Page 76 of Property of Legend

He flips us.He’s not finished.

“Do I need to untie you?”Legend asks, holding his massive cock up, inviting me for a ride.

“No, I can ride a horse with my hands behind my back.I think I can handle a big, bad biker.”

Lifting my leg, I straddle him, sit down real slow.Watch his face as I lower myself on his dick.Rocking back and forth, I feel the pressure mounting again.

Things slow down.Legend reaches under my shirt.We can’t get it off with my hands tied behind my back, but he undoes my bra.Then he’s rubbing his thumbs over my nipples.

Catching my breath, I enjoy the view.Legend laid out beneath me.Dangerously gorgeous.

All mine.

I ride him like the champion horsewoman that I am.Born in the saddle, I trained years for this, after all.

And when he comes with a strangled groan, I realize, I’m riding bare back, raw doggin’ him.

Stupid, but I know deep in my soul.I’m not leaving this man.

He can tie me up.

He can tear me down.

But I’m already his.

Body.Mind.Soul.

Property of Legend.

I feel the heat of his chest blanketing my back, his weight anchoring me to the mattress like he can’t let go yet.Part of me doesn’t want him to.

His rough hands are gentler now, working the knot at my wrists.His fingers graze the sore skin where the rope rubbed me raw, and he mutters something low under his breath.

“I tied it too tight,” he says, like he’s angry at himself for forgetting I’m not made of steel like him.

“You didn’t break me,” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls away enough to lift me into his arms again.No theatrics this time, just quiet care.

Legend carries me through a narrow side door I didn’t even notice before, into a small tiled room with a rusted clawfoot tub and a busted mirror cracked down the middle.Clothes are all over the floor.A half-used bar of soap sits beside a black bottle of bourbon.It’s not romantic.It’s real.

He sets me down on the edge of the tub, turns on the tap, and waits for the water to run hot.

“I can wash myself,” I say, not even convincing myself.

“Not tonight,” he growls.“You took everything I gave you.Let me give this too.”

He drops to his knees in front of me, dips a rag in the steaming water, and begins wiping me down, my wrists first, then the back of my neck, then lower.

His touch is reverent now.Quiet.Like penance.

“I was mad,” he says.“At you.At myself.At the whole damn world.I wasn’t expectin’ you to walk in here and tear it all down.”

“You think I came to play house?”I ask softly.

He shakes his head.“I think you came to remind me what it feels like to want somethin’ I can’t have.”

I cup his face, thumb brushing over the scar near his jaw.“You’ve always had me, Hudson.You were just too proud to reach out and take it.”

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