Rogue by Julia Sykes Page B

and
     musk.
    “You did so well.”  His dark honey voice dripped across my skin, and my eyes opened
     to find him smiling down at me.  There was no arrogance or teasing in the tilt of
     his lips, only pure, masculine satisfaction.  His eyes were hooded with his own sense
     of blissed-out languor.
    Something hard pressed insistently against my ass.
    His cock.
    For an instant, my own pleasure spiked at the knowledge of his arousal, but seconds
     later it was chased away by budding panic.
    I was cradled in Derek’s arms, positioned across his lap where he lay on the bed,
     his back propped up against the pillows.  My torso rested against his chest, and my
     fingers were splayed across his stomach.  His defined abs rippled beneath his thin
     black t-shirt with every heavy breath he took.
    I was cuddled in the arms of my mark.  I had made myself completely vulnerable to
     him, despite all my determination to hold my own in his presence.  And the insistent
     throbbing between my legs told me I liked being vulnerable to him.
    It took effort to press my hands against his hard chest in a vain effort to distance
     myself from him.  His arms tightened around me, and he shot me a reproving look. 
     The displeasure in his eyes almost made me crumble.
    God, where was my head?  His delicious heat seemed to have melted my brain as well
     as my insides.
    “Let me go,” I demanded shakily.
    “No,” he calmly refused.  “You hit subspace, and I’m not going to let you drop.  This
     is aftercare.  You will accept it.”
    Subspace?  Aftercare?
    Derek sighed, recognizing my confusion.  “Subspace is a place submissives reach when
     they completely let go.  It’s the ultimate high for a sub.”  He gave me a little squeeze,
     obviously unwilling to put a millimeter of space between us.  “Doms can get a high
     as well.  I found my own Topspace.”  His fingers brushed across my cheekbone.  “You’re
     a beautiful submissive, Sharon.”
    My pleasure at his approval was quickly doused by fear.
    Natural submissive.  No no no!
    Everything was going to shit.  I didn’t want this.  I didn’t want to lose myself around
     my mark.  I was strong, independent.  I didn’t want to be a submissive.
    My sudden hatred for the blissful high I had just enjoyed made tears burn at the corners
     of my eyes.  Derek frowned and tapped the center of my forehead.
    “Stop it.  Stop thinking.  You’re going to drop.  I won’t allow that.”  His hand rubbed
     my back in a soothing motion, and the slight pain it elicited from my abused flesh
     nearly made my high return.
    “No!”  My protest was panicked.  I might have been ashamed of my evident weakness,
     but all I could focus on was my fear of losing myself again.  “I don’t want this.” 
     I remembered my safe word.  “Red.  Red.”
    Derek released me instantly, and I scrambled away from him.  I turned my back on him,
     frantically searching for my shirt.  My hands shook so violently that I could barely
     button it.  Only when my body was covered did I turn back to Derek.  He was on his
     feet, and his entire body was taut with his disapproval, but he kept several feet
     of space between us.
    “This is a mistake, Sharon.  Let me help you.  Let me hold you.”  His tone was almost
     beseeching.
    “I told you I don’t want you to touch me,” I said through gritted teeth.
    Derek scowled.  “You did,” he allowed.  “But it’s a Dom’s responsibility to care for
     his sub after an intense scene.  If you want to learn to be a Domme, you have to respect
     that.  You can’t just leave a vulnerable sub cold.  She’ll drop.  That’s what you’re
     doing right now.”
    His fingers curled at his sides as he restrained himself from reaching for me.  He
     was torn between his promise to respect my wishes and his desire to care for me.
    No.  It wasn’t just desire.  It was need.  The turmoil in his eyes let me know that
     he needed to hold me