Read Resist (Songs of Submission #6) for Free Online Page B

caused by his forcefulness were overpowering.
    He took his hand off my throat and ran it along my belly, to my thighs, inside them. He found the crotch of my panties and pulled them off. Then, without a pause, he pushed me onto the lunch table. The metal legs scraped the linoleum as he slid me back and bent my legs so my sopping pussy lay before him.
    “You’re not fucking my decision out of me.”
    Standing between my legs, he unbuckled his belt. “Don’t make me gag you.”
    I held up my middle finger. He smiled as if he couldn’t help it then grabbed my hand and held it down, hard. His thumb dug into my wrist, and I knew my expression broadcast pain. My legs tightened and closed, but he pushed them apart.
    “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to shut the hell up for the fucking duration.” He drove into me without an ounce more warning. He fucked me as if he owned me, my body bent, powerless, exposed.
    He told me to take it, but he was the one who was doing the taking. He held the meat of my thighs, spreading my legs. The pain of his hands digging into my skin, his banging cock, him standing over me in dominion. I’d never look at those humming fluorescent lights without feeling a buzz in my cunt again.
    I got up on my elbows, and he pushed me back down. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
    “I’m going to—”
    “You are not.”
    I was going to come. A tsunami of pleasure rushed over the horizon, rising waters pooled at my feet, ankles, knees. I had another half a minute to complete oblivion. But his eyes shut and he grunted, then moaned, pushing into me slowly. He was coming, motherfucker, and he’d never just come because he couldn’t help it. Outside the first time he fucked me without a condom, he never lost control. Jonathan’s orgasms always had a purpose.
    Taking his hands off my thighs, he leaned in. “Give me a number between one and ten.”
    “Two.”
    “Forget that, then. Between five and ten.”
    “Seven.”
    “That’s how many times you’re coming before sunrise. But you have to come home with me.”
    “You son of a bitch. We’re playing orgasm games again?” I asked.
    “You’re being a poor sport.”
    I got up on my elbows, feeling done with that conversation already. “Tomorrow’s my day off, and I want to work on some songs.”
    “I have a piano.”
    “All my staff pads are at home. All my notes. Forget it.”
    He picked me up gently by my biceps, but his fingertips sent bolts of not-so-sexy pain through them. He must have seen me flinch. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine.”
    “I’ll come to your place. Let me drive. Please. Give me a couple of hours to do nothing but make you squirm.” He tugged at my skirt, and I hoisted myself up so he could get it back in place.
    I put my arms over his shoulders and kissed him. I couldn’t help it. I had absolutely no choice. His lips sat so close to mine, and they were so responsive. His tongue ignited the smoldering fire between my legs. I wrapped my legs around him, letting his mouth take mine.
    “My place until sunrise,” I said as he kissed my jaw, then my neck. “Then you get the hell out so I can get to work.”
    “To write,” he whispered.
    “Yes.”
    “You promise?”
    I pulled away. “I might also go to the bathroom once or twice. Do I need to fill out a form or call you first?”
    A smile drew across his lips. A joke was incoming, but there was a click as the door was unlocked from the outside. Jonathan got his dick back in his pants before the cleaning crew swung the door open.

Chapter 12.
    “Saying I don’t know what I’m dealing with is plain insulting.”
    We were on the matte black rocket, which I loved because I had my arms around him, inside his jacket, and I could feel the angles and bumps of his body. I’d tucked my skirt around my thighs to his satisfaction so I wouldn’t expose my pantie-less glory to Los Angeles. Once that was settled, he’d put my helmet on me as if to cut off