Page 15 of Only For Your Touch
“Come with me,” Sasha rumbled, and she hadn’t realized she’d stumbled to a halt. Sparing the scene one last glance, she trailed behind him.
As they exited the playroom and headed down the corridor, she touched her face. Sasha hadn’t tied on the mask. She parted her lips to remind him when he paused in front of an orange door. He entered the room, waving her inside and shutting the door behind them.
Apparently they wouldn’t need the mask.
Her heart thudded against her rib cage, the sound echoing inside her head in a deafening roar. Silly to be nervous. Especially after all they’d already done together. But his eerie wolf gaze and silence added to the tension vibrating in the room like a plucked guitar string. She turned away from him and surveyed the room, attempting to calm the storm rioting inside her.
A large four-poster bed dominated most of the room, and the longer she stared at it, the bigger it seemed to grow. Shifting her attention, she took in the tall, cherry-wood armoire in one corner, a chest of the same gleaming wood at the foot of the bed, a couple of bedside tables, and from the ceiling…Holy shit.
A steel ring hung from the ceiling, and attached to it were two black cuffs.
She’d never seen any kind of bondage equipment before, but just the sight of it clicked something on inside her. Something hot, strong, and powerful. Because it wasn’t her she’d envisioned strapped to and hanging from the ring.
It was Sasha.
His big body straining against the restraints, his sharp cheekbones flushed, his sensual mouth wearing a snarl as she controlled his pleasure, owned it.
Slowly, she pivoted, returning her attention to Sasha, the image of him fresh and vibrant in her mind. She moved forward, and with each step toward him, strips of the old Corrine with her doubts, fears, and insecurities peeled away, leaving a newer, brighter, larger version in its place. This Corrine could tame the Russian warrior in front of her.
Sasha remained still, watching her, but his hooded gaze was almost a physical caress on her face. This time, instead of turning away from it, she basked in it.
“You know, I’ve been doing some thinking since leaving last night,” she murmured, brushing her fingertip over the top button of his shirt before slipping the small disc through its hole. She didn’t ask permission to remove his clothing, and he didn’t stop her either. His wolf gaze studied her, the hooded inspection heavy and hot on her face. “Either you have a third nipple or some other deformity. Or you’re deliberately avoiding my giving you the same pleasure you brought me.” With the last button freed, she tugged open the halves of his shirt. “Nope,” she breathed, swallowing a sigh at his masculine beauty. “No third nipple. So number two must be it. Why? What are you afraid of?” She tipped her head back, nailed him with her own gaze, and dared him to deny her. “Me?” she whispered.
She smoothed her palms up his ridged abdomen and hard chest, humming in pleasure. This was her first time touching him, andGod. Taut skin, muscle, and delicious power. It seemed to vibrate under her like an engine. And she had all of it, literally, in her hands.
“Corrine,” he rumbled.
“You’re so beautiful,” she interrupted, for a moment distracted by…him. She stroked her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, sliding the shirt off. Leaning forward, she placed her cheek against a firm bicep, then kissed it, sucked the almost non-existent give of skin between her teeth. If she hadn’t been so in tune with him, she might have missed the slight catch in his breath. But she didn’t. And she vowed to have more of those. Many, many more. “So perfect.” Rising on her tiptoes, she retraced the path her hands had just traveled—up his arm, over his shoulder, his chest. “So strong,” she praised, rubbing her mouth back and forth over his pectoral, sinking her teeth into the dense muscle. Savoring his soft grunt.
She repeated the not-so-gentle nip, lifting her hand and toying with his flat, brown nipple. A flick of her fingernail, a sweep of her thumb, a hard pinch, and the nub tightened under her fingers.
“Corrine.” Sasha groaned, gripping her waist, his fingers digging into her skin.
“You like that,” she stated, not asking. His tight hold on her as well as the thick erection pressing into her stomach told her everything she needed to know. “More?” When he didn’t answer, she tugged harder on his nipple, dragging the edge of her teeth over it. His growl rumbled loud and rough in the room. “More?” she asked again.
“Fuck, yes,” he ground out. “Harder,lisichka.”
Taking him at his word, she bit harder, then soothed it with long, indulgent licks. One of his hands moved to the nape of her neck, holding her to him as she worked him over, sucking, stabbing the peak with the tip of her tongue, abrading him with her teeth. Switching to the other nipple, she treated it to the same sensual torture, losing herself in his taste—the woodsy, clean flavor mixed with his unique scent—drowning in his reactions, burning in lust.
Soon it wasn’t enough. She gave his nipple one last lick before lowering to the ladder of muscle bridging his stomach. Closing her eyes, she traced each ridge, not leaving one section of him undiscovered. He was like a smorgasbord of beauty, and though her knowledge of art extended only to her favorite Mona Lisa coffee cup, she could appreciate the perfect sculpture of his body. Could easily envision it in a European gallery, wowing people with its magnificence.
Her lips bumped the band of his pants, and she straightened, glancing toward the ring and cuffs on the other side of the room. When she returned her contemplation to him, his eyes blazed down at her as if reading her thoughts.
Biting her lip, she slid around him, dropping one hand inside his pants, going lower and lower until her fingertips swept across coarse hairs at the bottom of his pelvic bone. The other hand, she trailed up his back…and around his throat. Cupping the strong column, she squeezed, not strong enough to cut off his air, but enough to let him know—he belonged to her tonight. He stiffened and didn’t speak—didn’t need to.
After several seconds, she edged back, her hands going to the side zipper of her green minidress. She tugged it down and shrugged the garment off her shoulders and pushed it down her hips. When it lay in a pool of material at her feet, she stepped out of the circle and slipped each stiletto off, then stood before him in her lace bra and panties. Silence roared between them as they stared at each other across the small distance.
Gooseflesh pebbled her skin, but not from cold or nerves. From need, from excitement. From him. She wanted him. On her terms. Under her control. Submitting to her will. Having this fierce, strong man bend to her was addictive…an aphrodisiac.
“Come here,” she murmured. For a long, long moment he didn’t move. Some dark, conflicting emotion darkened his eyes, flattened his mouth, clenched his jaw. Disappointment crawled through her, and tendrils of doubt curled inside her. Okay, maybe she’d played this all wrong…
He crossed the space separating them, not stopping until his chest brushed hers. Triumph surged within her, and she shivered at his nearness, not caring that he saw. She wanted him to see how he affected her. Besides, he’d had his fingers and his tongue inside her pussy; her desire for him wasn’t a well-kept secret.
“What do you want from me, Corrine?” he asked, his voice low, harsh, a seductive lure and threat.
“This.” She cupped his cock through his pants, squeezing the thick, rock-hard length. His hiss of breath mingled with her moan. Her flesh contracted, and the sense of emptiness inside her amplified, freaking echoed. “I want you in my mouth, down my throat.” She tightened her grip on him, observed the lust flare hotter, brighter in his eyes. Watched it firm his mouth into a grim line. “You would be the first, Sasha,” she taunted. “I’ve never let anyone else have me like that. Will you fuck my mouth, teach me how to make you come?”
His chest rose and fell, and his nostrils flared. Savage lust sharpened every line and angle of his face. She’d pushed him too far. The thought whispered through her head, and she braced herself for his explosive reaction. But he didn’t pick her up and throw her on the bed. Not one muscle twitched except for the continued movement of his chest.
