Just like the last time he’d spanked her, he was dying to fuck her. Like the last two years of avoiding every opportunity to touch her had never existed.

Letting out a harsh breath, Thorpe dragged his stinging palm over her burning backside, slowly soothing out the ache.

“Time to apologize, pet.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Her voice was slurred.

Callie sounded mostly sincere. He smiled, despite the shitty mess he found himself in.

How long could he keep this girl believing that he didn’t want her with every breath he drew?

On the other hand, what else could he do? Melissa had upended his world after she’d promised to love him until death parted them, then suddenly served him with divorce papers. And that just topped the stinking pile of shit. As much as he adored Callie, he couldn’t risk his heart, especially for a woman with one foot out the door.

Minus any easy answers, Thorpe gathered the pliant beauty into his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder. With his chest tight and aching, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, savoring her nearness.

“What did Sean say to upset you?”

“That he loves me.”

Thorpe winced. He’d known that, but hearing her admit it still jabbed him. He forced himself to smooth his features and lifted her chin with one hand. “Why did that make you cry?”

Slowly, she blinked, opening her eyes, and focusing that dazed blue stare on him. “I shouldn’t love anyone.” Callie lifted her hand and cupped his jaw, smoothing her thumb over his cheek. “But it’s too late. It has been for a long time.”

His heart lurched. Jesus, her feelings weren’t a surprise, not really. The unspoken emotions between them had been the neon billboard in the room for years.

He wrapped her hand in his and drew it away from his face. “You have feelings for Kirkpatrick, too?”

“Yes.” Her eyes clouded over. Tears leaked out. “I’m so confused.”

Of course she was. She didn’t have the life experience to deal with this shit. Hell, he was significantly older and he didn’t feel equipped to handle it, either.

Sean’s words haunted him. She needs tender guidance. Thorpe had guided her, all right. But he’d never been able to do it tenderly. Boundaries and protection he could give her without compromising his heart, but seeing the love in her eyes now as she pressed her fragile body against him . . . Everything about her was killing his resolve to remain aloof.

“Callie, pet. You can’t leave me.” His voice croaked, and an unfamiliar sting prickled his eyes.

He slammed his lids down. Damn it, he could not afford this weakness.

“Better for you if I do.” She sounded so damn sad.

Thorpe shook his head, holding her closer. “You’d ruin me, pet. In fact, I think you already have.”

Callie threw her arms around him, her breath warm against his neck. He gripped her tighter. Normally, he’d wish he hadn’t spilled his guts . . . but he would try if any bit of the truth kept her with him.

“You’ll be my biggest regret,” she whispered.

Goddamn it, that hurt.

Maybe he should simply admit that he knew she was a fugitive. Almost as quickly, Thorpe dismissed the idea. If she was insistent on running now, he suspected that divulging what he knew would only make Callie more determined to flee.

He held her tighter, taking in everything that made her uniquely Callie. The firm little curves of her body, those long lashes against her fair cheeks, her fingers digging into his shirtfront as if seeking reassurance. This close, he smelled her citrus shampoo and the remnants of the hair color he knew she used as a disguise. Her signature pink polish colored her petite toes, spritzed with glitter. And the soft little shudders of her body as she cried ripped out his heart.

“I won’t give you a chance to regret me, pet. I sure as hell refuse to wish I’d done something different while I had you with me.” He was already going to regret the last four years. “Lie back.”

She gasped softly, her gaze shooting up to his. She swallowed. Desire mingled with despair and wracked her face. “Thorpe . . . I can’t.”

He tensed. “Because of Kirkpatrick?”

Callie nodded.

“You’ve said you’re rescinding his collar. If you’re leaving here, you’re obviously leaving him, too.”

“I know.” More tears clouded her eyes.

If it wasn’t just about misguided loyalty to the Scot, what else was she hesitating about? The hurt from his desertion two Decembers ago? Christ, that had to be it. Remorse wracked him.

“I won’t walk away from you this time without giving you pleasure. I give you my word.”

Callie stared, breath held, the moment frozen. Thorpe watched her face as a thousand thoughts zipped through her head. And he saw the second she decided that if she was severing her bond with Kirkpatrick and fleeing, then she’d rather have him once than never at all.

With a sad smile, she climbed out of his lap and onto her bed, lying across it. Thorpe turned to watch her as she held out her arms to him, a silent siren call he had no idea how or if he could resist.

On the other hand, he had his answer about her parting gift to him. Tonight, she intended to give all of herself. Her body. Her heart. Her soul.

Her response both touched and infuriated him to the core. The girl was often so damn unpredictable. Right now, he’d have to be the same.

Standing, Thorpe shucked his suit coat. Then he doffed his cuff links, setting them on her nightstand. He draped his shirt over his coat at the head of the bed. Then he checked the pockets of his trousers. What he needed still rested inside. With a bracing breath, he turned to Callie.

“Robe off, pet. Spread your legs.”

Her fingers trembled as she worked the knot around her waist free. With a little lift and an arch of her graceful spine, she pulled it away from her body, gathering the silk in one hand, then letting it puddle on the floor. He would never get over how beautiful she was and the visceral reaction she elicited in him every damn time he came near her.

Callie slowly parted her thighs. His heart chugged. Technically, he should walk away and leave her untouched until she formally severed her relationship with Sean. Putting his hands on another Dom’s sub wasn’t ethical. The fact that he suspected Kirkpatrick of being a deceitful douche bag wasn’t relevant. Thorpe realized it was possible he’d convinced himself that these were extenuating circumstances because he wanted Callie so badly. But he couldn’t make himself care. This was likely his last chance to persuade her to stay. If he had to risk his reputation in the BDSM community to keep her safe from a man who might be trying to snuff her out or lock her in prison, so be it.

Her bare pussy splayed out in front of him, pink and swollen and tantalizing. Even if she remained at Dominion, this opportunity would probably never come again. If she wasn’t with Kirkpatrick, she’d be with someone else. Callie wasn’t cut out to spend her life alone, and he shouldn’t punish her because he’d resigned himself to solitude.

Thorpe refused to take from her now, but he would gladly give.

He lowered himself to the bed between her legs. Her stare never wavered from him, but he heard her indrawn breath. As he engulfed her hip with his hand, she shivered. Then, settling himself on his chest, Thorpe took her other hip in hand and dragged her closer, until her pussy was a breath away from his lips.

“Thorpe, you said . . .”

“You assumed.” He corrected. “You’re not dictating the terms, Callie.”

“I know.” She thrashed beneath him.

“Problem, pet?”

Callie bent her knees, writhed, lifted her hips restlessly. “You make me ache.”

Thorpe couldn’t help but smile. “You do the same to me. Relax.”

“Hurry.”

“Always topping from the bottom,” he chided. But that was part of her charm.

Before she could reply, he set his mouth over her pussy and began consuming as much of Callie as he could. He’d dreamed of her. Her scent had driven him to obsess about her flavor day after day, seemingly forever. But the moment she hit his tongue, it was like tasting a delicacy he constantly craved. Like Callie herself, her pussy was sweet and tart and soft . . . with just a hint of something he hadn’t encountered in any other woman. And doubted he ever would again.

Her soft gasp went straight to his cock, and he raised up on his elbows, his thumbs parting the swollen lips of her sex. He lashed her hardening clit with gentle, rhythmic strokes, concentrating on growing her need. Her skin turned a rosy pink. She grabbed at the sheets with restless fingers. Her hips moved in time with his mouth. Her gasps became moans.

Lifting his lips for a moment, he nipped at her thigh and tended to her engorged bundle of nerves with sure fingers. “Does that feel good, pet?”

“Yes.” Callie thrashed under him. “Please . . . More.”

Thorpe smiled, eager to indulge her. He bent to her again, raking his tongue through her sultry sex. This time, he didn’t bother with a slow courting of her flesh. He seized her, sucking at her clit, drawing her deeper into pleasure, wordlessly demanding her orgasm. If he had one chance to taste her, he planned to shove her to the brink, take her power, then drive it back into her so she never forgot this night.

Her moans shortened, went up an octave. Under his hands, her thighs clenched. The rest of her body tensed. Her fingers found their way into his hair and pulled. A shudder slammed down his spine. She’d be a hellcat to fuck, an active, clawing, screaming lover he’d want again and again.

And if he didn’t stop thinking that, he would rip his pants off and find out for himself. Staying on course and making her feel treasured was more important than getting off.

Thorpe slid two fingers inside her. Oh, fuck, was she ever tight. He gave grudging credit to Kirkpatrick for lasting as long as he had. Being inside Callie’s little sweltering cunt was one of his favorite fantasies. When he was alone and tired of all the women who joined Dominion because they’d read some fucking book and had no clue what submission actually meant, he escaped to his shower, stroked himself, and imagined her.

Probing Callie gently, it didn’t take him long to learn where she was sensitive. Her bucking body and imploring whimpers gave her away.

He went after her in earnest, eating at her like a juicy piece of fruit, fucking her thoroughly with his fingers and tongue—and wishing to hell he could mount and claim her.

“Thorpe!”

She was begging for his permission. It was in her voice. In her swollen pussy. In her clutching fingers. In her heels as they dug into the mattress beside him.

Fuck, yes. He was going to make Callie splinter into little pieces before him. And he was going to enjoy the hell out of seeing her shatter—this time for him and him alone.

Keeping his fingers tucked tightly inside her, Thorpe worked his way up her body, kissing and nipping her stomach, the underside of her breasts, her nipples, her neck, then her lush bow of a mouth. God, he hadn’t kissed her in forever and he’d missed it so damn much. He wanted to crawl inside her, take her, thrill her, please her.

He wanted to own her.

Imfuckingpossible.

They had here and now. Tomorrow . . . he had no idea what would happen. He was used to controlling most everything around him. But he couldn’t control Callie or the future. That fact chafed him like nothing else.

Thorpe sank deeper into her mouth, prowling past her plump lips to curl his tongue around hers and capture every bit of her sweet response he could. He moaned, fitting his body against hers and slowly withdrawing his fingers from her pussy, letting them hover just over her clit, where she needed him to touch her most.

“Hands over your head, pet.”

Callie complied without pausing for even a heartbeat. “Please. I need you . . .”

She did, but not in the way she begged for. She needed the limits he’d once given her. He’d stopped because she’d turned to Kirkpatrick. And he hadn’t fought for her. Now she sought to leave him altogether.

You’re only getting what you deserve.

Shoving aside the mocking voice, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the cuffs he’d secreted there. Before she knew what he was about, he flicked one around her left wrist, poised above her head. The other cuff he tethered to the metal frame of her platform bed with a jangle.

“What are you doing?” she asked, tugging and frowning when the cuffs clattered.

“Look at me.” He demanded, setting his fingers back over her clit. “And don’t look away. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Her voice trembled. Her body shook. Her eyes pleaded.

With his cock as hard as iron, Thorpe hissed in a breath and delved deep into her eyes. “Take the pleasure I’m giving you as a vow, pet. If you leave me, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth. There won’t be a place you hide where I can’t find you. I will never stop looking. I will never give up. I will never let you go when I can save you.”