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Heat flares in his eyes when they find me, and his tongue flicks out across his lips, wetting them. His gaze crawls over me, taking in the obvious curve of my chest thanks to the push-up bra of my camisole. It slides over where the material parts at my stomach, leaving my skin bare, and hovers at my lace panties.
I run the scarf through my fingers, keeping my eyes on him, as his eyes glance down my legs and finish their perusal of my body. “You said wear the pink camisole. You never said anything about wearing clothes.”
“You’re correct,” he says huskily, setting the wine down and walking toward me. “And you brought a scarf.”
“What can I say? I’m good at following orders.”
“Mmm.” He takes my jaw between his thumb and forefingers and tilts my head up. His eyes are dark, seductive. “I like the sound of that.”
His hand falls away, and I loop the scarf around his neck. “Most of the time, anyway,” I whisper, pulling his face down to mine.
His lips are hot, and it takes him just seconds to take the kiss from a gentle brush to a thorough exploration with his tongue. Each stroke of his tongue against mine ignites a fire deep in my belly that spreads outwards to every one of my limbs.
Without breaking the kiss, Tyler takes the scarf from me and wraps it around my back. He runs it down my body, sliding across my back and over my butt. When it skims the top of my thighs, he pulls my hips toward him with a jerk. His erection pushes into my stomach, hard and ready, and I drop my hand to cup him over his jeans.
I squeeze him lightly and he groans into my mouth, pushing his hips into my hand. Quick as a flash, he grabs my hands and takes them away from his body, spinning me around.
“You appear to have a problem with remembering who’s in control,” he breathes into my ear, sucking lightly on the tender spot below it. “Do you need reminding again so soon?”
“No. I’m not one of your bitches, remember?”
He palms one of my butt cheeks and squeezes. Hard. I clench my jaw together.
“I told you, Liv. You’re my only bitch now.” There’s a rumble of laughter in his husky tone. “You’re so feisty. It’s my favorite thing about you.”
He releases my ass and takes both of my hands, setting them at the base of my back. I hold my breath when the scarf brushes against my wrists. Leisurely, like he has all the time in the world, he wraps the soft material around my wrists in a figure eight and knots it tightly.
My hands are bound, and I’m amazed how something so simple is leaving me vulnerable and open to him. But I’m not afraid—far from it.
I’m exhilarated. Excited.
“There.” He pushes my hair to one side and presses a kiss to the back of my neck. “That should remind you who’s in charge here.”
“I still have a mouth,” I whisper.
“And it will be put to very, very, very good use.” He walks in front of me and traces my bottom lip with his thumb, his eyes on my mouth. “When I say so.”
I part my lips and take his thumb into my mouth. I suck lightly and graze my teeth along the pad, watching as his pupils dilate. Yes, I can play the game, too.
He pulls his hand from my mouth, running his fingers down my neck. The tips of them ghost across my chest, barely touching me, and slide down my stomach, dipping at my navel. He pauses when they skim the top of my panties. His lips curve as he moves his hand lower and brushes my clit.
I stay standing despite the jolt of pleasure that sears through me. My pussy aches with wanting him to go lower, beneath the lace, to touch me properly.
But he doesn’t—he pulls his hand away and stands behind me again. He hooks two fingers through the scarf binding my wrist and pulls me backward. His body never touches me, only his fingers. I twist my head to see where we’re going, but he stops me.
“Look forward.”
I swallow. My body is alive—so alive—and I’m trembling with anticipation. He shuts a door and spins me around. My eyes fall on a king bed in the middle of the room, the dark sheets contrasting the lightness of the rest of the room.
I study the rest of the room, feeling Tyler’s hot breath cascading down my neck the whole time. He steps forward, pressing his front against my back. His erection rubs against my hands, but the way he’s tied them means I can’t touch him, no matter how much I want to.
And I do. I want to.
He skims his hands down my sides to my hips. With a firm grasp on them, he brushes his nose against the inside of my thigh, prompting me to open my legs slightly. I can feel his breath on one thigh, his cheek on the other, and the nudge of his nose by my panties.
“You’re so wet already. I can smell you. I can see it. There’s a little damp patch on these panties.” He pulls them down my legs and guides my feet out of them.
After taking back the same position, he urges me to open my legs wider. I do, thankful for his grip to balance me. My legs are trembling so hard that I don’t think I could take a step without stumbling.
