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She already felt bound, and he hadn’t lifted a finger. Only his chest rose and fell, betraying the extent of his desire. And his cock pressed against his trousers, a silent sentinel of his needs. Her needs.
Time to test the boundaries of both.
“Wanna tie me up?” She arched onto her toes, savoring every sharp hiss of breath he released. “Now’s your chance. Going once…going twice…”
Chapter Nine
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Cory grated.
Victoria’s golden hair tumbled across one eye, making her look like an ingenue. And her body… God, it was a work of art. Honed like her agile mind. She never stopped pushing herself to the limits.
Now she was pushing him.
“So teach me.” Vicky drew her toes up the inside of her opposite leg, looking more like a ballet dancer than an interior designer. “You accused me of being afraid before. Yet you’re the one not moving. Who’s scared now?”
She asked it almost lazily, but her eyes stayed steady on his. Measuring. Gauging. Looking for the chip in his armor that would allow her to burrow so deep inside him he’d never get her out again.
He moved quickly, striding forward and gripping her throat. She startled at that, her pupils going wide as he scraped his fingers along her chilly, vulnerable skin. As pale as snow, as soft as a dream. He bent to sip from her lips, drawing gently while his thumb circled her fluttering pulse.
Her gaze never left his as he cupped her cheek and traced the fringe of her eyelashes, the slope of her nose, the line of her jaw. “Grip the pole above your head.”
When she’d done as he asked, he took her mouth again, his lips scarcely whispering over hers. Her breath puffed out in frosty wisps as he trailed kisses down her chin and throat, exploring every nuance of her skin. The lantern light played over her curves, giving them a rosy glow. She looked like a living wet dream and he intended to take his time exploring her from head to toe.
Deliberately, he didn’t speak. This wasn’t about words, and she didn’t seem to need them. With a flick of his fingers, he opened her bra. She watched him as he mapped her body ruthlessly, with the patience of a landscape artist who could spend hours on one section of sky. Each freckle intrigued him. Each muscle that bunched under his seeking mouth earned special attention.
He nuzzled the dip between her neck and shoulder, slipped his tongue under the silver starfish necklace that skimmed her collarbone. She remained absolutely still, her excitement beating against his lips whenever he licked her tripping pulse.
She was tight all over, but especially the vibrant pink tips of her breasts and the knot of nerves between her thighs. His thumb stroked her there, hard and fast, while he lapped at her nipple as delicately as if she were made of glass. When she relaxed, he nipped her flesh and plunged two fingers deep.
Her first shocked gasp echoed in the drafty barn. Soon there were so many that he rose to capture her moans with his mouth while he stroked in and out of her wet sex. He drove her right up to the edge, savoring her moans and quivers, then he slipped his fingers free. She stared as he freed his cock and slicked his length in her arousal. Her fingers twitched on the pole as he moved his hand up and down, coating his flesh. Soaking himself with her.
The sight seemed to hold her transfixed, and she didn’t look away when he hauled her legs around his waist. “Watch me,” he murmured.
She could only nod.
From her reactions he guessed what she needed and he gave it to her, penetrating her in one sure thrust. Her lips parted though she made no sound. He exhaled as her snug, drenched sheath enveloped his dick again and again, the scrape of her nails against the wood a strangely exciting accompaniment. Her nails could’ve been on his shoulders, on his back, for all the effect that noise had on his body. He drove into her harder, faster, wanting to hear her torturing the wood, that unconscious tell more revealing than her glazed whiskey-colored eyes.
There, she still held some control. But with her hands, with the ripples of her sex around him, she restrained nothing.
That was what he wanted. Her, totally mindless. Unafraid. His.
He drew her up until her back bowed and a broken cry ripped from her throat. His balls tightened and his own heart went into triple time. He ached for her to let go of her restraint, to know he was the only man who could take her there.
His thumb found her clit again and he sank his teeth into the top of her breast as she clenched and gave way, her shudders and moans more arousing to him than anything he’d ever experienced. She was so strong, so tough, and she yielded to him so beautifully. Words nearly left him, the kind he’d never let himself feel, never mind say.
He sucked on her skin and jerked her up and down his cock, exploiting his pleasure and prolonging hers. She cried out again, whipping her head back and forth. And in the wildness in her eyes, he saw his own. He saw himself and the fight he’d been waging for so long. He couldn’t fight anymore.
His hips bucked and he spilled himself inside her, heaving and surging into her until he was dry and she was shaking against him. Around him. Until they were both shuddering and gasping.
Here, they were distilled to the essence of who they were and what they needed from each other. She’d trusted him that much. He couldn’t breathe through the wonder of what that meant.
When she slumped in his arms, he tucked his face in her mass of fragrant curls. She smelled like the early fall night, fresh and pure.
Her laughter rumbled through her chest. “No one’s ever called me that before.”
He lifted his head, shocked he’d spoken. “Did I really just say the word ‘pure’ out loud?”
With a few blinks, her smoky eyes were clear again and full of amusement. “Yes, you really did.”
