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I chuckled. “You think too highly of me. I’m a bastard most of the time.”
Before she could retort, my finger slid beneath the material and into the warm crevice of her slit. Then I split the seam of her folds until I pushed that same finger inside her. I could feel her pussy squeeze as she tried to grasp me. I thrust my finger in and out—a slow fuck to tease her.
Her head fell back onto my shoulder. From my angle, I caught the barest glimpse of her tongue rolling across her lips.
“Now we know our starting point,” I slipped my finger from her, the air cool on my slick skin. My hand found her mouth, the finger coated in her juices pushing between her lips.
She sucked, the little tug pulling a line that went straight down to my cock and making my heart beat just that much faster.
I nudged her over to the nearest stone table. Knocking her ankles to spread her legs, I bent her over, leaning her chest onto the surface.
I took away her knife, her gun.
Thigh pressed between her legs, I fed the leather straps through the buckles and pulled the jacket tighter. Each tie earned her a little reward—a kiss on her neck, her cheek...a pinch to her sensitive inner thigh, a brush against the hollow of her knee.
Her breathing caught then released, a constant ebb and flow. Fear. And want.
Only when she was fully strapped in did I finally undo the knot to loosen the arm-sleeves. Her shoulders rolled as she savored the release, but before she could get used to the freedom, I moved around the table, catching the long sleeves and anchoring them on the hooks under the lip of the table.
There was that moment of panic—I watched for it—when no matter how much she wanted to play the game, she was confronted by the reality of her helplessness.
Satisfaction fluttered inside me.
What was a straitjacket without a bit of a mindfuck?
I strolled around the table, smoothing my fingers over the stone where she rested her cheek. Tapping them when they came within her line of sight. Still in view, I reached for her knife.Theknife.
She wrenched back, but the fabric of the jacket had so little give.
The knife buzzed against my palm, heated a little, a thrum of power that could never be mine.
BUT WE CAN USE IT.
The darkness unfurled, stretched in a way Zara couldn’t possibly imagine.
God help me, I groaned.
Following the shape of her arms in the overlong sleeves, I tapped the flat of the blade where I judged her hands to be, lightly rapping her on the knuckles.
Fight or flight, I could read the struggle, but I’d set it up so she’d keep coming back to trapped.
Eventually, her rabbit-brain found words. “You said—”
“Ssh.” I put a finger to her lips. “You don’t have to think. You just have to connect this—” I dragged the knife point down her one arm, pressing hard enough for it to prickle through the fabric. “—with this.” My free hand slid over the curve her ass and patted her pussy.
She groaned.
Her blush told me she hated that she did.
We laughed—me and the darkness.
I sank to my haunches behind her, right between her legs and tapped the hilt of the knife against my pursed lips.
Zara shifted her weight, her knee bending, and I anticipated the kick.
Pressing the knifepoint into the thin material and against her clit, I warned, “Careful. You don’t want to make any sudden moves.”
The same leg eased. Then trembled.
