“Would you prefer to obey me because you’re frightened for your life?” he asks casually. I can’t work out if this is a threat. He seems genuinely interested.

“I’m opting for not obeying for any reason whatsoever.” I pace back to the chair I slept in and slump down in it, making a point of looking out the window. Anywhere but at him and what he’s doing to himself.

“Fair enough.” He doesn’t even sound bothered. He’s watching me, though; I can feel his focus heavy on my skin. The room falls quiet other than the sounds of his palm working his cock and the increasingly ragged sound of his breathing. How can a guy just blatantly jerk himself off, naked, and not even flinch when the woman he’s trying to excite seems more revolted than interested? What a nutjob. I shoot a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His body is a fucking work of art. Especially strained the way it is, locked tight against each stroke he glides up and down with his palm. He grips his hand tighter around himself, and sucks in a sharp breath. He chuckles slightly when he sees me watching him. I flick my eyes back out the window, cursing myself. Don’t play this fucking game. Do not play with him.

It’s only a matter of a minute before I’m glancing back, though. He lets out a low, hazy kind of rumble from deep within his chest and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. My legs start to twitch. I’m doing my best to ignore the warm, pooling sensation that’s forming between them. Bastard. How? How the hell does he do this to me? I shift slightly, warring with my body, trying to make it obey me and not him. But it wants to watch him. God, I do want to watch him. He doesn’t laugh when he sees me observing this time. He just looks down at himself, hooded eyes filled with sex and invitation. And then he closes them and tips his head back, and leaves me alone to come to my own decision. His hand works a little faster, making his breathing quicken with it.

I’m left sitting, wondering what the hell I want to do. I’ve had this conversation with myself before, though. He’s unbelievably smart. He continually shows me what he can take from me if he wants to, and then turns the tables on me, making me realize how much I want him to have it anyway. How much I want to give it to him. I hate that. On principle I want to not succumb to the manipulation this time. To show the bastard he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. Only he is. He’s an evil fucking mastermind.

I stand up.

At the sound of movement, a broad smile unfurls across Zeth’s face, but he keeps his eyes closed. Probably to save what’s left of my fragile pride. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Every single time we do this I’m coming to him on his terms, but can I stop myself? No. I’m pathetic. I lose my clothes slowly, even though he can’t see, giving myself time to change my mind. But I don’t. Instead I find myself crawling up the bed just like he wants me to, and then hovering over his hand as he smoothly works his cock up and down. It’s swollen, freaking huge, and kind of beautiful. I exhale and my breath skims across his skin, making him shiver dramatically.

“I wanna feel those lips, Sloane,” he says gruffly.

“Oh, so it’s okay to have them on your dick but not on your mouth?” I snap tersely. He stiffens a little but chooses not to reply. Complete fucker. I have something in mind to teach him a lesson. I bend my neck down to him, feeling my racing heartbeat in my lips before I take him in my mouth. This is different to the one other time I’ve done this to him. That time I was on my back. He’d towered over me like a giant, his presence still somehow looming in the dark hotel room. His hands had been securely fastened in my hair, guiding my head. Not now, though. Zeth doesn’t even touch me. At the first contact from my lips, his digs his fingers into the bed sheets, not gripping hold of them but pressing down against the mattress with all his strength. He’s huge in my mouth, warm and already tasting musky. I bob my head a little lower, taking more of him inside me.

“Holy shit, Sloane.” His groaned, impossibly deep words have a rather gratifying effect. He likes this. He likes it and technically I’m the one who’s in control right now. Time for a little payback. I duck my head lower, taking more of him into my mouth, until I can’t go any farther. And then I bite down. Not very hard. Just enough to let him know he hasn’t entirely won this round.

The reaction is instant.

He flings me off him so fast I barely catch sight of the ceiling before I’m on my back and then sliding off the bed and onto the floor.

“Oh, no, no, no, Sloane,” he growls, stalking toward me. “Slapping’s one thing. But that—you’re gonna wish you hadn’t done that.” His face is devoid of all emotion, which makes me think he’s way madder than I’ve seen him before. From my concertinaed position on the floor, legs still half on the bed, half over my own head, I should be freaking the fuck out, but I’m not. I’m laughing.

That hysteria lasts all of ten seconds as he gets up and paces to the other side of the room, opening up the walk-in closet beyond. My smile dissolves at the sight of the black bag in his hand. I’m instantly turned on and terrified. Will he let me change my mind right now? I don’t think he will. Fuck!

“Get up onto the bed, Sloane,” he commands. He throws the bag down at the side of the bed and begins to unzip it.

“No.”

He stops, looks up at me, leans forward and says, “Do we really need to go through this again? You reap what you sow, Sloane. It’s time for you to learn how to behave.” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge. I know he means business now. He gave me a small amount of power and I abused it. And now I have to suffer the consequences. And yet, deep down, I think I’ve been waiting for this to happen. And…wanting it to. I ease back up onto the bed as cautiously as possible. Zeth nods once and finishes opening the bag.