Page 115 of The Vigilante's Lover
“Spread your knees,” he says.
I do what I’m told, so desperate, so full of need, that I’ll follow any instruction.
His fingers come up inside me, one on the swollen nub. I jerk when he touches it. The contact is like a spark. Then I rotate down on his hand, wanting to work toward that climax, to let loose the tension in my belly that is driving me insane.
“Not yet,” he says, and his free hand comes around me, his arm locking around my middle. He holds me up, stilling my movements. I am at his mercy.
The belt keeps me in place. There are no knots for me to untie. I keep my head down, my breathing hard and erratic. I need this more than I can bear. I never knew I would want something so dark, so much.
When I’ve gone quiet and still, he begins to work me again, on his terms. His fingers explore every part of me. I relax into it, letting pleasure wash over me. And I understand. I was rushing things. Pushing too fast too hard. I have to let him control it, control me.
A long moan escapes as he picks up the rhythm. He seems to trust I’m on board now and releases the tight grip on me, massaging a breast instead. He tugs at a nipple and another rush flows through my body.
His mouth is on the back of my neck. “You are so deliciously wet,” he says. “I’m not going to be able to resist that.”
He turns me around onto my back again. He steps away, and my whole body quakes with the loss of his pressure and his warmth.
“I know what I want,” he says. He reaches beneath the pillows, and jerks the covers off the bed from underneath me. I land on a cool sheet.
He pulls that down as well and begins to wind the length of itaround his hand. “Won’t be able to reach these ties,” he says wickedly.
His dark hair is mussed. He takes my ankle and winds the sheet around it, then lashes it to the knob at the bottom corner of the bed. His hand slides up my shin, over my knee, and along my thigh. I drop my head back, waiting for the touch I’m longing for. But he continues, going back down and wrapping the opposite corner of the sheet around my other ankle.
He’s tied me down, spread wide across the bed.
“Let’s put a little more light on the subject, shall we?” he asks. He walks to the window and jerks the curtains open wide. The late afternoon sun blasts inside. The windows take up the entire side wall, floor to ceiling. We’re on a high floor, so no one can see in, but I feel like I’m on display. It’s hot and intoxicating. I imagine someone watching us, watching me, and another hot thrill flows through me.
Who have I become? I’m so brazen. It’s like I skipped past virginity 101 and straight into my doctorate.
Jax turns to survey me. He gives a little growl and lunges for the bed. His mouth is everywhere, breast, belly, then down into the folds.
I lurch up, pressing into him. His tongue is intense, lapping at me, then he’s sucking on the nub. His hand steals upward to clasp my breast and I’m losing it, shattering, the need exploding out into an orgasm.
Jax feeds it, taking it higher, extending it out. His hands move beneath me and lift me more firmly into him. The cascades keep coming, and I’m crying and saying random words and totally totally lost.
He lets me come down, but only a little, before he works his way up my body, his mouth trailing along my skin. He takes a nipple in his mouth and he’s already back, fingers inside me, keeping me going, refusing to let me rest.
I don’t know that I can handle any more, the pleasure sliding over into an exquisite form of torture. I want to touch him, to lower my arms, to move my legs. But I am his, and I’m not in control here.
He breaks away and strips off his shirt. “No more seeing what I’mup to,” he says, and the sleeve comes over my eyes. He ties it down and the world is reduced to shadows through the white cotton.
I hear the thud of his shoes on the floor and the cool hum of his zipper coming down. I want to see him, that hard chest and flat belly, those powerful thighs. But I can only listen and breathe.
Sensations become intense. The cut of the belt into my wrist. The coolness of the sheet around my ankles. I smell him on his shirt, aftershave and outdoors.
The room gets deadly quiet. I strain, but I can’t hear anything.
Then there’s a tinkle of ice, melting and falling in his glass across the room.
Or not. It seems closer than that.
I know what’s coming a second before it hits. The icy shock of cold against a nipple. I buck up on the bed and jerk my head from side to side. It’s torment, and just when I don’t think I can take it another second, it’s gone, replaced by something warm, wet. His mouth. He breathes hot against me and the relief and pleasure is so intense that I want to weep.
Jax continues to work the tortured skin until it is warm and pliant again. Then he pulls away.
Without any contact, I don’t know what is next. I hold my breath, trying to fix on his position in the room.
Something warm and wet dribbles on my stomach and slides into my belly button. It pools there for a moment.
