"Mine."
"What?"
"I should put you back over my knee, for that insolence, sub." He growled the words, pitching his voice deliberately as low as he could, and Neeve closed her eyes. She shook her head, but this time when he grasped her elbow and pulled her up against him, she came willingly.
He cupped her chin, and her eyes fluttered open at his whispered, "Look at me, my love."
The vulnerability and desperate hope he saw in her expressive orbs made his voice husky. "Sweet Neeve, I have no intention to ever let you go. From the minute you trusted me with your body and your mind, you were mine, and you always will be." She gasped at his words, and when she would have spoken he put one finger on her lips to silence her. "No, let me finish, sweetheart. I love the way you challenge me at every turn. I love your independent streak, your refusal to be anyone's property, because it makes your submission to me so much sweeter. You will have heard this before, I know, but it is the submissive who holds all the power in a Dom/sub relationship, and every relationship is different. We define ours. You and me, together. It's my job, as your Dom, to push and stretch you, to protect you from yourself." He paused and tapped her wrist to emphasize his point, and all the fight went out of her.
"I'm here to help you, Neeve. This has always been about your needs."
She frowned, and he could almost see the wheels turning in her head. When she finally spoke the last chunks of ice dissipated in the frantic beating of his heart.
"But, what about you? You must get something out of this, Sir?"
"I get your submission. You have no idea how beautiful you are when you give me your trust. To witness your responsiveness, your eagerness to please, it is the greatest gift you can give me. To hear you come screaming my name, begging for your release, that fulfills my needs. To know that you're mine and mine alone."
She leant closer into him while he spoke and wrapped her arms around his middle. With her ear pressed against his chest she would not be able to miss his frantic heartbeat.
"I won't ever wear any fucking collar, just so we're clear … Sir."
Grisha suppressed a smile at the renewed defiance in her voice.
"I suspected as much, my sweet Neeve. I will just have to try extra hard to convince you." She grumbled something under her breath and tried to kick his shin, but Grisha blocked the move easily. He spun her around and marched her over to the imposing Saint Andrew’s Cross. Her eyes grew wide, and her breath hitched when he kicked her legs apart and raised her arms above her head. He secured her arms in the padded wrist straps and leant down to kiss her. She sighed into the kiss and melted into him. He whipped the towel off her and secured her legs, too.
His heart burst with pride when she raised her head up to look at him. Spread wide for him to admire, her skin still showing the faint marks of his possession, she was his to do with as he pleased. But it was the trust and love he saw in her expressive eyes that had his tiger roll over in submission.
"You can try, Sir."
He smiled and stepped up to her to claim her mouth in a bruising kiss. She whimpered into his mouth and kissed him back. He framed her head with his large hands, the need to say the words he never thought he would, bursting from him.
"I love you, sub." She gasped, and a tremble went through her as he repeated the words in between kisses. He tasted her tears under his tongue, and his soul soared when she whispered her reply.
"I love you, Sir!"
The End
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Other Books by Doris O’Connor:
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Masks of a Tiger Page 9
