Page 122 of Heat & Deceit
Suddenly, I’m mad he promised to be a gentleman.
“Okay,” I breathe, whining a little in protest when he removes his hands from the rope.
A soft, wicked chuckle brushes over my neck, and he lays a kiss on my jumping pulse. “You’re perfect.” His hand comes to the back of my head, pinning me in place, so he can tease his teeth over my sensitive flesh. “Delectable.” He bites my neck softly, and a shameless moan slips past my lips. To my dismay, he pulls away and moves behind me, grabbing my wrists and placing them at my back.
Silky rope wraps round and round until they’re snuggly tied, secured. Javi purrs in approval and places a hand between my shoulders, pushing gently. I let his touch guide me to the mat, face down, ass up.
He groans, and his hands run up the back of my thighs, stopping before they reach my wet heat. They drag over my skin, running over every safe part of me. Testing the knots, caressing my skin. He lavishes compliment after compliment, until his touch is synonymous with praise.
In my head, there is no panic or fear. Only trust that he won’t take things further—even though I wouldn’t mind if he did—and the desperate desire to hear my name tumble from his lips. I don’t know how much time has passed when he guides me up, helping me stand. My eyes are firmly shut. His hand brushes my hair from my shoulders, and I shiver. Javi guides me a few steps forward and then moves to my back. He presses in close enough that I can feel the heat of his body, but he keeps enough distance to ensure he doesn’t wrench my hands. My hands, bound behind my back, brush over his crotch. My fingers uncurl, and I tease my touch over his hardened length.
“Stop,” he growls.
Immediately, I withdraw, frowning at the sharp tone. My pulse jumps.
“Open your eyes.”
I do, finding myself in front of the mirror, but instead of inspecting the rope, I find his gaze in the reflective surface. They’re not filled with anger. They’re filled with adoration.
“Breathe.”
I do as I’m told.
“Very good, mentirosa.” He moves his hands to my bound wrists, quickly untying them. I keep them where he had them, waiting for his instruction. Lifting them up, he places my arms on either side of his head, and I instantly link them together, back arching to accommodate the movement. He lines up his body with mine, every hard ridge pressing into my softer skin. “Look at you,” he purrs, placing his hand at my throat.
My eyes shift down the mirror, taking in the hand necklace. It’s possessive, but not in an overbearing way. More a definitive claim. I smile and move my gaze over his handiwork. Somehow, he’s created a geometric pattern with the rope. My tits press through the rope circling them. His forearm rests over the top of one, and his fingers flex beneath my jaw.
“Do you see what I see?” he asks, placing his free hand right above the apex of my thighs, chest rumbling in approval when I melt into his hold.
“I don’t know,” I confess.
“Wearing this rope, my hand at your neck, I see something that I desperately want to be mine.” His lips kick into a lazy smirk. “And I’m selfish enough to try and keep you all to myself.”
My cheeks pinken. “Lycus and Rome would never allow that.”
He chuckles. “I suppose not, but when I have you here, my rope crisscrossing over your body, I want to know you’re mine.” He holds my gaze. “Will you be mine, Nova? Will you be my good girl?”
Without thinking, I nod and press my ass into him. “Please.”
He tsks. “Say it.”
My mind blanks for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what he wants. Dirty requests are on the tip of my tongue, but that’s not what he wants. He wants my agreement. He wants me to agree to being his.
He wants my submission.
And I’ve never wanted to give it so willingly before. “I’m yours.”
“And whose good girl are you?” He grinds his hard cock against my ass. There are too many layers of clothes separating us.
“Yours.” I suck in a sharp breath as his hand slides lower, cupping my cunt.
“And whose is this?”
Right now, it’s all his.
“Yours.”
“Say my name.”
