Unbreak My Hart (The Notorious Harts 4)

‘Being my sex slave.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever been tied up before?’

His laugh is deep and throaty. ‘No.’

‘Well, there’s a first time for everything.’

His movement surprises me, his body bucking and flipping in one motion, toppling me backwards on the bed and, at the same time, reaching up and trapping my wrists. Arousal floods me but you know this about me already—I like being dominated in bed. But with Barrett I want to return that, I want to take from him, to drive him wild, to show him I’m still in control even when my body seems determined to give that up.

‘But this could be much more fun.’

I bite down on my lip. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I murmur. But this is important to me. It’s like I need to prove to myself that I’m still here, that my brain works even when my body is under the most intensely pleasurable assault I’ve ever known. ‘But first let me do this.’

He stares at me, his eyes shifting over my face. ‘Let you do this, huh?’

I nod slowly, his close proximity and the way his eyes are boring into me making something twist low in my gut.

He shifts then, moving to his back, dutifully lifting his arms above his head. Excitement begins to pound against me. Relief too. I weave the belt in and out of my bedframe, then do a figure of eight around his wrists, buckling it tight—not so tight as to hurt him but making any kind of escape impossible.

‘There,’ I murmur, sitting back a little to admire my handiwork. ‘Now you’re my prisoner.’

‘It would appear that way.’

‘Hmm. And what should I do with you?’ I take great pleasure in eyeing his body, raking my gaze over him slowly, studying the ridges of his abdomen, the firmness of his thighs, the shape of his calves and ankles before letting my eyes devour his hard cock.

‘Avery.’ My name is a hiss from his lips.

I move closer, crouching between his legs, my eyes on his. ‘Yes, Barrett?’

He drops back against the bed, pulls on his arms once as if out of habit, and then surrenders, right as I drop my mouth and take him deep inside me in one swoop, his cock against the back of my throat, so I feel him convulse and taste a hint of him there.

He groans, deep and low, moves his legs, but I keep going, taking him deep then letting him out, deep again, his strength only fanning the flames of my desire, his complete surrender an insanely powerful aphrodisiac.

Pleasure, pride and power burst through me.

‘Avery...’ My name comes from deep within him. I flick my gaze up the length of his body to find him watching me, his cheeks stained dark purple, his eyes fevered. ‘You should stop.’

I grin against his cock, but don’t pull away. I run my tongue down his length then over his tip, his sharply indrawn breath taunting me, thrilling me.

‘I don’t want to.’

He curses, drops back and stares at the ceiling. I feel his dick spasming, the promise of his release tangible. I pull away, watching him, knowing that if I don’t stop this will be over—for a time—but not sure I care in that moment. I love this.

He swears again, pulls at his arms, then glares at me with a look that almost makes me s

orry for him—because while I like to surrender control in a limited set of circumstances, Barrett clearly doesn’t. I can see his desire to take over, to grab my hips and drag me onto his dick, or to push at my head until it’s over him again. He would do neither because he’s not an asshole, but that need is there—a need to possess me, a need that I, right now, control.

‘I could get used to having you here like this.’ I reach for the line of condoms, ripping the top off the first one and hovering it over his cock. As the rubber touches him his body flinches, his hips bucking. I take my time rolling it in place, letting my fingers taunt him, their touch light and laced with promises, then I lift up on my haunches, holding myself above him so he jerks his hips, trying to bring himself towards me, driven by instincts with which I’m familiar.

‘Patience, Earl of Ashwyn.’

He glares at me, no hint of a smile on his lips, a look of frustration in his eyes. I applaud him for going along with this. I know I need to put him out of his misery—and me out of mine. I drop forward, kissing his lips slowly. When he tries to deepen the kiss I pull away, peppering kisses down his body instead, back to his sheathed dick, rolling my tongue around the base of it then flicking his inner thighs.

‘Not sure patience is my strong suit.’

He has been patient, though, all things considered. I lift over him once more and this time I give us both what we want—and need. My name, when he says it now, is not a curse and it’s not a hiss; it’s a caress and it breathes its way through my entire body, threatening—if I am not very careful—to alter my DNA on a fundamental level. I move faster, the fever to stop that driving through me, just as pleasure is a blade pressed to my side. Every time he tries to pull his hands free I smile to myself because there is power in pleasure and, right now, that power is all mine.