Page 157 of Carnal Urges
He stands back, folds his arms over his chest, and gazes hotly at me.
Waiting.
Holy cheese and rice, this man knows how to welcome a girl home properly.
I slip off my coat and let it fall to the floor. My hands shaking, I unbutton my blouse. It’s long-sleeved white silk, one that I brought with me to New York when I first went to visit Nat, what feels like a lifetime ago. All my clothes were packed in the trunk of the Bentley that I was taken from, and Nat kept them for me at their house.
I make a mental note to ask Declan later what happened to the Betsey Johnson pink tulle skirt I was wearing that night, then clear my head of all thoughts and slip the blouse off my shoulders.
My bra follows it to the floor.
Declan stares at me with avid eyes as I unbutton the fly of my jeans and pull the zipper down. Licking his lips, he watches as I take them off. When I shimmy out of my panties and kick them aside, he does nothing for a long moment but stare at my naked body.
Then he walks an excruciatingly slow circle around me.
From behind, he brushes my hair off my neck. He kisses the nape, then moves his mouth to the side of my throat and gently bites me there, sliding his other hand around my front and down between my legs.
Standing behind me, he growls hotly into my ear, “This is mine. Say it.”
His big hand covers my sex and squeezes.
Breathing hard in anticipation, I whisper, “It’s yours.”
I get a light slap between the legs for my omission.
I jump and blurt, “It’s yours,sir.”
“Aye, baby. Mine. And these.”
He slides his hand up my belly to my left breast, which he also squeezes, then the right, thumbing over my nipples until they’re aching for his mouth.
“Yes, sir. They’re yours.”
A low, pleased growl rumbles through his chest. He slides his hand up to the middle of my sternum, pressing it flat over my throbbing heart.
“And this,” he whispers, nuzzling my neck. “Is this mine, too, baby?”
I inhale a hitching breath and close my eyes, leaning back against his chest. My entire body thrums with electricity. Emotion courses through my veins like fire. My skin is so sensitized, I think I can feel every fiber of his suit jacket against my shoulder blades.
“Yes, sir. All of me, sir. All of me is yours.”
He exhales a rough breath against my skin. Fisting one hand into my hair and winding the other around my throat, he pulls my head back and kisses me.
I open my mouth and let him take and take and take, feeling his erection jut into my ass, knowing that soon he’ll give me what I need and barely being able to contain myself from begging for it.
When he breaks the kiss, he says, “Don’t move, or you’ll be punished.”
He walks around to the dresser on the left side of the bed and opens a drawer. He leans down and removes something from it. Turning back to me, he’s holding a pair of handcuffs in one hand and a black velvet blindfold in the other.
“On your knees.”
His voice is so hot and dark it makes a shiver run through me. It’s his alpha voice, the dominant one. I react to it like Pavlov’s dog and start salivating as I sink to the floor.
He strolls over to me, taking his time, knowing the longer he makes me wait, the more my need will grow. I don’t understand how no one before him, not a single man, ever understood this about me. I didn’t even understand it about myself.
He’s unlocked doors inside me I didn’t realize were closed or were there in the first place.
“Give me your hands.”
