Don't Promise (Don't 3)

I shook my head wildly. “Please.”

“You don’t get to make requests.”

My eyes widened. He cut through me with his piercing stare.

“But I was just—”

He stepped from the wall. “I want your clothes off. I want you in my bed.”

I nodded. He hadn’t released me enough for me to move.

“And whe

n I walk in that room, I want to see your hands on that sweet pussy of yours.”

Oh God. I opened my mouth to protest, but I had pushed too many of his buttons. He was firing on every level of testosterone and it was dripping from his body to mine. He moved his hands off the wall and I turned for his bed. I peeled the clothes from my body and slid in between the sheets.

I didn’t know how long he was going to make me wait. I didn’t know what he was doing in the hall. I had never let a man watch me touch myself before. I was so incredibly turned on, I was afraid I would combust before he walked in. Every nerve ending was like a live wire.

My hands slowly explored the roundness of my breasts and the softness of my belly before smoothing over the waxed skin between my legs. I let one finger and then another slide between my folds. I sighed with satisfaction as a little bit of the pressure was relieved with my own touch. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted Hawk.

The more I thought about what he was going to do, the more the cream flowed between my legs. The harder I massaged my clit. My hips bucked under me. One hand flailed out to grab a handful of his designer sheets as I dipped inside my walls.

“Oh, God,” I whispered heavily.

And then my eyes opened and Hawk was standing over top of me.

“Fuck I could come on you watching you do that.”

“Will you?” I asked. My fingers moved deeper inside me.

He was naked. His glorious body loomed over me with the promise of a primal fucking. I shivered and my clit throbbed.

And then I looked down at his hands. He was holding my scarf.

“You’re close, baby.”

I nodded. “So close.” I couldn’t stop rubbing. The friction felt too good. My nipples perked and hardened.

“Not without me.” He yanked my hands away and I whimpered. I ached so badly it hurt. I wanted the release. I needed the orgasm.

“Hawk,” I pleaded.

“See, I think you have me confused with a nice guy.” He rolled me on my stomach, and pinned my wrists together behind my back. “You think I’m some redeemable good man under this hard body, don’t you?”

I nodded, my face smothered by the pillow. “You are.”

Within seconds he wrapped my plaid cashmere scarf around my wrists and bound them with a final knot. He tugged it tightly. “That will hold.”

I felt my core ripple with excitement.

He climbed behind me. I felt his hard shaft drag over my ass. He slapped me once and I bucked in the air.

“Shit,” I whimpered.

My clit throbbed. More. I wanted more. My orgasm was hovering, begging to break free. I didn’t know what he had planned with my hands bound. I was at his mercy. My body was his to pleasure.

His fingers dug into my hips as he pulled them in the air and I adjusted to my knees supporting me while my shoulders remained on the bed. My hands stretched down my back, but I couldn’t hold onto anything. Grip anything for support.