Page 4 of Unbound
Parting my lips, I nipped at his fingers, and I wasn’t gentle. He hissed, tapping my mouth in warning, and I did it again.
He lowered his head slowly, giving me time to refuse, but I welcomed his kiss.
His lips brushed mine softly, but there was still nothing gentle about it. The intensity between us rose instantly, and I tried to lift my arms, to thread my hands through his hair or to run them over the defined muscles of his back and hips, but I was still pinned in place.
He chuckled darkly against my mouth, pulling back to look into my eyes. I don’t know what he saw there—anger, empathy, frustration—but he seemed to know just what I wanted right now.
I gasped when he pressed his full body against me. He was semi-hard, his growing erection heavy against my hip, and I rocked against it, triumphant when he lengthened and thickened under my touch.
Still he didn’t speak, and he didn’t untie me, either. Fisting his hand in the front of my damaged dress, he tugged once, hard. The knot I’d tied in the torn straps unraveled with ease, the thin fabric sliding instantly to the floor.
Hips flush with mine, he leaned his chest back, staring his fill at my naked breasts, the peaks so hard they hurt.
“Still mad?” His tone held no trace of mockery; he was asking because he wanted to know. As he spoke, he slowly stroked his hands to my breasts. His touch teasing, he pulled lightly at my nipples, sending rushes of liquid heat to my center.
“Furious.” I gasped when he increased the pressure to short, hard drags of his rough fingers on the most sensitive part of my breasts, and I rocked against the restraint, trying to push myself into his touch.
“Guess I shouldn’t let you go yet, then,” he said, arching an eyebrow as he assessed my reaction. He was probably searching for signs that I wanted out, that I wasn’t okay with this level of kink.
Instead, my pulse picked up speed, thundering through my veins, suffusing my skin with heat.
Sex while I was bound? At his mercy?
It wasn’t something I’d ever fantasized about before, but wetness slicked the space between my legs, crying yes, please.
“Probably not a good idea,” I agreed, still wiggling against my restraints. His hands cupped my breasts, squeezed, and I pushed into him, wanting more.
“I like you this way,” he taunted, pulling back and yanking his shirt over his head. I’d seen that chest earlier, had run my fingers over the hard planes of muscle, but it still took my breath away. The man was hard, hard everywhere, and I wanted to run my tongue everywhere that my stare landed. “Difficult to be so stubborn when you have to do what I want you to, isn’t it?”
“Do your worst.” I deliberately made my tone mocking, savoring the resultant rush when his eyes darkened. “I won’t break.”
“Maybe I should gag you as well as tie you up.” With sure fingers, he undid the button of his jeans and then the zipper. This time, rather than just pushing them down around his hips, he slid them all the way off, kicking out once they’d pooled at his feet.
I drank my fill of the view. He was hard, he was big, and those descriptors applied to every part of his body. Wide shoulders framed action-hero arms, and rope after rope of abdominal muscle led to lean hips and a tight ass. His thighs were huge, the muscles flexing as he moved, and nestled in between was the cock that I already knew fit so tightly inside of me.
I was wet. I wanted it inside of me again.
Running his tongue over his front teeth, he fisted a hand around his shaft and started to pump. I moaned as I watched the head swell, a drop of his excitement glistening on the tip.
“I could come just like this, you know.” I watched, transfixed, as his fist swallowed his length again and again. “Staring at you there, naked and bound by my belt. Helpless to do anything but take what I give you.”
“Do it,” I urged, not sure where the sass was coming from. “I’d love to see you come all over yourself like a teenager who just saw his first pair of boobs.”
“Liar.” Grinning, he loosened his hold on himself, and I barely held back a moan of disappointment. Crossing to a duffel bag that had been tossed onto the bed, he dug in a side pocket until he pulled out a condom. “You don’t want me to come until I’m so far inside of you that you’re going to feel me tomorrow.”
“Lots of talk, but not much action.” I couldn’t help but pull at my restraints, even though the last thing I wanted was to get free. “Maybe you should free my hands so I can do the job myself.”
“Sorry, babe, but that’s not what’s on the table.” I watched greedily as he tore into the foil packet and removed the ring of latex. With sure fingers, he pinched the tip then rolled it down his engorged shaft.
That done, he returned to me. “You didn’t like what I told you to do earlier. Let’s see if you like it better now.”
Pressing his lean hardness against me, he rolled his body, all the angles and planes that made him a man stroking and teasing over the softness that made me a woman. I shook my head, the plaster of the pole catching at the strands of my hair and tugging, the slight sting just serving to heighten my arousal.
“I think you do like it,” he said, taking his cock in hand again and notching it between my legs. “Want to know how I can tell?”
I couldn’t answer; my attention was focused on the hardness sliding between my thighs. I pressed them together, his length stroking through my folds, back and forth, teasing me and driving me higher.
It wasn’t enough.
