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Still, she fought with all her might to be released from his hold.
But her body was torn between fleeing the earth-shattering catastrophic intensity his nearness had on her or staying only so she could taste the utterly impossible but minuscule familiarity of his touch coursing through her again.
Yet because of his strength, his speed, and his litheness, she knew the futility of her actions in trying to escape him.
“Unhand me right now.” She wasn’t as calm or even toned as she wanted to be. Hysteria filled her voice. Somehow or another, her fear, the fantastical nature of her situation with an assassin, her body’s reactions—those emotions seemed concentrated between her legs to her throbbing clit.
“Not until you admit the truth.”
He scooped her up and carried her, as if she were a doll, into the main bedroom. The slit on her dress parted and revealed a good portion of her stocking-covered thighs.
“What are you doing? This is ludicrous. Put me down this minute.”
He pointedly ignored her as he carried her to the bench in the bedroom. The leather one with the cuffs on both ends of it.
“Wait—” Before she could finish what she was going to say, he had already positioned her over the bench, and before she could squirm her way off of it, he captured her wrists and encased them in the leather cuffs.
There was nothing she could have done to stop him. No number of threats or pleas would have worked.
He cuffed her ankles the same way he had her wrists.
Panic spread all over her.
She found herself impossibly trapped. On her knees. With her ass in the air. Her only saving grace was that her dress was long enough to keep her backside covered.
“Declan, untie me right now. This has gone far enough. I’m a federal agent—” And how was saying that going to help her now?
“We’re only just getting started, Peyton.” His tone had hardened, and his jaw had as well. Gone was the easy smile and the arrogance and laziness in the way he viewed things around him. Including her.
In its place, she saw a man enshrouded in dark deviance, and the fear streaming through her was transformed into a red-hot, lascivious blaze that just drenched her panties.
Dear god. She had to stop this.
Filled with panic, she yanked at the restraints on her wrists to no avail. Dammit.
“Untie me right now. Please, Declan,” she said, near to sobbing now.
“I dreamed of you begging me, kitten.” He moved into her sight and cupped her cheek. “Begging me to untie you. To beg me to stop biting and bruising your silky skin so I can eat your pussy instead. To stop spanking you because you’re dripping wet and need my thick, hard cock inside you immediately. And when you beg me to fuck you so hard that you want it to hurt. You beg so fucking prettily, already, kitten.”
She jerked her face away from his touch, the scorching burn reducing her to nothing.
“I would rather die than beg a heartless, monstrous criminal like you.” Her insult meant nothing to him, and he remained unfazed. She got more of a reaction out of him mentioning Eric Jacob’s name.
He brushed her lip with his thumb before deserting her. She tilted her head toward him, watching as he removed his jacket and his tie before he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Everything about him stirred some hidden part in her, and she had to force herself to look away from him.
But from the corner of her eye, she caught him inspecting the vase filled with crops and canes. She clenched her hands into tight fists, making her whole body rigid—anything to stop her pussy from pulsing and her nipples from tormenting her with the need to be sucked.
Who was she?
“I want to be released. Right now. Declan, release me right now. I don’t know what you think you’re going to get out of this, but it’s gone too far. You need to release me right now.”
“What I’m going to get out of this, Peyton, is you accepting that you’re mine. Only mine.”
“You’re completely mad. You’re crazy. I can’t… I can’tbelongto you… I don’t know you… And I’m not a possession; I’m a human being, and I belong to no one.”
“You belong to me,” he said so quietly and so deathly that she got chills. She was alone with a madman. A psychopath. But how she hated that she found the ripple in his jaw so utterly sexy when she denied him ownership of her. She hated that her clit vibrated with need for him and that she lacked complete control over how her body reacted to him.
What did that make her? He was an assassin, for fuck’s sake.
