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He slides his hands beneath me in an urgent grip, pulling me under every hard, hot inch of him. Then those big hands grasp my thighs and pull them apart. I don’t even have the chance to draw a breath before he settles into the cradle of my thighs, as if he belongs. As if he has every right to be there.
His muscled legs shove my thighs wider. I open my mouth to protest. I really ought to. But another wild sweep of his tongue through my mouth and a rock of his hips bumps his impressive cock against my clit and makes me swallow my words. Against my better judgment—do I have any left?—undeniable pleasure arcs through me. Liquid heat drowns my protests. My senses spin. My thoughts dissipate. My body aches.
He could sate your need.
As if sensing my inner struggle, he sweeps through my mouth again with possessive abandon. He coaxes me with the hot demand of his lips, the tangle of his tongue with mine, the taut cradle of his arms around me. Harsh…but holding back to show me he can be gentle, despite the hunger I sense whipping through him.
It lashes me, too.
Have I ever ached this badly? Wanted anyone with such head-swimming intensity? No. If Tim had been able to make me feel like this, I would have never let the man out of my sight.
“Want you,” he breathes harshly in my ear. “So damn bad.”
His words make my belly—and parts lower—pulse in a ferocious beat. I stop fighting the sensation I can’t stop. He melts me. Completely. Makes me dizzy. Crazy. I’ve never known anything like it. There, I’ve admitted it.
Moaning into his mouth, I arch closer and kiss him. He answers with a moan, curling his tongue around mine, entangling us again. I invite him to take his fill. I surrender.
Instantly, the stranger takes his possession deeper. He holds my face in his hands like I’m beyond precious to him. But his kiss… He takes my mouth again. He’s fierce, his hunger desperate. He ignites me even more. I feel every crush of his lips and lash of his tongue against my own deep inside me, where I’m now soaking and aching and praying he’ll soon sate my craving with satisfaction.
Wanting to touch him, I fight the cuffs. I need my hands on the sleek, hard flesh I know lurks under his T-shirt. Arching, entreating, I whimper into his mouth. On their own, my legs part farther, wrapping around him.
“Yes,” he growls. “Give me everything.”
He rocks against me again. The ache between my legs coils impossibly tighter. I’m on fire. The heat rages inside me, demanding I learn the taste of his skin and memorize the feel of his bunching shoulders under my palms as he thrusts every inch of his cock inside me.
“Uncuff me,” I pant. “Please. I want to touch you.”
“Next time. If you touch me now, I’ll explode.”
Suddenly, he rears back. I feel cold without him—until I hear the rustling of clothing.
He’s undressing.
This is happening, really happening. A stranger is in my bedroom, stripping so he can have sex with me. I would swear I was dreaming…but I know this is real.
A whisper of misgiving shifts through me. “I’m afraid. I—I’ve never been tied down.”
He leans over me. His heat seeps inside me. “Get used to it. I’m going to love having you bound and under me so I can watch you come while you’re at my mercy.”
Oh, god. He’s naked. Now, his wicked words are stripping my defenses. But something tugs at me, something familiar about his voice. Have I heard it before?
A fast, fierce kiss puts an end to the thought. His clever tongue sweeps through my mouth and captures mine. The kiss becomes a tango of shallow breaths and urgency, fueled by his buttery-rich skill. He kisses me ruthlessly, like a man with just one thing on his mind.
He’s making me think about sex, too. In fact, I can’t think about anything else.
The cacophony of sensations ricochets through my body, settling right where I ache like I’d been without sex for centuries, not a couple of years.
“Hurry,” I demand.
“I’ve waited so damn long. I’m not rushing this.”
He’s waited? For me? That makes no sense, but his gruff whisper shoots a fresh, unwanted thrill through my body. I throb. I whine.
“Hmm. The need in your voice…and you’ve flushed the prettiest pink. Everything about you turns me on.”
His words are low and rough and arousing—with that familiar hint. Should I know it?
I frown, trying to puzzle out the answer. But he settles on top of me again, my sensitive breasts meeting the hot slab of his chest, hair grazing my nipples.
