pull I felt towards him had become sexual.
It was so stupid that even now I cringed to think about it.
One Christmas, a friend of his father’s had come over and he’d brought his little dog. The dog had been anxious and had started barking and being aggressive. But Xander had simply given it a stern look and told it to sit down and be quiet. And there had been something in his voice, a note of quiet authority that had made my knees go weak. The dog had done exactly what he’d said and then he’d sat down beside the animal, stroking it gently, telling it what a good dog it was. And the dog had simply slumped against his feet like he’d found a new master.
I’d wanted to be that animal in that moment. I’d wanted to be the one he told to sit down and be quiet. So I could stop fighting, stop trying to be someone different and just be me. To rest against him and have him stroke me, tell me what a good girl I was. Be at peace with myself.
Have his hand on my skin. Do whatever he said. Please him.
I’d never had those thoughts about anyone else. Just him.
And right now, sitting on the desk, staring into his demanding dark eyes with his hands on my skin, I felt it again. The need to show him I could be good. To have his attention and his praise. To stop fighting the desperate pull I had towards him and simply accept it.
‘Yes,’ I said thickly, helplessly. ‘I’m ready.’
His gaze flared and he didn’t hesitate, sliding his hand all the way up between my thighs until his fingers brushed over the front of my knickers.
I gasped. The touch was electric, making me shudder, the expression on his face turning feral with satisfaction.
‘You’re wet.’ His voice was gravelly and so deep I could feel the vibration of it in my chest. ‘You want me, don’t you?’ His fingers began to trace the folds of my sex through the lace of my underwear, his touch light in sharp contrast to the ferocity burning in his eyes.
I shuddered again as sharp bolts of pleasure scattered through me. ‘I...’
‘Tell me, bad girl,’ he demanded. ‘Tell me how much you want me.’
‘B-Bad girl?’ I tried for my usual snark, desperate for any kind of barrier to hide behind. ‘Seriously?’
The dark flames in his gaze blazed, his fingers moving higher, finding my clit and circling.
I groaned and lifted my hands, wanting to touch him, hang on to him because the desk was tilting, I was sure of it, and if I wasn’t careful I was going to slide right off.
‘Hands on the desk.’ The order was hard and flat as he continued that maddening touch between my thighs. ‘And keep them there. You don’t get to touch me yet. Not until you give me what I want.’
I put my hands down, helpless to resist the command. ‘Xander,’ I panted. ‘I... I...’
‘You what?’ The last word was vicious as his fingers hooked into the lace of my knickers and jerked them aside. ‘You’re hot and wet and desperate for my cock?’ He touched my slick, bare flesh and I couldn’t hold back the desperate moan as raw pleasure licked up inside me. ‘Is that what you meant to say?’
I swayed, gripping onto the edge of the desk so tightly my knuckles went white. I didn’t want to give in, I so didn’t, but he was driving me insane. How many times had I imagined him touching me? How many times had I lain by myself in the darkness of my bedroom, imagining him giving me orders and me obeying them?
Hundreds of times. Thousands. Countless.
‘No,’ I forced out, trying to resist the urge to open my thighs wider, lift my hips against his hand. ‘That’s not wh-what I meant to say.’
‘You’re such a liar, Poppy.’ His fingers slid through my folds, a firm, deliberate pressure. ‘Why are you lying? When I can feel how much you want me?’
‘I’m...not...l-lying,’ I said through my teeth, even as my pussy throbbed and ached, desperate for more of his touch.
Gently he took a fistful of my hair and drew my head back, forcing me to look at him. And I didn’t protest. I needed to look into those mesmerising black eyes, to ground myself. Because the pleasure was eating me alive and I didn’t know what to do with it.
‘You want me,’ he said relentlessly. ‘You’re desperate for me. I can feel it. You’re practically coming all over my fingers already.’
My face flamed. There was no way I could deny it, not now. And when one of those long, clever fingers pushed gently into me, I jerked, a low, animal sound of pleasure escaping my throat.
‘How long?’ His voice was guttural, his fingers in my hair winding tighter, pulling my head back even further. ‘How long have you wanted me?’
There was no resisting his authority, no resisting him.
‘S-Since...’ When had it been? That Christmas? My brain wasn’t working and then his finger eased deeper, pushing against the walls of my sex and I lost my train of thought entirely. I was so wet there was no resistance. My thighs trembled and it was all I could do not to shift against his hand.
‘Tell me.’
‘Christmas,’ I gasped. ‘Five, six years ago.’
‘Why Christmas?’ His fingers curled inside me, his thumb stroking over my clit.
I groaned, looking up into his dark eyes, the truth spilling out of me even though I didn’t want it to. ‘Your dad’s friend had a dog. And it was jumping up. You told it to sit down and be quiet, and then you stroked it.’ I couldn’t stop the words; they kept coming. ‘I wanted you to do that to me. I wanted you to tell me to sit down and be quiet. And then I wanted you to stroke me.’
Shit, why had I told him that? It was the most embarrassing thing on earth.
Yet there was no surprise in his face. It was as if he’d been expecting that explanation all along. ‘Why did you want that?’
‘Because I wanted your attention.’ I don’t know why I kept going. Then again, I’d told him everything else. What was one more humiliation? ‘I wanted you to l-look at me. To touch me.’
He was all dark, magnetic fury and burning heat. ‘You know that seals it, don’t you? Knowing that you wanted me. Because now I’m going to punish you for that kiss and for holding out on me.’ His thumb began a slow back and forth, stroking my clit. ‘If you want my cock you’re going to have to beg for it. That’s your punishment, Poppy.’
I shuddered at the hot shock of pleasure that went through me at the rough, dirty words. At the demand in them. At the thought of begging him for what I wanted.
And I did want it. I’d wanted it for so long I couldn’t even remember what it felt like not to want it.
Thoughts went through my head, vague warning thoughts about how this was a slippery slope. And how if I started begging Xander for what I wanted now, and started taking his orders, then there was nothing to separate me from my mother.
But his fingers were moving between
