Stripped Down

Holding on isn’t the same as letting him tie me up. I can let go at any time, making my new position seem less scary and far, far sexier. I have to choose to play his game, and we both know it. I tighten my fingers on the polished wood, stretching, reaching for the pleasure he offers. I’m stripped down and ready for him.

“Touch me,” I demand, lifting myself into his touch.

His hands cup my breasts. “Like this?”

He runs his fingers over my skin, thumbing my nipples. Teasing them into greedy nubs. I want more. My hands may be locked in place, but my legs are free. I wrap my legs around his hips, my heels digging into his spectacular butt. He’s hard and unyielding, his dick pressing into me as he holds me down on his bed. As if I want to get away—when I don’t. I only want to get closer. All the way closer.

Angel thinks he knows me, but he’s only seen the surface—and I’ve learned to cheat in the years since he last saw me. Let him think he’s in charge, but he’s not. Letting go of the headboard with one hand, I lick my palm, dragging my tongue over my skin to make it wet. His eyes darken, but it’s too late. I wrap my hand around his dick and squeeze. Not too gentle, because a man like Angel can and will take it rough. Rough and dirty.

He’s big, almost too big to close my fingers around but I’m damned sure going to try. His dick is a hot, silky length of steel and I know exactly what I’m doing next.

I tighten my grip, sliding my fingers up, up, up. His breath catches, and right now he’s mine. “You still want to wait, cowboy?”

ANGEL

Rose disobeys me. She takes her hands off the headboard, palms my dick, and I almost shoot off the bed. Naturally, my dick would be happy to go wherever she led, but she doesn’t get to leash me. Not that easily. It doesn’t matter that part of me—probably the part that’s sported an erection for her since she walked back into Lonesome and my life—aches for her. Or that I want to freeze the moment forever and live it over and over. The heat of her hand surrounds me, stroking firmly, roughly upward. The palm of her other hand cups my balls. Jesus. She’s broken all the rules.

“Rose.” I growl her name, reaching for her hands.

“Nuh-uh.” She fucking bites my lip, and the unexpected sting distracts me, and then I’m lost in the sensation of her hands moving up and then down, her clasp an erotic pressure when she reaches the head of my dick. She’s gonna make me blow, make me come, and it feels so good. Down. Up. My body jerks in her hold, and I about fly out of my skin when her fingers dance down my dick in an unexpectedly gentle skim.

She makes me off-balance.

Her hand closes over my dick head again and then pushes down the hard shaft in one long, luxurious stroke. Fuck if I don’t follow along, a dog on a leash, wanting more. The soft, slick sound filling my bedroom is an erotic precursor of what’s gonna happen real soon, a tease of the in-and-out to come. My dick’s going inside her, and I’m gonna ride her hard until she comes. But right now… fuck… she rings me with the fingers of her left hand, her index and thumb forming a wicked circle that squeezes pleasurably while her other hand makes another return trip down me. She’s making me come.

Fuck these games she plays. I don’t play to lose—I play to win.

I flip her over and yank her panties off.

Pinning her hands over her head to the headboard with one hand, I knee her thighs apart.

“You wait,” I whisper roughly. “You come when I say.”

I can’t tell if the muffled sound she makes is agreement or a fuck-off, but then she moves her legs wider. She’s trying to take control again. I press my fingers against her core.

The sweet, creamy scent of her arousal fills the small space left between us, and a primitive satisfaction fills me. This is my Rose, spread out in my bed. In my house. I’m gonna show her just how well I can take care of her now that I have her exactly where I want her.

In my arms. In my bed.

Rose Jordan, waiting for me. She smells like goddamned heaven and we need to get just one thing clear.

“Don’t let go,” I tell her. “Or I’ll stop.”

I take my hands away, pull her over me, and lick her sweet, sweet pussy.

ROSE

Angel eats my pussy.

His orders make me mad, but he also makes me wet. One of us has to compromise, and right now I’m almost willing to do it. I wiggle upward until I can watch his dark head at work. I can’t see his tongue, but God, I feel every inch of him. Seconds ago, I was ready to skip to the main course in my Angel buffet, but now I could be convinced to slow down and savor. Angel is both driven and determined—and he’s hell-bent on making me come. That’s not a bad fate.