I Brake For Bad Boys (15 page)

She understood his insinuation, that he wanted her to tempt and tease him. Her palms came up and fondled her breasts, and her thumbs rasped across the rigid tips. Her movements were hesitant at first, then gradually she relaxed and gave in to her body's explicit demands. She rolled the pearls over her nipples and moaned softly as her other hand drifted lower, caressing the soft, smooth skin of her stomach and played with the satin strap of her garter belt.

She was so damned sexy she made his insides ache and his palms sweat. Anticipation gripped him, and his jaw clenched hard as those long, slender fingers of hers delved between her splayed thighs, traced the opening of her panties, then glided over her wet, swollen flesh in a series of slow, languid caresses. She closed her eyes, her head fell back on a groan, and she shuddered with need.

Eric knew she was lost in her own little world where gratification was the ultimate goal, and she was heading toward her own climax fast. No way was he going to let her go there without taking him along for the ride.

Wrapping his fingers around the base of his shaft, he began a slow, squeezing upward stroke. His hand enveloped the head of his cock, his thumb grazed over the sensitive tip, and his entire body vibrated as his own orgasm beckoned. “Watch me, too, Jill,” he rasped, his voice as dark as the night, as raw as the hunger welling within him.

Her lashes fluttered open to half-mast. But it was enough for her to watch him pump the rigid length of his penis in a tight grip while her hips undulated sinuously against her fingers. Knowing she was as close to coming as he was, he gauged her response, the quick rise and fall of her chest, the sensual haze clouding her eyes, and the flush rising on her cheeks. Her moist lips parted, and a low, throaty moan erupted from her throat as she lost herself in wild sensation.

He watched her take her pleasure for as long as he could, but there was no denying the familiar tightening between his legs, and the way his stomach muscles constricted in warning. Exhaling a hissing breath, he erupted in a gut-wrenching release, the sheer primal heat of his climax radiating outward in scalding, pulsating waves that seemed to go on and on.

With a quivering, replete sigh, Jill fell back on the mattress to recover while he grabbed a tissue from the box on the nightstand. He was still semi-erect, and there was no doubt that by the time he was done with the foreplay he still had in mind, he'd be raring to go again.

Jill ran a shaky hand through her hair, unable to believe what she'd just done . . . that she'd just brought herself to an incredibly intense orgasm in front of a man, something she'd never done before. And she'd liked doing it, as much as she'd enjoyed witnessing Eric's own loss of control. She felt light-headed, drunk on passion and power and the thrill of the forbidden.

“Move to the center of the bed,” Eric said, his voice a soft, sexy rumble that reawakened her senses.

Too sated to move, she forced her eyes open and rolled her head to the side to get a better view of him. He stood at the edge of the bed, between her spread legs, his pitch-black hair falling haphazardly over his forehead. He was amazingly aroused all over again and she would have been just as happy if he pulled her thighs over his hips and drove into her just as they were.

But it was the wide sash from her robe that he was running through his fingers that caught her attention, as did the wicked gleam in his eyes. He wasn't done with her, and her heartbeat accelerated.

“Did you not understand my request?” His tone was clipped and impatient, his entire demeanor weaving a dark, dangerous kind of fantasy.

His abrupt change startled and confused her, because she wasn't sure if they were segueing into another fantasy. “Yes. I heard you.”

The muscles in his arms flexed as he tightened the long, silk tether between his two fists. “As your owner, keep in mind that I don't like to ask for anything twice, and I won't tolerate disobedience from you.”

Her owner?
It took an extra moment for understanding to dawn in her sluggish brain. “Which makes me your sex slave?”

His gaze raked down the length of her possessively, visually branding her as his. “You're mine, bought and paid for, to do with as I please.”

A slow, curling warmth pervaded her body, and she was feeling reckless enough to follow his lead and slip into whatever role he wanted her to play, do anything he asked, because she knew she'd be rewarded with exquisite pleasure. She moved to the center of the bed and stretched out, shivering as the cool pearls glided around her neck and gathered at her throat. He first took off her heels, then knelt between her thighs. Dropping the sash to the side, he unfastened one of her stockings from the garter belt and slowly, leisurely rolled the garment down her long leg and let his fingers trail along the smooth skin he exposed. He repeated the process with the other pale stocking and removed the garter belt itself, but left her provocative panties in place.

Then he straddled her waist, and his wide shoulders seemed so massive, his hips so lean, his thighs so hard and strong. He was all male, as dominant and aggressive as he claimed to be. His heavy sacs rested against her stomach, and his penis was impressively hard once again. He was a man who could easily overpower her in such a position, yet she felt no threat and trusted him implicitly with her body. It was her heart she had to protect from him, she feared, because he drew her like no other man ever had.

He unclasped her bra, barely grazing the undersides of the plump flesh with his fingers in the process, but the fleeting contact set off an instantaneous response. Her freed breasts swelled and peaked, aching to be fondled, caressed, suckled, but he did none of those things, much to her frustration.

He picked up one of her discarded stockings and tested the durability with a strong tug. “Give me your hands.”

Remembering his earlier words about not asking twice, she submitted obediently to his request. She extended her hands, and he bound her wrists with the sheer silk, then tied them securely to the wooden headboard with the other stocking.

He reached for the sash he'd left on the bed beside her and wrapped the three inches of fabric over her eyes, blocking her vision, and tied the ends at the back of her head. She was completely at his mercy and every whim. She wondered how something so utterly barbaric could be so tantalizing. So stimulating.

“Why do I need to be tied up
and
blindfolded?” she asked.

“When you can't see, all your other senses are heightened.” Lazily, he trailed his fingers from the pearls around her neck, down her chest and over her ribs as a demonstration.

She trembled and gooseflesh rose on her skin. “My senses are heightened just fine, and I feel at a complete disadvantage.”

“Umm, that you are,” he murmured huskily. “Which is all the better for me to have my way with you.”

He leaned over her and kissed her lips, softly, sweetly, and she automatically opened her mouth to him, inviting him deeper. He slanted his mouth across hers, and their tongues tangled and mated insatiably. The kiss was deliciously unhurried, designed to make her melt beneath his sensual assault, which she did.

What seemed like minutes later, he lifted his lips from hers, his hot, damp breath feathering across her cheek. “See, all you have to do is lie there and enjoy yourself,” he said.

She heard the wicked timbre of his voice, and knew he was wearing a grin that matched. Tentatively, she tugged on her restraints to test them, but they were secure, allowing her no escape unless she begged for it, which she suspected Eric would have no qualms making her do.

A frisson of excitement shot through her, and she waited for the illicit fantasy to begin.

 

 

Eric stood by the side of Jill's bed for long minutes, letting the anticipation build as he stared at the beautiful woman secured to the bedpost for his sole pleasure and enjoyment—a woman who'd extended him so much trust with her body. Now, he wanted that same faith with her emotions, which was what tonight was all about. Trust, and honesty, too.

He'd never wanted those things with any other women, but he found he needed that intimacy and bond from Jill. Their relationship might have started out based on sex and a temporary affair, but there was no denying there was so much more at risk now.

Such as his own emotions, possibly even his heart.

The lamplight gave her curvaceous body a warm, golden sheen and enhanced the highlights in her auburn hair. She shifted anxiously on the mattress and her thighs rubbed sinuously. He licked his dry lips, wondering if he'd ever seen such perfection. Wondering, too, if what he was about to do to her would bring them closer, or shatter any chance at a relationship with her beyond tonight.

It was a gamble he was willing to take. His plan was risky, and certainly recklessly erotic, but he had little to lose, and so much to gain.

Picking up the lavender rose from the nightstand, he touched the bud to her nose, allowing her to inhale the sweet, drugging fragrance. Lightly, he dragged the flower down her neck and over the rapid pulse at the base of her throat. He circled the breasts that had firmed and swelled the closer he glided the satiny petals toward their taut crests.

Tugging on the bonds holding her arms above her head, she moaned in frustration and arched her back, bringing her nipples into direct contact with the velvet textured petals.

“Please,” she breathed, the one word holding a wealth of meaning.

“Oh, I plan to,” he drawled in low, hushed tones. Sweeping the delicate rose over her belly, he dipped into her navel, and traced her thighs down to her feet, causing her entire body to quiver in expectation. There was only one place left untouched, and as he trailed the flower back up the inside of her legs she eagerly parted them for his caress. Her breathing deepened the closer he came to the treasure nestled between her thighs, and a gasp caught in her throat when he twirled the tip of the rose against the swollen nub of flesh, rewarding her for her submissiveness and heightening her need.

When he finally lifted the flower, the lavender petals glistened with her moisture. Plucking a petal, he let it flutter to her flat stomach. “She wants me . . . she wants me not,” he recited playfully as each satiny petal drifted to her skin, until the last one settled on her mound and he finished with, “She wants me.”

He splayed his hand on her belly and rubbed the fragrant petals over her skin, then leisurely moved upward to knead each breast. “Do you want me?” he asked.

“Yes.” She moaned raggedly, and bit her bottom lip when he rolled an erect nipple between his fingers.

“I assure you, the feeling is mutual, but I'm not through playing yet.” Unclasping the pearls from around her neck, he followed the same path he'd just taken with the rose, rolling the beads around her breasts and over her hard, straining nipples. “Do you like the way that feels?”

She nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

He dragged the gleaming pearls over her soft belly. “Do you want more?”

Her hips lifted in an intimate dance of desire and need. “Yes.
Please.
”

“So polite.” He let the pearls slither over her stomach and arranged a strand so it fell between her parted thighs and teased her plump outer lips with the slightest movement she made. “No need to be proper, love, because I'll give you anything you want, and more, if you'll let me.”

“Yes.” The word escaped on a croak, and she tried again,
“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Walking to the end of the bed, he moved up onto the mattress and knelt between her thighs. Hooking his fingers along the underside of her knees, he drew her legs up and lowered his head. At the first touch of his lips on her skin she groaned and quivered. He skimmed his open mouth up her thigh, making a trail of hot, damp kisses that had her writhing and the pearls he'd so artfully arranged flickering against her feminine folds. The scent of her arousal teased his nostrils, making him impossibly harder and thicker than he already was. Her passion pleased him and her response fired his blood.

He upped the stakes on their game of fulfillment.

Knowing what he was about to do would undoubtedly shock her, he moved up and over the length of her, buried one hand into her hair at the back of her head to hold her steady, and crushed his mouth to hers. Her lips parted on a gasp, and he slipped his tongue deep into the sweet recesses of her mouth. She kissed him back, matching the wet, silken glide of his tongue while his free hand skimmed down her body, found the pearls, and rolled the smooth beads along her soft, wet cleft.

She tensed. With a confused whimper, she attempted to clamp her legs together. He was stronger, more determined, and he had the advantage since her hands were secured. Holding her legs spread with his thigh wedged between, and deepening his kisses, he gently pushed the pearls into her sheath, one by one. Her body bucked frantically beneath his and he swallowed her soft moans. The two strands were long, filling her until the clasp, and about a dozen pearls remained as a catch.

She wrenched her mouth from his, panting. “What are you doing?” She yanked on the silk wrapped around her wrists and thrashed wildly. “This can't be normal!”

“Normal? Definitely not,” he agreed, plucking one, two, three pearls from her and watching her chest rise and fall and her nipples tighten. Lowering his head, he flicked his tongue along the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Sexy, naughty, and erotic,
absolutely.
”

“Take them out,” she said primly, though there was an unmistakable quiver of excitement in her voice.

“Oh, I will,” he promised, nuzzling her neck. “As soon as you admit you're turned on, and that you like the way those silky pearls feel against your inner walls.”