mouth. Their teeth clicked together. Hard.
She moaned into him. His hands spread across her lower back. The blend of cold metal and warm leather scraped her skin. She bit his lower lip, which gave slightly under her teeth.
Leah pulled back, gripping his silky hair when his mouth tried to follow her.
God, it was like she’d been waiting six years for this force. This energy. Every move he’d ever made was recast as a silent promise of that moment…
Leah reached out and found the matching cuff in the drawer. It locked around his other wrist with another quiet click she could barely hear over the whooshing in her ears. Lacing her fingers through his, she pulled his hands into the small space between their bodies to look at the matching cuffs. Strong, rough wrists. Taut tendons. A light dusting of golden hair. All of it bound, as he’d allowed her to do.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” she breathed.
“You’re telling me.”
She kissed him the second time, taking his mouth with hers. Her fingers clawed under his T-shirt, then yanked it up over his head. She held back a soft moan when she finally saw him bared.
He looked every bit as good as she’d thought he would. The thick, heavy curves of his pecs were dusted with a whorl of golden-brown hair. His tightly sprung abs weren’t just a six-pack but a freaking eight -pack. She wanted to bite her way down his body and scrape her nails over the rows of tiny ligaments that bound his ribs to his stomach.
With her hands at his shoulders, she pushed him onto the mattress until he stretched out sideways across the wide space. He let her, leashing all that latent strength.
She crawled onto the bed, over him, kissing him the whole time. Her knee grazed over the thick bulge of his cock, all wrapped up in his jeans. She paused, then deliberately did it again. A little hint of danger. She absorbed his full-body shudder.
Even through the thick denim, he was huge. His cock seemed bigger than she remembered, but maybe that was his excitement. He was masculine enough to club things, all full-on Neanderthal, but he didn’t. He was holding back, obviously reining himself in. Waiting on her. Waiting on her commands.
Her thoughts hit her so strongly that she needed to press flat against him, edging her knees out to straddle him. She laced her fingers through the bands of the leather cuffs and pinned him down with his wrists by his head.
She took another kiss, even rougher this time, trying to steel herself for what she might do next. Nothing prevented the wild-fire heat that roared up once she fitted her pussy over his cock and rocked. Twice. God, that felt so damn good, like she could come from the pressure alone.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to pull back. Her tongue slicked over her bottom lip, drawing in his taste—sweetness from the sodas, plus a salty bite that was only him.
“Michael,” she purred, intentionally grazing her nipples over his bare chest. “You do realize I’m going to do very bad things to you?”
Chapter Eight
Mike had lost the rhythm of his own breath. It pressed out of his lungs in fits and hot gulps. Every inhalation brushed his naked skin against Leah’s lush breasts. He wiggled his fingers, which tingled almost to the point of numbness.
“Yes,” he rasped. “I realize that.”
She was going to do bad things to him, and thank Christ for it. The razor blade of the last few moments had dulled, replaced by a different sort of danger. No more worry about whether he’d misjudged her—only a calm hunger as his arousal spiked.
Relief came first. Then anticipation. His pleasure was another person’s domain now. That simple release held an appeal he’d never been able to explain. From it he found the most satisfaction.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered, her voice somewhat awed.
“I am.”
“Is it me or the getup?”
“Both.”
She leaned in close and licked him from the notch at the base of his throat up to his chin. His
She moaned into him. His hands spread across her lower back. The blend of cold metal and warm leather scraped her skin. She bit his lower lip, which gave slightly under her teeth.
Leah pulled back, gripping his silky hair when his mouth tried to follow her.
God, it was like she’d been waiting six years for this force. This energy. Every move he’d ever made was recast as a silent promise of that moment…
Leah reached out and found the matching cuff in the drawer. It locked around his other wrist with another quiet click she could barely hear over the whooshing in her ears. Lacing her fingers through his, she pulled his hands into the small space between their bodies to look at the matching cuffs. Strong, rough wrists. Taut tendons. A light dusting of golden hair. All of it bound, as he’d allowed her to do.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” she breathed.
“You’re telling me.”
She kissed him the second time, taking his mouth with hers. Her fingers clawed under his T-shirt, then yanked it up over his head. She held back a soft moan when she finally saw him bared.
He looked every bit as good as she’d thought he would. The thick, heavy curves of his pecs were dusted with a whorl of golden-brown hair. His tightly sprung abs weren’t just a six-pack but a freaking eight -pack. She wanted to bite her way down his body and scrape her nails over the rows of tiny ligaments that bound his ribs to his stomach.
With her hands at his shoulders, she pushed him onto the mattress until he stretched out sideways across the wide space. He let her, leashing all that latent strength.
She crawled onto the bed, over him, kissing him the whole time. Her knee grazed over the thick bulge of his cock, all wrapped up in his jeans. She paused, then deliberately did it again. A little hint of danger. She absorbed his full-body shudder.
Even through the thick denim, he was huge. His cock seemed bigger than she remembered, but maybe that was his excitement. He was masculine enough to club things, all full-on Neanderthal, but he didn’t. He was holding back, obviously reining himself in. Waiting on her. Waiting on her commands.
Her thoughts hit her so strongly that she needed to press flat against him, edging her knees out to straddle him. She laced her fingers through the bands of the leather cuffs and pinned him down with his wrists by his head.
She took another kiss, even rougher this time, trying to steel herself for what she might do next. Nothing prevented the wild-fire heat that roared up once she fitted her pussy over his cock and rocked. Twice. God, that felt so damn good, like she could come from the pressure alone.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to pull back. Her tongue slicked over her bottom lip, drawing in his taste—sweetness from the sodas, plus a salty bite that was only him.
“Michael,” she purred, intentionally grazing her nipples over his bare chest. “You do realize I’m going to do very bad things to you?”
Chapter Eight
Mike had lost the rhythm of his own breath. It pressed out of his lungs in fits and hot gulps. Every inhalation brushed his naked skin against Leah’s lush breasts. He wiggled his fingers, which tingled almost to the point of numbness.
“Yes,” he rasped. “I realize that.”
She was going to do bad things to him, and thank Christ for it. The razor blade of the last few moments had dulled, replaced by a different sort of danger. No more worry about whether he’d misjudged her—only a calm hunger as his arousal spiked.
Relief came first. Then anticipation. His pleasure was another person’s domain now. That simple release held an appeal he’d never been able to explain. From it he found the most satisfaction.
“You’re shaking,” she whispered, her voice somewhat awed.
“I am.”
“Is it me or the getup?”
“Both.”
She leaned in close and licked him from the notch at the base of his throat up to his chin. His
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