Firebird by Annabel Joseph

for a minute, less than a minute, and already she was tossing around like a tart. She tried to steel herself against the pleasure that threatened to undo her. With a smirk, he laved the other nipple, drawing it between rough lips that teased and tortured before releasing it with one sharp bite. She clenched her teeth to keep the groan inside. His fingertips touched the inside of her thigh and pinched her softly.
    “Are you wet, Prosper?” He whispered it against her ear.
    Her eyes were closed. Please don’t touch me there, or you’ll know. You’ll know.
    “Answer me, ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir,’” he said. “Prosper. Are you wet?”
    “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
    “Louder.”
    “Yes, Sir. I’m wet.”
    He moved his hand farther up the inside of her thigh, and she jerked again. He held his palm over the inadequate triangle of material that covered her. It hovered there, a hairbreadth away. If he pressed down, his palm would come away soaking wet.
    “Please—”
    His unforgiving gaze was terrifying. “Please what? Please touch you?”
    “No, no,” she pleaded. “Please don’t.”
    “I already know you’re wet.” He smiled. “You told me. Either way I would have known. I can look at your eyes and see it.”
    “I just don’t want you to—”
    “Take it as an invitation?”
    “It’s just my body, my body doing things—”
    “Your mind doesn’t agree with your body? Your mind isn’t turned on by what I’m doing to you? Tying you down, touching you, but not quite touching you enough?”
    She looked at him, desperately wanting to produce the right answer. In the end she kept silent, too horny to speak.
    “I turn you on because I like to see it. I’d like to feel it too, but I won’t. Not today. But if I’m turning you on, don’t try to hide it from me. Do you understand, girl?”
    Her mouth fell open a little. If he made her any hotter, her pussy was going to set fire to his bed.
    “‘Yes, Sir,’” he prompted her.
    “Yes, Sir, I won’t hide it. I—I’ll try not to—”
    “Try? No. See that you do.”
    He moved his hand up the inside of her thigh slowly, teasingly. “Okay. Let’s go again. Show me how it feels.”
    When his palm hovered over her center, when she couldn’t evade his eyes and she felt she would die from craving his touch, she stretched and arched with a soft sigh.
    “Good girl,” he said. “More.” He lowered his mouth to her nipples again and wrested two throaty moans from her as he pulled each one into his mouth and suckled it. Her chest rose and fell as pleasure flooded her.
    “You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered. “Under my power. Under my control. Do you want me to control you, Prosper?”
    “Oh, yes, Sir.” She said the words with no conscious thought, only knowing they were true.
    “And what if it hurts sometimes? Will you still want it?”
    “Yes. Yes…” His hand was running over her belly now, down over her garter belt, then lower. He pressed just where her thong began, at the top of her pubis. She gritted her teeth and strained at the ropes. Lower, lower! Please!
    “Yes, I see now.” His breath blew against her ear. “I see exactly what you need. Exactly what you want.”
    She shook her head, past rational thought. He was torturing her. The heel of his hand pressed again on her pubic bone but slid no lower. It wasn’t enough; it wasn’t enough!
    Then his hand left her. He rolled off the bed and began to untie her ankles. Her hips arched, seeking fulfillment he wasn’t going to give. “Our hour is almost up,” he said.
    No, no, it can’t be. I need more.
    He untied her other ankle, then knelt over her to untie her wrists. He straddled her naked breasts, and she could feel his knees pressed against her shoulders, the rough fabric of his pants chafing her nipples. His erection, though clothed, thrust practically against her face. She felt pinned. She felt completely submissive to him. Prosper had never in her twenty-five