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She was off the bed and back on it in a matter of seconds, nylon-coated cables in hand and a huge-ass grin on her flushed face. Wrapping one of the cables around his left wrist and the bedpost several times, she hooked the ends together, then scrambled back over his body to secure his other arm.
“There,” she mumbled to herself as she checked the bindings on his right wrist, “now there won’t be any grabby-hand surprises.”
Grabby-hand surprises?
“Hold up! You want to explain that one to me?”
“No.” Looking annoyed with herself for making the comment, she sighed. “It was just that stupid thing with…” She side-eyed the patio doors as though lost in a memory. One she clearly did not like.
His brows drew in. “With who?” he prompted.
Gaze returning to him, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does.”
She climbed back on top of him, rocking against his cock in a way that was highly distracting. “You said it’s just us right now. Just you and me. So I’m not gonna talk about that stupid thing with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
She had a point. And her pissy domme-girl expression was scrambling his senses. “Fine, but we’re gonna talk about this grabby Voldemort motherfucker late—”
“Shhhhh.”The woman further scrambled his senses by laying down on his chest, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, and drawing in a huge breath. Then she kissed the side of his throat.
Mind and body quieted at the first press of her lips. They were cool against his overheated skin, satiny-soft, and just a little moist from all her gnawing at them.
Luke wanted those lips. Andy knew it too. As she lifted out of the crook, trailing kisses up his jaw, he turned towards them hungrily. She backed off with a smirk and shook her head.
“Mean-ass bird.”
Grinning, she kissed one whiskery cheek, then the other. Then she pecked his nose, his forehead, his frigging eyebrows. Which were drawing down again.
He growled.
She giggled.
Her lips found his temple, and the kiss-fest paused as Andy studied the tattoo there. The small swirling sun covered a half-inch scar he’d earned the night his father died. A symbol of light to cover up a memory of darkness. Andy’s fingers found the jagged patch of flesh beneath it. “How did you—”
“Uh-uh,” he said, not wanting to revisit the past any more than she did. “Just us, remember?”
Nodding her understanding, she lowered her lips once more, this time pressing them tenderly to the graphic just below his hairline.
The next kiss wasn’t so tender. Shimmying down his body, she found his chest again and landed another biting one on his other pec. Right near his erect nipple, which was practically begging for her teeth.
Andy did not disappoint. She smiled even as those wicked whites slowly clamped down.
Jesus, that hurt.
But in a shockingly good way.
Luke had never paid much attention to this area of his anatomy during sex. His partners’ nipples had always been much more fun to play with. But damn if hisstudentwasn’t teaching him a thing or two right now.
“Do the other one,” he rasped.
She did, sucking it between her lips, biting down, tonguing the hurt, and making his dick throb.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned, head rocking back on a laugh before he angled it back her way. “FYI, I hear turnabout’s fair play.”
Snorting softly, she dipped down further on his torso. Her beaded, tank-covered nipples raked down his abs before her tongue found the grooves there. Each and every striation of muscle felt the wet heat of her mouth before she finally arrived at the heavy, aching one between his thighs.
There she paused again to glance up at him. “I’ve never seen one close up before.”
