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I opened my unfocused eyes and looked at him in confusion. “What?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up, one hand briefly leaving my wrist to stroke my cheek. “A scarf? Do you have one?”
“Uh, yeah, there’s some in my top drawer.”
“Stay here,” he commanded in an insistent tone that had me lying still and watching him with avid curiosity.
He hopped up and quickly found the scarves in my drawer. He pulled one out a blue one at random and returned to where I was waiting.
“Put your hands up over your head.”
My arms responded to his demand before my brain could form a question. He quickly grabbed my hands and tied the scarf around them, checking them frequently to make sure the fabric wasn’t too loose, but not so tight as to compromise my circulation. He then wrapped the residual fabric around the metal frame of my bed.
“You’re tying me up?” I asked stupidly because it was quite obvious that was what he was doing.
“Yes.”
I wasn’t panicking because I trusted Ivan, but I was burning with curiosity. Why did he need me restrained? What was he afraid of? Or did it just turn him on? Did he do this with everyone or just me?
I couldn’t help asking again. “Why do—?”
He was on me before another word left my mouth, overwhelming me with potent kisses and now roving hands. I knew we were going to have to address this issue at some point, but I became quickly distracted when he unfastened the buttons on the collar of my halter top and pulled it down, exposing me to the waist.
My hands instinctively jerked to cover myself, but I was held by the surprisingly strong fabric around my wrists. Even though he had touched me there earlier, having my hands tied and my shirt removed made me feel exposed, vulnerable.
I didn’t have a huge chest—probably about a B cup. He’d certainly expressed no complaints earlier, but I was still a little self-conscious.
As if sensing my discomfort, Ivan ran his tattooed fingers from my collar bone down to my right breast, swiping one rough thumb across the tip and landing his mouth on the other, giving it a rough suck.
“Fucking beautiful,” he breathed against my skin. I didn’t think he was even talking to me, which made it all the more flattering.
Soon, his mouth was moving all over my torso, rubbing his rough cheeks against my soft, overstimulated skin and kissing his way down my stomach to the button of my jeans. He quickly unfastened and stripped my pants off, his mouth still buried in my stomach.
I looked down at myself laid out in nothing but a pair of white panties with a small pink bow on the front. Instead of just pulling them off, Ivan ran his tongue along the top of the waistband, periodically skating over to my hip bone to bite and lick and kiss.
While his mouth tortured me, his hands slid up to my breasts to rub, pull, and lightly pinch my nipples causing my back to arch and my wrists to jerk against the cloth once again.
The dual sensations had me squirming in frustration. “Oh my god…Ivan, please.”
He lifted his mouth and shot me an unexpectedly mischievous look, his hands still playing with my breasts. “Please what?” he asked, his voice gritty and dark.
“Please keep going,” I begged, thrusting my hips up, the skin of my lower belly bumping into his chin.
He tipped his head down and swirled his tongue in my belly button, causing me to choke out an unexpected laugh at the tickling sensation.
Before I could chastise him for it, he pulled the waistband of my panties down to the lowest spot before the shorn tuft of my pubic hair started. Instead of pulling my panties completely off, he kissed and sucked on that spot just above my pubic hair. Was he giving me a hickey?
“What are you doing?” I said, gasping at the sensation of his sucking kiss on such sensitive skin.
“Planting my flag,” he murmured, almost thoughtlessly.
I snorted. “I don’t think anyone is going to see it there.”
“They better not,” he grunted, then reached up to bracket one hand lightly, but possessively, around my throat. “Maybe I wanted to remind you. Especially when you have dickheads like Kevin hitting on you or douchebags like Drew laying on your bed.”
He leaned back and appeared to be admiring the mark he’d made, removing his hand from my throat to rub his thumb against it as I looked down at him in shock. Was he actually that jealous?
It seemed incomprehensible, unimaginable, that someone as emotionally detached as Ivan would care, let alone get territorial, because another guy sat on my bed.
