What a question, Riot.
Yeah.
She kneels beside me in
her pretty short skirt and silky tank top. I can see down her cleavage, the curve of her tits, and I shift on the bed, uncomfortably hard. She glances down at my crotch and her brows lift.
“You’ll have to undress me again,” I say. “Can’t do it myself.”
“Or I can leave you here like this all night. You can’t come after me.”
Shit. “That wouldn’t be so interesting for you, though. And a waste of your money.”
“Oh, you can get a lot of bang for your buck with me,” she says in a false baritone, trying to imitate my voice, and it shouldn’t be funny, but it damn well is.
I crack up. “You bet.”
She laughs with me and I hear no fear in the sound. Maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation—me, tied to the bed and us laughing like loons.
Jesus Christ.
Then she shifts, and the whole world shifts with her as she grabs the hem of my T-shirt and lifts it up. She can’t take it off, since my hands are tied, but she pulls it over my head and leaves it bunched around my arms.
As if I needed more restraints.
Maybe she’s only hiding her fear. Maybe she needs more reassurance. Which makes sense. After all it’s why we’re here, in this hotel, in this bed. In these tight bonds.
Because she’s still struggling.
“Touch me,” I whisper, not much of a command, but I feel strangely naked like this, bound in front of her. Bared to my soul.
She leans forward, stroking my chest with her fingertips and the cool strands of her dark hair. I hiss in surprise at the sensation and her hands still on my stomach. The slight weight of them is warm and the heat shoots straight to my dick.
Naturally. It’s what happens when I’m around her. She’s so close, her eyes so dark, her lips so full. Her curves so sexy, from the fullness of her tits to the narrow waist and the flare of her hips.
“Undress me,” I say huskily, wondering if I might come just from her nearness. “Undress me, Pax.”
“Yes,” she mutters, lashes lowering, and fuck it’s hot.
Hotter when her hands skim down to my crotch, brushing over my dick. I do my best to keep my hips from bucking as she works the button open and then the next. No zippers today. Button by button she undoes my jeans, and draws a sharp breath when she sees the bulge underneath.
Yeah, babe. I want her to touch my dick, put her hand around it, but she only tugs down my jeans, pulling until my feet are clear of them. Takes off my socks.
Looks up at me, and licks her lips.
Jesus. I’m so fucking hard for her. Dying to undress her, rip her clothes off and sink into her.
And I have no clue what’s going through her mind. She’s looking, taking me in as if she’s never seen me before, head tilted to the side. Thoughtful. Curious.
Aroused. Her nipples are hard peaks, her chest rising and falling fast, her eyes glittering.
Not knowing what she’ll do next is driving me crazy. This is nothing like the usual process of things. Will she touch me again? Take off my briefs? Touch my cock? Dress me again? Get up and leave?
Fucking nuts, and it’s sending even more heat down my spine to pool in my gut. The elastic of my briefs is about to snap from the tent I’ve pitched.
I’m so strung up that when she finally does move, when she bends over me so that her tits rub on my chest, I arch like a bow against the headboard.
Then her mouth presses to mine and my body short-circuits. Oh fuck, yeah. I trace her lips with my tongue, part them, thrust inside. She tastes sweet and tart. Like oranges and peaches with an aftertaste of chocolate. I can’t help the moan rising in my chest. Fucking good. Need more.