66

66
Imogen’s pov
I leaned back into the leather seat, my fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of my dress.
He  hadn’t spoken a word since the incident outside the  restaurant. Not one. 
His hand rested on his thigh, the other rested  lazily across the seat between us, but the silence wrapped tighter than chains.
I was used to silent drive home but not from the one person I had craved the most and the silence was killing me.
I stole a glance at him, his jaw was sharp, clenched, the faint scar at his lip deepening as his mouth pressed flat. Something brewed beneath the surface… something he wasn’t saying and I knew I had to get it out of him.
Finally, I cleared my throat. “What’s with you?”
His eyes shifted, catching mine, and for a second I wished I hadn’t asked because the look there was harsh and rough with danger and desire, wound so tight it made my pulse to elevate.
He said nothing.
I scoffed, trying to steady myself. “So we’re doing the silent treatment now?”
Nothing. 
Just that stare.
Now I was fucking tensed and needed to know— I had to know why he was keeping me shut.
I turned fully toward him, my voice sharper. “Silas, I asked you a question.”
That was when he leaned forward, his voice low but sharp and commanding. “Stop the car.”
The driver stiffened. “Boss—”
“Out.” Just one word, but heavy enough to end the conversation.
The car slowed down  as the tires moved slowly against gravel before coming to a stop.
“You can go home,” he ordered.
Without hesitation, the driver climbed out, shutting the door behind him. Suddenly, it was just us— the dark, the hum of the engine, the silence so thick it pressed into my skin.
My stomach twisted. “Why did you—”
He shifted, turning fully toward me now, and I felt the weight of his presence fill the car like smoke. His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw, then gripping tighter until my head tilted toward him.
 His eyes burned into mine.
“You don’t laugh at any other man but me.” His words weren’t loud, but they were sharp, deliberate, every word was  branded onto my skin. “Not ever.”
Heat flushed through me, equal parts  of both fury and something else I hated admitting.
 I licked my lips, my voice firm despite the pounding in my chest. “I’m my own woman, Silas. I’ll laugh at whoever I damn well please.”
For a moment, silence stretched, then  his mouth curved into that dangerous half smile that made my stomach knot.
“Brave,” he murmured, his grip sliding from my jaw down to my throat, not choking, but claiming and holding “But wrong.”
His gaze softened as his eyes fell on my lips— he drew closer as his tongue tasted my lower lip, then he took a deep breath.
“I want you so bad it’s messing with my head,” he spat out but his voice was softer and calm. “But seeing you with another man? Hearing you laugh for him?” His jaw locked hard enough that I thought it might shatter. “That makes me want to break things.”
Something inside me cracked.
He was jealous.
 Blond was fucking jealous.
Perry had never cared who I smiled at, who I spoke to, even when his fists reminded me of who I belonged to. He never burned with jealousy, never shook with need. His rage came from power,  and from cruelty.
But this— this was different. Blond’s  jealousy wasn’t indifference wrapped in anger, no— it  was… him caring too much. So much it nearly destroyed him.
My lips parted, my breath trembling. “Silas…”
“Shh, princess.” His tone was velvet and vice, silencing me as his head moved closer to mine. 
He took his time looking at me before going in with the kiss. It was not a gentle kiss— no, this kiss was hungry and rough. It claimed me and stole every bit of air from around me.
I didn’t mind if I was short of air or not— I just wanted this feeling to not end.
His tongue went deeper than I had anticipated that I melted into it, into him, desperate to touch, to hold, to close the unbearable gap between us.
But when my hand rose to his chest, he caught my wrist with a single, firm grip, holding me back.
Then he broke the kiss.
“No, princess,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and dark, vibrating with restraint. “You don’t get to touch me. Not tonight. Not when you still need to be disciplined.”
He loosened his tie and bound my hands together before he went back to kissing me with more want.
A shiver tore through me, sharp and unexpected. His control, his authority— it wasn’t cruel like Perry’s. It was… intoxicating. Dangerous, yes, but wrapped around something that made my heart ache with want.
Then his hand slipped under my  dress, fingers tracing my thigh, slow, and deliberate. I let out a soft gasp as he parted my thighs.
 He pushed my dress up, as he knet between my legs. His lips grazing my  inner thigh— the  moan this time was louder than the previous one.
“Hey,” I whispered, but my hands fisted his hair, pulling him closer as my hips arched, begging for more. 
He kissed higher, as his fingers hooked my  panties, pulling them aside. 
He licked me slowly. His  tongue teasing my clit— my  moans got louder and  raw. I was wet, and fucking dripping.
 He let out groan, but kept on sucking harder, claiming my with every inch of his tongue.
“You feel that?” He growled, pulling back as his  thumb was circling my  clit, watching me twist, my head tipped back.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice raw as he dove back in.
His tongue was fucking me— my  thighs trembling around him. 
I knew he wanted to break me, make me beg, and I would gladly do that just for him to not stop with this pleasure, but I wasn’t going to just let him make me lose control that easily so I had to put up a fight.
“I’m mine,” I commanded, voice shaky but fierce. 
I tried to unbound my hand but it was a wasted effort
He ignored and increased the pace at which he ate me out then pushed his fingers into my pussy and fucked me.
“Oh…. My…. God,” I moaned.
His groan got louder as I tossed my head backwards, screaming at the top of my voice.
“Silas…” 
 “You’re my fucking addiction,” he blurted out, his voice sending vibrations through my pussy that drove me over the edge.
“Fuck, I am gonna cum…”
But just when I was there— right there— he stopped.
I cried out, strangled, broken and stranded. “Please—”
He lifted his head slowly, deliberately, his lips stained with my juice, his eyes dark as sin. He wiped his mouth with his thumb and looked at me like I was already ruined.
“You don’t get to cum,” he said, voice sharp, dangerous. “Not yet. Not until you learn that your body, your laughter, every single part of you belongs to me.”