitation.

I want to… Build her back up in a way that mirrors my devotion to her.

The kind of woman I’ve looked for my entire life knowing…

Always knowing, I’d already met her. I thought I’d lost her, but she’s right here in front of me.

I reach down and place my thumb on her bottom lip.

I apply pressure, and she closes her mouth around my digit.

She sucks on it, and I feel the pull all the way down to the crown of my cock.

I pull it out, then jerk my chin. I drag my gaze over the jut of her breasts covered by my shirt—she’s wearing my shirt, and fuck, if that doesn’t send the blood draining to my groin again.

Her chest rises and falls. Her breathing roughens.

She bites down on her lower lip, and fuck, if I don’t feel that at the crown of my cock.

"You want me to fuck you, Rabbit?"

She nods.

"You’re fucking perfect." I wrap my fingers about her nape, then bend and kiss her forehead.

"You have another virgin hole left. Will you let me have it?"

She swallows. Some of the color pales from her cheeks. The seconds stretch, then she nods.

"Are you sure? You don’t have to—"

"I’m sure."

Turn around, push your forehead into the ground, then pry your arse-cheeks apart and present yourself to me.

"I appreciate you agreeing, but you’re not ready yet."

She stills. "I’m ready."

"You’re ready when I say you are."

"And when will that be?"

"You’ll know it." I weigh her breasts through my shirt before circling the outline of her nipples, finally planting my palms on her hips and setting her aside.

She whines. "Are you going to fuck me now?"

I shake my head.

"Why not?" She pouts.

"Because." I raise a shoulder.

"That’s not an answer," she cries.

"That’s all your brattiness is getting from me." I rise to my feet and begin to walk away. For a few seconds, there’s silence. Then, "What the—" I hear the slap of her feet on the floor, then footsteps coming toward me. I turn in time to catch her as she flings herself at me.

"You’re getting predictable." I smirk.

She sets her jaw, narrows her gaze, then she slaps me.