Seducing the Enemy (Forbidden Confessions 4)

In fact, I look forward to it.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes…Sir.”

“That’s right. Now give me your foot.” I hold out my hand. In the other, I’ve already gathered the cuff.

Whitney stares at me. I sense her fear. And I smell her desire. She’s confused and she doesn’t understand her reaction.

I simply smile.

Slowly, she slides her free leg in my direction, then places her dainty instep in my palm.

Without any haste at all, I buckle her in and step back. And I stare at the banquet of female spread out before me. My mouth waters.

Since it’s wiser for me to keep my pants on—at least for now—I shuck my shoes, then crawl onto the bed, hovering over her. I study her delicate face.

I remember when I thought I’d be the luckiest bastard in the world if I could just call her mine. It’s been eight years, two continents, and too many meaningless fucks later. Goddamn it if I don’t still think that having her, even just for the week, will make me a lucky bastard.

Whitney looks nervous. “Are you leaving my hands free?”

“For now.” Unless she gives me a reason not to.

When she nods, it takes everything inside me not to give in to my urge to soothe and reassure her. Instead, I dip my head and take her mouth in a demanding kiss. Fuck if I don’t have the urge to stay at her soft, bee stung lips and feast. There’s something so delectable about them. The top bow tempts. The bottom pout lures. How can I not want her?

But there’s more—a lot more—I haven’t touched in what seems like forever.

“These breasts. Hmm…” The words slip out. I’m so busy staring at her swells and the dark nipples tipping them that I don’t even realize I’ve spoken.

“I’ve changed since I was sixteen.”

“For the better,” I murmur as I open my lips to her neck and taste her skin.

She tips her head back and offers me her vulnerable throat. Absently wondering if she understands the unconscious trust she’s giving me, I skim my mouth down her flesh, kissing the pounding pulse point at her neck, tonguing the swells of her breasts, and nipping my way to her hard, tempting crests.

I remember her being sensitive…but it was a long time ago, and I was the first man to touch them. Thankfully, when I catch one of her nipples between my thumb and finger and pull, her body tightens. Her breathing stutters.

Fuck, she’s still incredibly responsive to my touch. I shouldn’t let that arouse me more, but I gorge on the visual feast of her arching and sucking in a sharp breath as sensation hits her. Need flares through me unchecked.

Again, I pluck at her tender peak, gratified by the way she grips the bedding and stares up at me like she wants to control her body…and she can’t.

“Do you want me to suck your nipples?”

I pinch her hard tip again, rolling and thumbing it without mercy. She swallows and presses her lips together. “Do what you want. You’re going to anyway.”

“Answer me.” When she doesn’t, I plant my knees on either side of her hips and take both nipples in my grip, manipulating them simultaneously. “I can do this all night, Whitney, until you’re willing to beg me for relief. If you force me to, how much mercy do you think I’ll have?”

She tosses her head back and closes her eyes as if she’s trying to shove me out of her reality. But we both know I won’t let her.

“None,” she pants.

“That’s right. Last time I’ll ask. Do you want me to suck them?”

“No matter what I say, you’ll undo me.”

The crying catch in her voice flips more than my libido. “Yes, so you’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

“I hate you.”

That hurts, but I hate myself far more for not being able to fall out of love with her.

Whitney is still pushing, testing. What is she after?

“So you’ve said.” I tug and caress the tips. They harden more as she flushes and writhes in unconscious offering. “But that doesn’t change anything, so why not take what you want from me?”

I release her and sit back on my heels, watching and waiting.

Seconds later, her eyes flash open. They’re even more dilated than before. A little whimper escapes from her throat. Jesus, how long before I get inside her? How long before I feel—at least for a few precious minutes—like she’s mine?

“Suck my nipples,” she finally gasps. “Hard.”

“Please?” I taunt.

She nods. “Please.”

“Sir?”

She sighs, then jolts when I pinch the sensitive tips again, this time with more bite. “Please suck my nipples hard, Sir.”

“I know that wasn’t easy for you, so I’m inclined to comply. This time. But next time you want something, the begging will have to be much sweeter.”

“You’re a bast—Oh!”

Whitney stops berating me when I suck one of her sweet berry nipples past my lips and take it deep. I slide my tongue over the crest, swirl around it, nip gently, then draw it to the roof of my mouth and pull without mercy.