to.”
His possessive tone should have been a turn off. The Stephen she knew wasn’t possessive
or jealous. The only emotion she’d ever been sure of when it came to him was desire.
But now? Lord help her, she liked it. She loved it. “That’s the beauty of this kind
of party. You’re free to make sure they know. To follow your instincts and show them.
I promise I won’t stop you.”
“Fuck.”
“Whatever you want, Senator.”
“Stephen,” he reminded her, his voice harsh. Commanding. “Tonight you’ve given me
the lead, and I want you to practice screaming my name. Put your hands behind your
back. I don’t want you trying to distract me again.”
He slipped the handcuffs around her wrists and she inhaled in sharp desire when they
snapped closed. They were just fun toys, silly cuffs to put newer club members at
ease or to shock people at vanilla parties. They weren’t meant for serious bondage,
and she knew she could escape them with relative ease, but at this moment she may
as well have been wrapped in chains. She’d never felt so vulnerable. So willing to
be helpless.
And she’d said she wanted to be a challenge.
Foil ripped and she knew he was rolling the condom onto his erection. She’d done it
for him so many times that her fingers twitched in memory. She loved the way his eyes
went dark and his breath stalled in his chest when her fingers pushed the latex over
his thick shaft, caressing every ridge and hard inch of him. Loved how he groaned
her name when she’d guide him inside her, straddling him or wrapping her legs around
him wherever they were and losing herself in pleasure.
He’s in control now. His room. His bed. His rules.
All she could do was feel.
He leaned over her, tangling his hands in her hair and tugging hard enough that she
arched her neck and moaned.
“Do you like that, Natasha? Am I doing it right?”
“Yes, Stephen.” God, yes. Exactly right and you know it, don’t you?
“Does it hurt?”
“I like it.”
He yanked her hair again, forcefully enough that tears sprang to her eyes. “What about
now?”
Perfect. “ Yes , Stephen. I love it.”
“Are the cuffs too tight?”
“These aren’t made to be.”
“We might have to get a better pair then.” He tugged her head back again and whispered
in her ear. “I’ve got you now. You’re mine.”
“Yes, Stephen.”
Stephen Finn was restraining her. Owning her. Claiming her. The idea of it brought
her close to climax. “What are you going to do with me now, sir?”
He let out a shaky breath, pulling back. She gasped when the head of his cock brushed
against her waiting heat. “I’m going to remind you how well we fit.”
His hand caressed her hips, her bound wrists, her spine. He let go of her hair and
pushed her underwear down to her ankles so she could step out of them, and then he
was touching her again. Everywhere. Slipping his hard shaft between her damp thighs,
mimicking the thrusts she knew were coming. “I wanted to go slow. You said this body
was mine to explore and I planned to be thorough. To study every curve…”
Tasha closed her thighs on his erection and heard his breath hiss out through his
teeth. “Next time,” she promised, tempting him to lose his patience because she’d
run out of hers as soon as he cuffed her. “We have days.”
Those words broke through his restraint. With a low sound of need he cupped her shoulder
and hip, filling her with one slow, relentless stroke.
“Natasha,” he groaned.
Stephen.
Her eyes closed and her body came alive. She tightened her muscles around his shaft
and bit down on her lip until she tasted blood, reveling in every sensation. It was
always like this with him. The instant he began to move inside her, she started to
climb. No batteries or tantric tricks needed. Just Stephen. He was inside her, a part
of her.
Only now there was more. More sensation. More need, hard as it was
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia