Page 83 of Dirty Cowboy

"What’s the rope for?" I ask, standing in front of her, watching her from above.

Her gaze drifts—first to my chest, then lower, slow and deliberate before it lifts to mine and locks on.

"What are you doing, Emma?" My voice drops into something rough, dangerous.

She twists the rope between her fingers, her lips curving into a wicked smile. "Would you be willing to tie me up?"

Heat rushes through me, pooling low, and coiling tight in my balls. I reach for the rope, my pulse hammering. She’s giving me raw and unfiltered trust, and it both exhilarates and terrifies me.

"Are you sure?" I murmur.

She nods. "Very sure."

My grip tightens around the coarse fibers. "Alright."

Everything shifts. The air crackles, thick with anticipation.

"Put your hands together."

She rests her wrists against each other, holding them out, and I loop the rope around them, my fingers grazing over her soft skin. The binding presses into her, but I keep the tension light.

"Is that comfortable?"

“Yes," she breathes, her chest rising and falling, each inhale pressing against the loose fabric of her shirt.

My fingers drift down, tracing the hollow of her throat, feeling the quick, pulsing beat of her heart beneath my touch.

"Good," I whisper.

I lift her arms, trapping her head between them. Her lips part with expectation. I press my mouth to hers, slow and deep, tasting her surrender. She softens, melting against me as I let my hands roam. Slipping beneath her shirt, I skim the delicate swell of her breast. She arches into my touch, and a breathy moan escapes her lips.

"Is this okay?" My voice is barely there.

She lowers her arms. "More than okay." Despite the rope binding her wrists, her fingers fumble with my belt. I grab her hands, stilling them.

"No, darling. This is all about you."

I press a line of kisses down her belly, lowering to my knees and parting her legs. Her sheer panties leave little to the imagination. The heat of her body radiates against my lips as I drag my nose over the fabric, inhaling her scent.

"You smell ready," I murmur against her thigh, scraping my teeth over the cotton, savoring her shudder.

Sweeping her panties aside, I press my tongue to her slick heat, tasting her and teasing her. Her legs tremble as I slide the fabric down, my fingers skimming over the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thighs. She gasps, her tied wrists resting on top of my head, urging me on, but I don’t need the encouragement.

I dip lower, lapping at her folds, drawing out another shaky moan. Then I pull back, watching her. She blinks down at me, lips parted, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. I slide two fingers into my mouth, coating them, before pressing them gently inside her. Her body clenches, and a strangled yelp slips free.

I still and slowly lift my gaze.

"Emma?"

Her eyes flutter open, hazy, unfocused.

"Yes?"

I swallow hard, my fingers still inside her.

"Are you a virgin?"

Heat radiates from where his fingers still rest inside me, spreading up my body like wildfire. My breath is shallow, my pulse erratic, and every nerve is lit up and buzzing. But Eric isn't moving. Instead, he's staring at me like he just committed a crime.

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