Page 134 of Mexico Can Choke On It
I force a smile. “Just plotting your demise, Moneybags. You’re not escaping the torture I still owe you.”
He exhales a quiet laugh. “Are you going to be gentle?”
“Not a chance.”
He shifts on top of me, pinning me while he attacks my neck with stubble-rough kisses. I howl with laughter.
“You’re adding to your punishment,” I warn between giggles, trying to squirm.
“Bring it on.” His grin is pure sin as he captures my wrists above my head. “I can handle whatever you’ve got.”
“Oh, B. If only you knew.”
Twenty minutes later, Bryce is tied up and spread eagle—the world’s hottest hostage. Arms and legs flung wide, the smug bastard is full naked starfish. His own silk ties are doing the Lord’s work, securing those pricey limbs to the bed. And because I’m merciful(and trying not to pounce early), I’ve strategically placed a fluffy white pillow over his penis.
I give one of the wrist ties a little tug, testing my handiwork. Solid.
“Comfortable?” I ask sweetly.
He gives a devious grin and lifts a brow. “As excited as I am about this… interrogation, I do have a conference call with Tokyo in ninety minutes.”
I trail a finger down his chest. “Don’t worry, Moneybags. You won’t be late.”
I pause.“Though I can’t promise you’ll be able to concentrate after I’m done with you.”
His dark, hungry gaze meets mine. “That’s a hell of a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
With my eyes locked on his, I hook my thumbs into my black lace panties and slowly slide them off. His breathing halts entirely as I ball them up and toss them… on his face.
“Souvenir,” I say with a wink.
“Petra—”
“Shh.” I climb onto the bed, crawling up his body until I’m straddling his chest, and then I slide up even higher.
Over his collarbone.
His throat.
And then…
I settle my center over his lips like I’m his favorite reckless investment.
I lift my panties off his pouty expression. “Now be a good boy andlick.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
He makes a sound—somewhere between a groan and a growl—before his mouth makes contact.
Holy hell.
This man’s tongue is a conductor’s baton, guiding me with masterful movements. He begins with broad, sweeping strokes against my clit, sending jolts of pleasure through me that make my eyes roll back. Then he shifts to precise, targeted flicks, and I’m clutching the headboard.
He reacts to every sound I make, a man on a mission to drive me wild. His focused intensity leaves my legs trembling and my breath ragged.
I meant to tease him. Workhimup. But I’m the one unraveling.
