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Finally, “Yes,” she whispered.
Dex’s heart fell. No longer his, he kissed it goodbye, even knowing there was little to no chance she’d give hers in return. It didn’t matter, he realized. He’d loved her since they were kids. And now he could show her how much.
Without urging from him, she raised her hand and, finding his, laid it in the leather strap. Dex’s breath shuddered, his body tightened.
“Will you stand up?” he asked.
“You’re just full of demands, aren’t you?” She gave a helpless laugh, the movement making her breasts brush deliciously against his chest. Unable to help himself, Dex slid down and took one nipple into his mouth, suckling the round peak.
Zoe’s free hand tunneled through his hair, holding his head there as she arched her back to press her breast deeper into his mouth. He scraped his teeth over the turgid tip, making her gasp, then moan her delight.
He worked her breast, reveling in her delicious response. Finally, he needed more.
“I need you to get up,” he murmured, before his tongue traced more tight circles around her areola.
“Isn’t that my line?”
“Sweetheart, around you I’m always up,” he parried, pressing her free hand to his hard dick in proof.
“Mmm, nice,” she complimented him with a squeeze of approval.
He grinned, then shifted, sliding off the side of the bed and standing with his hand still meshed with hers. Her fingers clenched his before she let go. Then he heard her shift over the bedcover and the soft thud of her bare feet on the carpet and the brush of her bare, silky skin against his body as she joined him.
“No spanking,” she told him with a breathless laugh.
Dex grinned. Then he turned her around, so she faced the post, and wrapped the other restraint around her free wrist. He slid her wrists, bound by the leather, up to the notch just below the large knob on the bedpost, anchoring them there, just above shoulder height.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Mmm,” she murmured. He could tell that she wasn’t sure, but was willing to give him a chance.
That’s all he needed.
Ever since she was sixteen and had got the angel wings tattoo between her shoulder blades, he’d fantasized about this. He couldn’t see the tattoo in the dark, but his mind could trace it perfectly.
First he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, right where it curved into her shoulder. Then Dex dropped to his knees behind her, running his hands down the smooth, satin skin of her thighs. He shifted her just a little, so her legs were spread wide.
He kissed the vulnerable, tender skin behind her knees, then worked his way up her inner thighs. He could feel her tremble, her legs shaking as he pressed his finger between her thighs and traced her swollen, damp lips.
He pinched her clit, making her shudder and gasp. Then he slid one finger into her, swirling it in time to the subtle shifting of her hips.
Her scent washed over him, engulfing him. Dex had never wanted anything, anyone, the way he wanted Zoe.
He pressed an openmouthed kiss to the small of her back, slowly rising, kissing his way up her spine until he reached the spot that he knew was covered by the angel’s wings. His hand worked her; the other reached around to test the weight of her breast, heavier because she was bending slightly. He cupped, squeezed. She murmured her approval.
Then she tried to kill him by pressing her hips against his straining dick. Dex groaned, releasing her briefly to grab a condom off the table and sheath himself. He reached around, using both hands to play her nipples to a fever pitch, using her breathing as his cue.
When her pants turned to gasps, he made his move.
First he pressed just the tip of his dick in, then slid it out. Teased her clit. Pressed it in again.
She moaned, her hips moving in supplication.
“Now,” she groaned.
“Not yet,” he said, his eyes closed as he teased her again. He could feel the orgasm building inside himself. The image of how they must look filled his mind. He visualized himself standing behind her, her arms strapped to the post and that delicate tattoo clearly outlined on her gorgeous back. In his mind’s eye, he saw the curve of her spine, the sweet swell of her buttocks. And his body, poised over her as she begged him.
“Please,” she murmured.
That soft word, the breathy tone, broke Dex’s control. With a guttural groan, he thrust into her wet, slick flesh. He set a slow, measured pace, building, amping up the sensations. In spite of the blackness of the room, he closed his eyes, letting the feelings take him higher.
Zoe met his thrusts with her own, encouraging him to go deeper, harder.
The pace intensified. In, out. Faster.
He was so close.
One hand was still working her nipples, tweaking and twisting the swollen flesh; the other trailed down between her legs to work her damp clitoris.
