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being trapped by him. “Yes…”
    He cut her breath short by biting her lip. “Yes what?”
    With the command, Dasha discerned a subtle shift in her brain, a release into a place filled with anticipation…and adoration. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
    “Good.” He pressed the word into her ear. “Very good.”
    Then he showed her his pleasure, revving the pace of his body inside hers again, deliberately pressing her clit with his upstrokes. Within a few minutes, she became a shuddering, needing ball of sensation, a creature she hardly knew, trembling and struggling to increase the friction between them. But the task was easier said than done. With his hands locking her wrists and his torso pinning her, Dasha could only shift her hips, trying to lift herself higher into him. She hoped a pleading sigh would earn a faster pace, but David kept his strokes at one torturous rhythm. He was doing a seven-veil tease on her pussy, now at its seventeenth veil.
    She cried out, certain she was going insane.
    “Hold it back.” The bastard ordered it into her ear at the second he glided in harder. Dasha gasped and arched her head back. Frustration slashed her bloodstream.
    “I—I don’t think I—”
    “You can. And you will.” He gripped her wrists tighter. His fingers dug into her palms, a pain she welcomed as distraction from the pulsing need at the center of her body.
    “I…want to please you.” She panted. “But it’s so hard. It’s so—”
    “What?” His voice was a husky, mesmeric cadence in her head. She loved it. She hated it. She wanted the one command he wouldn’t give. “What is it, Dasha?” he pressed. “Tell me what you feel. Tell me what I do to you.”
    She swallowed. “T-tah-tingles,” she stammered. Form the words. You can do this. Probably. Hopefully. “And…tremors. Even my skin is shaking. Tiny earthquakes, everywhere.”
    “Good,” he praised. “Good, baby. What else?”
    “You—you make me need it. God, David, please!”
    “I make you need what?” He slowed by just a half beat, purposely waiting. Then commanding with deep deliberation, “Say it. Give me the words. All of it, Dasha.”
    His emphasis dipped only a little. But that tiny scoop delved into a giant pool of meaning. All of it, Dasha. He was asking—no, ordering—something different with this second union of their bodies. Something deeper than what he did to her physically. He wanted to know what was going on in her head, her heart. And that was a white flag she couldn’t give.
    She rolled her face to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Please—can’t we just—”
    At once, he went still. “Just what?”
    Maybe a coy come-on would distract him from the scary stuff. She grabbed his ass and playfully bit her lip. “Please, Sir. Let’s just have a little fun.”
    She always knew he wasn’t like other men. He proved it the next second by pulling out of her and rocking back on his knees. She gasped in shock, but he leveled back a stare as silken as one of his Italian ties. “I want to give you what you need, sweetheart, but we’re not going any further without the words.”
    Dasha blinked in deeper amazement as he peeled the condom off his cock, which was clearly still ready to go at her. She almost laughed but realized there wasn’t a chance in hell David would join her. Instead, he gave her the stare she always referred to as “sharpened murder dagger.”
    Then, unbelievably, the bastard rose with more sinewy grace than a knight-errant finishing off a kill. Only she didn’t recall any medieval hero reaching back to offer a hand of assistance to his prey. Not that she was calling him a hero. A few terms came to mind but definitely not hero. She drove that point home by giving him nothing except her glower.
    “Let me get this straight,” she snapped. “You’ll help me get to my feet, but you won’t help me when I’m pinned on the floor underneath you, begging you to—to—”
    “To what?” It was a sincere