Page 116 of Gamebreaker

"Hands," I said.

She held them up for me.

I wrapped the leather around her wrists twice, firmer than last night, and checked it with two fingers. Then I looped the tail around the slats of the headboard and cinched it, and her arms were stretched above her head, her wrists bound together, and she was laid out under me in the gray light with nowhere to go.

"Pull," I said.

She tugged. The belt held. Her breath shuddered out.

"That's yours to fight if you want," I said. "It won't give. I will, if you tap."

"I'm not going to tap."

"We'll see."

I kissed her. I took my time with it, slow and deep, until she was arching up into me, trying to get closer, and the belt stopped her. She made a frustrated sound into my mouth that I wanted to bottle and keep. I moved to her neck, finding the bite under her ear. I pressed my tongue to it until she hissed, and I found the one at her collarbone and bit again, right on top of it, until her whole body bowed.

"Cam."

"Quiet."

I kissed down her chest. Took one nipple between my teeth and pulled, slow, until she cried out, then let go and soothed it. Did the same on the other side. By the time I got to her stomach, she was trembling and I hadn't even touched her where she wanted me.

My hand slid down her body, between her legs, and she was already wet. Soaked.

"Always so ready for me," I murmured against her hip.

"Can't help it. You make me..." Her words broke off on a gasp when I drove my fingers inside her.

"Make you what?"

"Desperate. You make me desperate for you."

"Good." I started moving my fingers slowly, building her up. "That's exactly how I want you."

I came back up her body so I could watch her face, my fingers still inside her, and slid my other hand around her throat.

She went completely still under me. Her eyes locked on mine.

"Breathe," I said, running my thumb over her neck.

She shivered under my hand, and her hips jerked against my fingers.

"Okay?"

"Yes. Yes. More.”

"Ask me properly."

"Please, Cam. More. Please."

I did it again. And again. Each time, I held her a little closer to the edge, my fingers working inside her in a steady rhythm while my hand on her throat held her possessively, and every time I ran my thumb over her neck, she gasped, wetter and closer, her thighs shaking, her bound hands clenched into fists against the headboard.

Every time she got close, I stopped.

I pulled my fingers back, rested my palm flat on her lower stomach, and waited while she cursed me. Then I started again.

"You're doing so well," I told her. "Look at you. You're taking all of it."