Page 123 of Stolen By the Billionaire
Being fed tidbits from his fingers insulted her pride, but the steak was good and well-cooked.
His fingers in her mouth reminded her of what she’d just done.
Then she was squirming while she sat at his feet, wondering just how long he was going to keep up this charade while her body seemed to hunger for more. She sucked the juice and butter off his fingers, which made him growl.
Oh, that was fun.
He turned with a dollop of chocolate mousse on two fingers. “Open.”
She did, and he pressed his fingers into her mouth, holding the back of her head and taking her mouth with his fingers, back and forth, establishing that he was the one who shoved whatever he wanted into her mouth, not that she had been licking him for a reaction.
And okay, missing the hotel’s chocolate mousse would have been a punishment. She saw that now.
Finally, he wiped her chin with the hotel’s smooth fabric napkin, which made her feel like a toddler but kind of a cherished one. Her parents may or may not have wiped her face any more than was absolutely necessary, as they were hardworking farmers and didn’t have time to coddle the livestock.
A breath of air shot into her lungs.
Because that’s what she’d felt like on the farm: just another commodity, an asset of the farm operation. She might as well have been a hired field laborer.
Or livestock.
Blaze turned and braced his elbows on his knees to look down at her. “Now, kitten, where were we?”
Sarah couldn’t look away from his icy blue eyes. “I think there were ropes involved.”
“Why, yes. Now, I remember.”
And he did that football-tackle thing where he scooped her up with his shoulder and tossed her so that her head dangled down his back and strode for the bedroom. “Hey!”
This time, the slap on her bare butt was a sharp smack that stung her skin.
“Ouch!”
“No talking, kitten. No sounds. No moaning or crying while I have my way with you.”
With a heave of his shoulder, Sarah landed on her back on the bed and bounced. So much excitement was shivering under her skin that she wanted to jump on the bed. “And your way is?”
In a blink, he had those ropes in his hand again, and he shoved her arms above her head and wound it around her wrists. When Sarah craned her neck to see, a loop protruded from the side of her arm like half a bow.
Blaze unbuttoned three buttons near the collar of his dress shirt and stripped it and his undershirt off over his head, baring himself to his waist.
Indigo tattooed lines spiderwebbed his broad shoulders, the rounds of his chest, his tight ribs and waist, and the biceps and triceps of his arms like a blue-black net draped over his skin.
White gauze wrapped his left upper arm, thicker on the back, and plum and maroon bruises stained the skin over his ribs.
“Your safeword?” he demanded as he folded her knee, spread her legs, and tied her ankle to the outside of her thigh, indenting her soft flesh with a scarlet and gold-threaded rope.
“Red,” she gasped as he held himself above her, sucking her breasts with a pull that drew all the thoughts from her head and rushed passion through her body, one then the other, before he opened his hot mouth wide and circled his tongue over the peak.
The pleasure was already circling in her body, a whirlwind that tossed her and vortex drowning her at the same time as he moved down, his mouth a trail of heat and humidity on her stomach, and then he folded and bound her other leg to spread her open, helpless, for his mouth.
The first warm, wet lick of the broad of his tongue over her folds billowed ecstasy through her body to the crown of her head and up her arms to her tied hands, and her back bowed under the onslaught.
The second, deeper caress forced her hands to twist in the rope, and she clutched the pillow as her body stretched and tightened.
As he settled in, his mouth sealing to her sex and his tongue invading her, bursts of dizzying sensation buffeted her, and her legs strained in the ropes that bound her open and vulnerable to him. “Stop!”
His mouth retreated from his deep exploration to feathery touches that held her on the precipice. “That isn’t your safeword.”
