Page 41 of Israel

Slowly, Ashley unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off her shoulders, exposing her lacy black bra. Israel’s breath quickened again. Then she unhooked the bra and let it drop to the floor, baring her breasts. She could feel her nipples hardening under his gaze. He walked forward and ran his palms lightly over her nipples. “So beautiful,” he murmured.

He cupped her breasts in his hands, kneading them and rolling the nipples between his fingers, his gaze intent on them. Ashley kept her hands down, just letting the sensations ripple through her body.

One of Israel’s hands left her breast and traced the freckles that dotted her chest, sliding underneath her necklace. “Kissing spots,” he murmured. He bent his head and kissed each one in turn, taking his time. Every touch of his lips ignited a tiny blaze, until she felt like her skin was on fire.

Her panties were already soaking, and he had barely touched her. He gave each of her nipples a slow kiss, and then stepped back.

“Stay there,” he said.

She obeyed, watching as he stripped off his shirt in one smooth motion, and she was finally able to drink in the sight of his bare chest. Every muscle was sharply defined, and she longed to trace the ridges and valleys and scars with her fingers and her lips.

“Can I touch you?” she asked.

He shook his head.

She bit back a moan. This was agony, doing only what he told her, and yet it was exciting too. Not thinking about what she should do or figuring out what he wanted, but just waiting to see what would happen.

Israel opened the zipper on his jeans and slid them down, along with his underwear. Ashley gasped as his cock sprang free. It was huge, and so hard it stood almost straight up. He shoved his jeans down to his ankles and stepped out of them, then stood up, watching her face.

She licked her lips, and he closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he whispered.

So was he. He was magnificent, strong and muscled and beyond ready for her. She wanted to touch him, and taste him, and feel him inside her. The excitement and tension was already building in her pussy, and they’d barely started. This was torture—amazing, exquisite torture.

Israel walked back over to her. She could smell his male musk, and it drove her wild. “Now you can touch me,” he said. She reached out and he grabbed her hands, gently. “Anywhere but my dick,” he said.

Not fair. But fine. She’d play along.

She ran her hands over his pecs and down his abs, to that perfect ‘v’ of muscle over his hips. She traced the taut ridges, and felt him shiver in reaction. His cock pulsed. She teased him by running her fingertips up and down the ‘v’, coming almost to his cock before moving away again.

A low groan emanated from his chest.

Soooo sexy. She reached for his cock, her fingers brushing it, and he shivered again, but he shook his head and stepped back. “Uh-uh.”

He had to be kidding. “I want to touch you,” she said. “I want to feel you, and then I want to feel you in me.”

He took her wrists again, holding them with one huge hand. With the other, he lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes.

“Who’s in charge?” he whispered, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

Her need and desire warred in her. She couldn’t say it.

His lips formed almost silent words. “Trust me.”

She moved in closer. “What if I can’t control myself?” She tried to tempt him with her nearness, the way she moved her body against his.

That slow, sexy smile moved across his face.

“We’ll just have to make sure you can.”

What did he mean by that? His gaze met hers, challenging her. He dropped her hands and stepped back.

“Take off your jeans and lie down on the bed,” he said. “Raise your arms over your head.”

The look in his eyes made her want to do anything he said. She wanted him to ravish her body and make her his. She slid her jeans off, slowly and enticingly, and then went over to the bed and lay down, raising her arms over her head so that her breasts pushed upward, tempting him.

Israel grabbed a scarf off the dressing table and slid it around her wrist, and then around one of the bars in the brass headboard. Oh, crap. “Israel…” she said.

“You can get out,” he said. She tested the scarf. It was true; he’d bound her so loosely she could slide her hand right out.