Page 43 of A Worthy Opponent
His rough palms drag over my nipples, and I fight down a moan. Every part of me feels overly sensitized, as if the calm during the binding only masked a growing desire I have no way to control now that it’s been released.
He rotates us to face the full-length mirror near the wardrobes. This time I can’t hold back my moan. I look—I don’t have the words to describe how I look. The dark ropes contrast my pale skin, and the lines frame every dip and curve of my body. Parts of me that I love and am self-conscious of, depending on the day. It’s a relatively simple pattern, but it still feels like he turned me into art.
Behind me, Hook is watching me with dark eyes that are so hot, I might combust on the spot. He holds my gaze as he plucks my nipples, the sensation so acute, it’s almost painful. “I’m going to bend you over my bed and fuck you until you can’t do anything but come.”
I suck in a harsh breath. I knew this would happen, of course. But the dark intent written across his face truly highlights how helpless I am in this moment. He can bend me over any surface, and I won’t be able to do anything but take what he gives me. Hell, even if I lost my mind and tried to run, it’s not as if I can work a doorknob with my hands bound like this.
The flicker of fear the thought brings only heightens my desire. I’m well and truly at his mercy. “Do it.”
“Not yet.” He steps away from me, and I almost stumble from the absence of his warmth at my back. I watch him in the mirror as he moves to the foot of the bed and flips up the comforter to pull out a bench that had been tucked beneath the frame. He hauls it over and sets it down behind me. “Sit.”
The command is deceptively simple. With my arms pinned, my balance isn’t quite what it should be, and I have to move slowly to avoid toppling over as I sink onto the bench.
Hook runs his fingers through my hair, slowly, methodically. I want to make a joke, but I can’t quite find the breath to do so. Not with him touching me almost reverently. This shouldn’t be enough to count as foreplay, but with every motion, I have to fight not to nuzzle against his palm like a cat seeking pets. His touch finally shifts, and I force my eyes open to watch him braid my hair back from my face.
“Why do you keep doing that?” I don’t mean to ask the question, but I don’t mean to do a lot when it comes to this man.
“There’s little more annoying than getting hair in your face when you can’t do a damn thing about it.” He finishes the braid and smooths a hand over his work. “And it’s important to me to see every single reaction on that expressive face of yours, especially when we scene.”
“Oh.” Suddenly I feel a whole lot more naked. “Do you normally put this much thought into a scene?”
“Yes.”
That makes me look at him more closely. I’ve…misjudged him? I always knew Hook hid a lot behind that arrogant charisma, but I’m only beginning to realizehowmuch.
He stops in front of me and sinks to his knees as gracefully as any submissive. The thought makes me snort. “You’resupposed to be the Dom. On your knees for no person and all that.”
“You know better.” The look he gives me has me squirming on the bench, though I can’t say for certain if it’s because I’m ashamed of my shit talking or simply a sheer bolt of lust. He pushes my knees wide and makes a sound as he looks at me that confirms… Yep, sheer lust. That’s what I’m feeling right now.
Somehow, my mouth keeps going even though my brain has long since shorted out. “Do I?”
“I do what pleases me, beautiful girl. Right now, it’s seeing you all wrapped up in my ropes, and your pussy wet with desire forme. You’re better than a birthday present.”
Before I can blurt out a response to that, he grips me under my thighs and tips me back. I’m still squawking at the sudden shift in balance, at being utterly at his mercy, when his mouth descends on my pussy.
Chapter 17
Tink
Idon’t know where to look. At the image in the mirror of this man kneeling between my spread thighs, my body on display from the rope work. At the man himself, exploring my pussy with his mouth as if he wasn’t doing the same thing fewer than twenty-four hours ago.
The logic gets twisted up in my head, but I can’t help it. There’s no space for thinking clearly. There’s only his touch and the ropes holding me as helpless as his hands bracketing my thighs.
If he lets go, I’ll fall.
I’m terribly afraid that I’m falling despite that.
He sucks hard on my clit, and my frantic mental circling thoughts morph into a high keening sound. I’m only partially embarrassed to realize it’s coming out of my mouth. I thrash, but even I can’t say if I’m trying to get closer to his wicked tongue or put more distance between us.
It doesn’t matter. I’m completely at his mercy. I won’t be going anywhere until he allows it.
The knowledge spins beneath my skin, gathering strength and heat. Trapped, yes. But not helpless. A fine line we’retreading. Too far in either direction and he’ll trigger a response I have no control over. One of true terror.
“Tink.” He doesn’t look up, barely lifts his head enough to speak. “Tell me something.” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer, which is just as well. I can’t quite find the breath in my lungs to form words with his lips ghosting over my clit. “How often did you watch me scene in the Underworld?”
He resumes circling my clit with his tongue slowly. Not quite teasing but also not getting me where I need to be. More like he wants to memorize the exact shape of me, to file away every involuntary shake and shudder and moan.
Like this means as much to him as it’s starting to mean to me.
