Wicked Game by Scarlett Sanderson Page A

inhaled. He could smell her musk. Her thighs must be soaked. Her pussy would be so slick, perfect for sliding his dick inside. Her cunt would squeeze him, draw him in and he would fuck her until she begged him to stop.
    But they were in a public place and he didn’t want to push her too far too quickly. The only thing he could do was place soft kisses on her hair. He rubbed slow circles on her back, waiting for her orgasm to subside.
    Pride swelled in his chest. She was so responsive. So inherently sexual. And she was his. It was time to show her how much she meant to him.

Chapter Eight
     
    She’d had a long few days at work. All Ruth wanted was a hot bath and a glass of wine. She’d seen Dominic almost every night since the bar. He’d made her come numerous time but as of yet, he hadn’t allowed her to touch him. She was beginning to get some kind of complex.
    Walking up her stoop steps, she fumbled with her keys.
    An arm banded around her waist. A hand covered her mouth. She was dragged back against a rock-hard wall of muscle.
    Fear welled. Panic bubbled. Her nipples beaded and her cunt throbbed. She struggled, turning left and right without success. A muffled scream escaped.
    “Stop struggling, Ruth.”
    She knew that deep, masculine voice rasping against her ear. Dominic?
    He continued, his lips pressed close to her skin, “I’m not going to hurt you but if you struggle, I’ll have to punish you.” He licked the shell of her ear.
    Fear and need collided. A frisson of lust shot down her spine, pooled in her stomach and pulsed in her pussy. Her body sparked to life, ripened.
    Her mind screamed one word. Yes.
    This is what she’d craved for months.
    Excitement. Desire. Control. Him.
    He released her but quickly grabbed hold of her wrists, transferred them to one hand and tucked them behind her back. “No more waiting. I’m going to have you. Now.”
    “Dominic…” Her breathy whisper was futile.
    “Don’t talk.” He ran a belt under her nose. The weathered leather scent assaulted her senses, sent her hormones into overdrive. Her breasts swelled as she imagined what he was going to do with the belt. Would he bind her hands? Would he whip her?
    “You’re trembling. I can’t wait to feel you come again. I can’t wait to have you under me, coming on my cock. I’ve waited so long. You want that, don’t you, Ruth?”
    She nodded.
    “Good girl.” He wound the leather around her wrists, pulled tight and secured the straps.
    Need spiked in her belly. She whimpered. Her nipples ached and poked like hard pinpricks through her shirt. “Dom…”
    He covered her mouth again. “Be quiet. Don’t make me punish you.”
    Something soft teased the skin of her cheek.
    “Open for me. Don’t fight it.”
    She realized the fabric was a silk gag. Not wanting to disobey, she opened and allowed him to slide the cloth into her mouth and tie it behind her head.
    Her nostrils flared, her breathing hitched. She stood on her porch bound and gagged, trembling in his arms. Her pussy throbbed. Moisture seeped into the crotch of her panties. She hadn’t known she could want someone so much as she wanted Dominic.
    Her deepest, darkest fantasy had become reality. Her fantasy man was making it real. How had he known?
    His hand slid into her front pocket and she lost all rational thought. She could feel his heat through the thin barrier. He inched down, brushed the top of her mound.
    Ruth stiffened, waited for him go farther. She wanted him to make her come like he’d done in the library. She wanted his fingers tunneling inside her core, skillfully coaxing an orgasm from her.
    He teased her for a few seconds before withdrawing.
    If she hadn’t been gagged, she might have pouted.
    She never pouted. Ever.
    “No stopping tonight, Ruth. I’m going to take whatever the hell I fucking choose.” He turned her to face him and she gasped.
    Covering his face was a black latex mask. She could see his eyes and lips but nothing else.