Page 20 of The Lasso Master

His fingertips grazed her sensitive skin, tracing intricate, invisible patterns down her abdomen like a painter delicately crafting his masterpiece. Her breath hitched and caught in her throat as his hot breath fanned across her exposed thighs, the warmth sending shivers along her skin. His tongue teasingly glided over her slick folds, leaving a trail of liquid fire in its wake. He pressed his lips against her quivering inner thighs, leaving a trail of gentle, feather-light kisses that caused her to shudder in anticipation, like tremors before a seismic event. As he continued to explore her body, her moans grew more desperate,a symphony of longing and desire, begging for the sweet release she craved.

Harper was bound in Reed’s rope—lush silk wound tight against her skin, each intricate pattern hugging her curves with possessive elegance. The knots pressed into her flesh, promising they'd leave their mark, even after they were gone. Every movement made them pull tighter, a perfect reminder that she was held, claimed, his.

Her body writhed instinctively, hips grinding helplessly against the air, seeking contact. Her nipples throbbed, swollen and aching, exposed to the cool air and the heat of his gaze. Each time he edged her close to release and then denied her, the tension inside her ratcheted higher. Her muscles quivered. Her breath came in ragged bursts. Her thighs trembled, wide and open, slick with need.

His mouth, hot and relentless, tormented her with slow licks and deep sucks that made her cry out. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t brace for where his mouth or hands would go next—only feel the raw, dragging tease of his tongue, the way he hummed dark approval against her clit when she squirmed. She heard him—those low, guttural sounds he made when he tasted her, and the quiet, filthy praise he murmured into her skin as she begged.

The pressure was unbearable. Each moment stretched thin with hunger, every nerve in her body lit with arousal. She wasn’t just desperate—she was unraveling. Her whole being longed for him to finally possess her, to fill the unbearable void within with the only thing that could silence the desperate longing in her veins: him.

Her orgasm hit like a wave breaking against rock—sudden, violent, undeniable. She screamed his name, shattering around him as he held her there, bound and undone, exactly where she belonged.

He didn’t move right away. Instead, he allowed her to float back down to reality, kissing her temple as she trembled, her body still shivering from the high. Then, with slow, reverent care, he began to untie the ropes.

Each pull loosened the silk, easing away the tension, but not the heat. His fingers traced the red impressions left behind, and then his lips followed. He kissed the faint rope marks on her wrists, her thighs, the soft valleys beneath her breasts. His tongue dragged slowly over each indentation, soothing and igniting her all over again.

She moaned softly, too spent to fight it, too full of him to care. Every caress felt like a vow—his way of telling her she wasn’t just something to bind and fuck. She was something to honor.

“You wear my rope as if it were made for you,” he murmured, mouth against her skin. “And you take every damn knot like it’s a gift.”

Harper’s eyes fluttered open, the blindfold gone now, her vision hazy with afterglow. “Maybe it is.”

His smile was wicked and soft. “Then I’ll keep giving it.”

Trembling in the aftermath, Harper let herself sink into the quiet buzz beneath her skin. Reed didn’t give her time to fully recover. He bent down and scooped her up into his arms with ease, his body radiating warmth and strength. She gasped, her breath catching as the motion jostled the still-tingling ache between her legs. His bare chest pressed against hers, hard and hot, his scent a mix of salt, sweat, and sex.

He carried her through the hall with a quiet command, each step steady, sure. She could feel the brush of his skin against her own, the lingering throb of rope marks making every movement feel like a brand.

As they reached the door at the end of the hall, he nudged it open with his foot.

“No other woman has ever slept in this bed,” he said, his voice deep and low, almost reverent.

Harper blinked up at him, stunned—not by the words, but by the way they made her feel.

“You’re not like anyone else,” he added, eyes locked on hers as he carried her across the threshold, laying her on the bed and divesting himself of the rest of his clothes.

And just like that, her last wall cracked, splintered by heat and something dangerously close to hope.

As he positioned himself between her legs, she felt the head of his cock teasing her entrance, making her crave him even more. He slowly pushed forward, and she could feel the stretch as he penetrated her. Her breath hitched as he filled her completely, their bodies flush against each other.

Darkness cloaked the bedroom, with only moonlight filtering through the windows. It heightened every touch, every sound. Each time he pulled back, almost leaving her before returning with a powerful thrust, she knew exactly where he was by the noises he made: the groans and heavy breaths. She matched his movements with her hips, guiding him deeper, their bodies slick with sweat.

His hand slipped between their intertwined forms to find and gently stroke her clit in rhythm with his thrusts. The building pleasure made it difficult to hold anything back: the moans escaping her lips and the quivering anticipation in her body.

Her orgasm built like an approaching storm, lightning crackling through her veins as she clenched around him. As she reached the tipping point, she cried out his name with a wild abandon – "Reed!" Her muscles spasmed around him, feeling waves of pleasure rippling through every inch of her body.

In response to her release, Reed's pace quickened; each thrust became more urgent and powerful. Gasping for air between their passionate kisses, they lost themselves in eachother's embrace until they both shared in the blissful aftershocks of their love-making.

Outside, someone watched the house from the woods. A silhouette cloaked in black stood just beyond the tree line, motionless, barely more than a shadow among shadows. Their breath fogged briefly in the cold air, disappearing almost as fast as it appeared. Eyes sharp behind dark lenses, they observed the bedroom window—silent, patient, and very much alone.

10

REED

The bed was cold.

Not just empty—cold. Like it had been that way for hours. Reed’s hand drifted over the sheet she’d curled into the night before, seeking the heat of her body and finding nothing but linen and absence. The soft indent where she’d lain was already fading.

His chest tightened. Not with alarm; not yet. But something primal clawed its way up through his ribs—something old and jagged, a relic forged in the crucible of past betrayals. The same edge that had carved caution into every decision since his first op had gone wrong. It wasn't panic. It was readiness. It was instinct sharpening his breath, setting his nerves on alert. A tight knot formed in his gut, and he didn’t need thunder to sense the trouble ahead.

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