Excerpt for I Will Not Beg | Cherise Sinclair
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I Will Not Beg

Despite his lazy stance, Sir Ethan simmered with an aura of lethal power. That was his personality—purely dominant. The air of command was amplified by his appearance. A perfectly tailored white shirt showcased broad shoulders. Designer-scruff shadowed a strong jaw. Scarred, deadly hands.

A flutter of desire rose up. Piper wanted him. Had always wanted him.

He waited, watching her with patient eyes. Giving her the choice. Talk or leave or…continue.

She could continue.

Her gaze lifted, and she saw how his lips were tipping up. When she met his eyes, the floor started to sink. She took a step forward—her choice—and his arms closed around her.

He drew her up onto her tiptoes and thoroughly, mercilessly, kissed away the last lingering hint of anxiety, leaving only excitement behind.

God, how did he do that?

In no hurry, he unbuttoned her shirt partway and slowly traced burning lines over each inch of newly bared skin. He pushed the garment down from her shoulders to her elbows, trapping her arms at her sides. Her bra straps followed, adding to the clothing restraint.

Intent eyes held hers as he cupped her breasts, lifted, weighed, kneaded. “You have beautiful breasts. Did I mention that before?”

She could only swallow. Her breasts swelled under his caresses, the skin tightening. His confident fingers stroked beneath, over, circling. Never touching her aching nipples. She pressed against him, wanting more.

He chuckled and ignored her silent plea.

When he finally touched one nipple and rolled it between his fingers, electricity shot through her in torrid streaks, searing outward and downward. Her eyes closed against the overwhelming urgency.

“Eyes on me, poppet,” he said softly.

She forced her eyes open, and he brushed a kiss over her mouth. “I like looking into your eyes, seeing your need, seeing all the things you don’t say.”

He curled his palm under her right breast, holding it firmly, like a tether, as with his other hand, he rolled the nipple and pinched the tip.

Heat sheeted through her like hot rain. She stared up at him, transfixed by his heavy-lidded stare, secured from even moving by his ruthless hold on her breast. Her legs began to shake.

“Very nice. Let’s find a more appropriate location to continue.” He unbuttoned the rest of her shirt and undid the front clasp of her bra. “Remove these, please.”

She blinked, then slid her shirt and bra off, laying them on the couch.

His gaze was warm as he drew a fingertip over her collarbone, between her breasts, down her stomach, making her acutely aware that she was naked from the waist up. Hot tingles trailed in the wake of his touch.

With a warm hand on the bare skin of her lower back, he guided her to the stairway, up a few steps, and halted. “Pants off.”

She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat and unbuckled her belt. After unbuttoning, she lowered the zipper and pushed her pants down. Stepping out, she leaned down to pick them up.

A hand on her nape kept her bent as he stroked along the edge of her thong. Could a fingertip sizzle? His merciless grip on her neck contrasted with the teasingly insistent touch over the exposed part of her buttocks and her hips, continuing until she was so very aware—and resentful—of the barrier of her underwear.

A light tug on her hair straightened her.

Up several more stairs. Her heart rate increased with each step.

He stopped. His murmured, “Thong off, now,” sent a shudder of need through her.

She slid the black lace garment down, stepped out, and leaned down to pick it up. His hand between her shoulder blades kept her bent in half.

“Hang onto the railing, please.” He curled her fingers around the lower railing, then patted her right knee. “Move this foot up two steps.”

Oh my God. Her head spun. Bent in half, clinging to the railing with both hands, she moved her foot up.

“That’s perfect, pet.” With firm fingers, he kneaded her buttocks and ran his fingertips over the crease between her bottom and thighs.

She shivered and moved slightly. His palm flattened on her low back to hold her still.

Heart thumping hard, she waited for the sound of his zipper. She wasn’t scared; the heat inside her had burned the fear to ash.

“You’re such a brave girl.” His hand moved lower. Down her buttocks. Brushed over her inner thighs.

Expecting him to take her—not touch her, she jerked.

“Don’t move, subbie.” The steel in the mesmerizingly smooth voice froze her in place.

His hand slid between her legs in an unhurried exploration of her slick pussy. His fingers traced her recesses, from puckered rim to her mound. One finger skated past her clit and brushed over the top. Just that lightest of touches sent shockwaves of excitement shooting through her.

Slowly he moved his finger down to her entrance and slid inside. Invading, probing. She jerked at the intimacy.

His low voice was a caress—and a command. “Don’t move, Piper.”

Curling his finger, he massaged a sensitive area with unerring precision, pressing harder, sending desire roaring through her. Her insides began to gather in a coil of excitement.

He pulled back, then worked two fingers in, stretching her, taking control from her with every touch.

When he stepped back, she barely smothered the whimper of need.

“Up you come, poppet.” His grip on her upper arm helped her stand upright.

Her legs were wobbly, her pussy so wet she could feel the moisture on her inner thighs.

He held her steady as he guided her up the stairs to the bedroom.

She’d seen his bedroom before. But this time, the black metal canopy bed was different. Huge. The geometric design above the padded headboard seemed ominous…and erotic.

He stopped her in the center of the room. “Stand right here.”

Her heart galloped against the inside of her rib cage. With her head bowed, all she could see were her toes curling in the off-white carpet, his pant legs, and his sock-clad feet.

She was naked; he was dressed.

He walked in a leisurely circle around her, trailing his fingers against her bare skin. “You have a lovely body, Piper. Beautiful legs. I like the curve of your hips, the roundness of your arse.” His hand curved over her bottom and squeezed.

He liked the way she looked. The inside of her chest felt as if the sun was warming it.

Moving in front of her, he lifted her chin and took her lips—not gently, but devastatingly possessive and deep. He gripped her hair to pull her head back farther. An iron-hard arm held her against him.

The room swirled, blurring everything except the feel of his mouth, the ownership of his tongue.

“Mmm.” He rubbed his cheek against hers, his jawline beard softly abrasive. “Piper, look at me.” The command was a masculine rumble in her ear before he straightened.

“Sir?” She met his gaze.

“You told me your limits. Now I’d like to find out what you enjoy.” He smiled slightly.

She almost sighed, wanting him to kiss her again. His lips were so firm and yet soft and—

“I need a yes from you if you want to continue.” He pulled the scrunchie from her ponytail and finger combed her hair to fall in wavy tickles past her shoulders. “Or you can say no, and we’ll simply stop at this point. That’s allowed, poppet.”

As he stepped back from her and waited, her thoughts stuttered. She could tell him no…at this late stage? She could see his thick erection straining against his pants. He wanted her.

But he’d stop. If that was what she wanted. The difference between him and the one before had never seemed so vast. Her agreement mattered to him. “Yes. Please.”

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