Page 119 of The Most Perfect Wrong

Laughing softly, I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it aside. “Satisfied, Officer?”

Her eyes roam over me, and damn, the way she’s looking at me could make a saint sin, and I’m about two seconds away from begging her to skip the games.

“Almost,” she murmurs, stepping closer.

She grabs my wrist and snaps a cuff around it, her smirk never faltering as she leads me to the staircase, threading the cuffs through the railing. “Hands here,” she says as she guides my free hand behind my back, the cold metal snapping shut with finality.

I test the cuffs, tugging lightly. “This doesn’t seem very fair. How am I supposed to make you scream if I can’t touch you?”

She leans in, her lips brushing against my ear, her breath warm. “I guess we'll have to get creative, won’t we?” Her tone is playful, teasing, and it shoots straight to my dick.

“Jesus, babe,” I mutter.

“I’ll need you to stay quiet while I finish my investigation,” she says, tapping her finger against my chest as she circles back in front of me, inspecting me like I’m her prey. “Now, as for your punishment…” Her nail drags down my abdomen, sending chills racing through me.

My eyes follow her every movement. “I can’t wait.” A grin tugs at my lips. “You’re really taking this seriously, huh?”

Her fingers hook into the waistband of my jeans, tugging lightly as her eyes lock with mine. “You have no idea,” she purrs, as her hand brushes over my length, sending a jolt through me.

“Fuck,” I chuckle, shaking my head. She completely owns me right now. As much as I want to touch her, being handcuffed adds a level of submission I didn’t know I’d like. I’m so turned on I can barely think straight.

Her hands move to the button on my jeans, popping it open and dragging the zipper down—slow, deliberate, teasing. Then she pauses, her eyes darting up to meet mine. “Let’s see if you can really make me scream.”

She’s killing me.

“Oh, you’ll scream. But I’m going to need my hands.”

“I recall you being quite good at getting a woman off without touching her.”

“But I want to touch you, babe.”

She pauses, cocking a brow. “Yeah? What would you do if you could?”

I swallow hard, my gaze flicking to the zipper of her tiny dress, teasingly low but nowhere near low enough. “I’d start with your zipper. I’d pull it down so I can see your tits.”

Her fingers trace over the zipper. “Like this?” she whispers, dragging it down to her sternum, the material barely covering her nipples. My dick throbs in response.

“Yeah… Then I’d pull you close, so you’d feel how hard I am for you.”

She steps closer, pressing herself against my hard-on, as her hands glide up my chest. “Go on,” she says, her voice soft and breathy.

“Show me your tits, babe,” I say, my tone edged with desperation.

She grips the neckline of her dress, slowly pulling it open, flashing me her perfect boobs. Her nipples are hard and pink, practically begging to be touched.

“Jesus,” I groan, my head falling back against the railing before snapping my gaze back to her. “I’d grope your tits, pinch your nipples.”

She slips a hand into her dress, cupping one of her boobs, and rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Her lips part, and a soft moan escapes, making my cock pulse even harder. “And then?”

“Then I’d push your dress up,” I say, my voice rough and strained, “I’d run my fingers over your panties to tease you, feel how wet you are for me.”

Her eyes lock on mine, daring me to look away as her fingers drift down, hiking her dress up just enough to make me lose my damn mind. Her fingers brush over her white lacy underwear, and I can’t fucking breathe.

“Like this?” she whispers.

“Exactly like that,” I rasp. Holy shit. This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done. Heat courses through every vein in my body, and I feel carnal—like a wild animal trapped inside me—hungry, raging, desperate to break free.

Her jaw drops as she lets out a gasp.

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