“I’m not a child,” he grumbles. “Let me up so I can eat it my damn self.”

“I may swear you’re the devil sometimes, but you’re certainly not damned,” I muse, ignoring his request. I don’t get many opportunities to harass this man, so I’m taking this moment and running with it. “Now, shut up and let me feed you.” Lifting the fork, I hold it high in the air.

If looks could kill...

“You think you’re the one in control here, pussycat?” he asks, his voice pitching low and dangerous. It’s the same tone he uses in bed, which gets my wheels turning in a whole new direction. “Think again.”

Sighing, I rest the fork back on the plate. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with me being in control last night,” I remind him. “In fact, if memory serves, weren’t you the one who suggested the restraints in the first place?”

“Role reversal is common practice in normal, healthy relationships. Just remember who put you in the driver’s seat, Josephine. I still have control, even when it seems like I don’t.”

I regard him with a certain level of amusement. In the short time we’ve spent actually getting to know one another, he’s shown me that he’s capable of more than just a quick roll in the sack. He can be funny, he knows how to laugh, and beyond all that macho bullshit he hides behind, I can tell he’s a pretty incredible guy when he chooses to be.

“Control, control, control. Blah, blah, blah.” Lifting the fork again, I grin, dialing the happiness up another notch. “Now, open wide. Here comes the airplane!”

Rebel’s murderous thoughts reflect back at me through those black-as-night eyes. That look used to scare me, but to hell with it. I know no matter how rough and domineering he can be Rebel will never hurt me.

Predictably, Rebel’s mouth fuses shut. I hold the pancake above his lips, waiting with what I know is a humongous grin on my face. “Awe, someone’s being stubborn this morning,” I coo.

Syrup drips onto his lips, and his eyes flash darker. He’s ticked off beyond measure, and I’m laughing my ass off when any sane person would be hightailing it for Canada about now.

“Open up. Big boys need their energy.” He doesn’t open, so I begin poking his mouth with the pancake. Poke, poke, poke. His lips glisten with sticky syrup, which sparks an idea.

Dropping the fork back onto the plate, I set the food aside. Flipping the blankets back, I pause at the sight of his hard cock standing at attention. It appears he’s not so mad after all.

Dressed in the shirt he wore the day before, I pull it over my head and cast it to the floor. Slinging my leg over his hips, I give him a sultry look as I settle myself over him, nestling his hard length between us. Placing my hands on either side of his head, I lean forward, flattening my breasts to his chest.

In this position, our faces are less than an inch apart, forcing us to make eye contact. “You’re being awfully quiet this morning. Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m plotting all the ways I’m going to punish you when I get free.”

“Who says I’ll free you?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

“I do, unless you enjoy being pissed on.”

Glancing down between us, I wonder... “Do you...?”

“It’s morning. Of course, I have to take a piss. Did you actually think the wood was because you were flashing me your tits? Now let me out of these fucking ties before I get mad.”

Hell, I thought he already was. It must be Rebel’s default setting.

Thoroughly rebuffed but refusing to allow it to get to me, I consider my options. “How about this? I’ll let you go if you promise to let me feed you when you come back,” I propose, wondering if he’ll accept the offer.

His black eyes switch back and forth between mine, assessing me in the way only a true businessman does. Once he’s weighed all his options, he gives one curt nod. “Deal.”

Maintaining eye contact, I lean down and begin tracing his lips with my tongue, collecting all the sticky syrup. Hopefully, the gesture will soften him a little towards me, make him lose some of that attitude he’s throwing off so we can have a little more fun before we check out.

“Mmm, you taste so sweet, Rebel. I wonder what other body parts taste good enough to eat.” His cock jumps between my legs, and I know I’ve got him.

“You have all morning to find out,” he says, his voice a husky drawl.

Diving in for a real kiss, I cover his mouth with mine as I reach up and pull at the knots on the ties. One at a time, they give way. Rebel drops one hand to my hip and slides the other into my hair to cup the back of my head. He holds me to him, his grip tight enough to bruise, and plunges his tongue into my mouth. Beneath me, his hips lift and retreat, rocking his erection against me. A moan escapes me when the tip of his cock grazes over my clit, my juices providing him an easy glide.

Breaking the kiss, I drop my mouth down to trail wet kisses over his neck, swirling my tongue over his throbbing pulse. Like his drink of choice, Rebel tastes as incredible as he smells—rich, dark, and sensual. Inhaling deeply, I fall powerless to his spell, feeling wild and wanton, eager for more.

“You like being in control?” Rebel rumbles in my ear. The hand he has on my hip slides down to cup my butt cheek, and squeezes.

“Yes,” I say breathlessly, rocking my hips faster, increasing the friction between my legs.

“Are you in control now?”

“Yes.”

In an instant, I’m on my back with Rebel above me, his body planted firmly between my spread legs. A rush of excitement tears through me. Instinctively, I hook my ankles around his back and reach up, intending to pull him down to me, but he stops me before I can touch him.

Gathering both of my hands in one of his, he pins them over my head, pressing them into the pillow so hard I feel the beat of my pulse in my fingertips.

“Wrong, pussycat. I’m in control here. You do what I say, when I say, how I say. Are we clear?”

“Not entirely,” I say huskily as I lift my hips and shamelessly rub my body against his. “Make love to me, Rebel. Fast, slow, I don’t care how, just do it.”

He shakes his head slowly. “You know that’s not my style, pussycat. If that’s what you’re looking for, then you need to leave this room now. Is that what you want? Do you want to leave?”

He’s a damn tease. And he’s full of shit. What Rebel doesn’t understand is that he makes love to me every time we have sex. Just because his style is typically rough and dirty doesn’t change that. It’s what’s behind the sex that counts. He cares about me, or else we wouldn’t be here now.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him fiercely. Holding his gaze, I bear my teeth in a vicious snarl. “You want to fuck? Then let’s fuck.” Whatever gets him to give up the pretenses and get inside me, I’m willing to say and do. Being in his arms, at his mercy, makes me desperate for more.

“Ah, pussycat,” he says, his tone chiding. “How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not the one calling the shots here?” Lowering his voice, he tells me, “If I want to fuck you, I will. So shut your dirty mouth and spread your legs.”

Impossible man. Opening my legs as wide as they’ll go, I expect him to give me what I want despite all his big man talk. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Rebel reaches beyond my field of vision. A moment later, his eyes return to mine and I glimpse a hint of laughter in them. Holding up the bottle of syrup that came with breakfast, he wiggles his brows playfully. “You like to play, pussycat? Let’s play.”

A mixture of horror and anticipation wash over me as I watch him upend the bottle and the thick stream of golden brown syrup comes rushing out.

It hits my chest with surprising weight and spreads out like branches on a tree, traveling in opposing directions between my breasts. Rivulets cascade over my collarbones and drip onto the sheets, pooling beneath my shoulders. More traces over my ribs and collects in my bellybutton. The syrup is warm and sticky against my skin, instantly uncomfortable. But Rebel quickly turns that sensation into something erotic and delicious.