Free Carter's Cuffs by Lacey Alexander Page A

were stronger than they looked and held tight. Damn.
    She shut her eyes in defeat, then opened them to see Carter peering down at her.
    “Don’t worry, honey—this won’t hurt. At least not much.”
    Once more, she sucked in her breath, shocked to discover Carter could be so cold. Well, not cold. Hot as hell, actually—hot and take-charge. But calculating and tough.
    She had to get out of here somehow. Not because she was frightened of him, but because she was still deeply frightened for her heart if she got any closer to this man. “Carter,” she said, sounding breathless even to her own ears. “You have to let me go. I can’t… I just can’t…”
    “Sure you can, baby,” he said, his voice almost teasing and soothing this time, but still possessing an underlying air of domination.
    And as he ran his big hands slowly, achingly, up her hips, over her waist, the sides of her breasts, she yanked at the cuffs again, an instinct, and thought of screaming. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny the pleasure echoing through every single inch of her body. She couldn’t deny that her breasts were heaving and her pussy had filled with heat. And she also couldn’t deny that he wasn’t doing anything to her that she hadn’t already done to him, and that—Lord help her—her body craved more.
    Carter had never planned to be so rough with her. But maybe deep down he’d known a little roughness would be required to get her where he wanted her, and maybe he thought fair was fair. The part he supposed he hadn’t expected was the way he felt right now. Like an animal. A heat-seeking, hungry beast.
    He’d been plenty attracted to her before their Caesars Palace encounter, but seeing her now forced him to also see her, in his mind, as she’d been then. He couldn’t not remember the way she’d ridden him, that sweet, tight pussy working his cock, or the way her beautiful breasts had spilled from her bra with those pink pointed nipples before she’d caressed them in her small, pretty hands. And he discovered that he felt now much like he had then. Lust-filled—and angry.
    And since she refused to give him the one thing he’d ask of her—a real, honest explanation—his body was more than ready to move on to what they already knew worked between them. Sex. And he wasn’t inclined to be gentle.
    So he didn’t stop himself from closing his hands firmly over her breasts through her dress. And her hot moan shot straight to his dick, telling him what he’d already sensed—she could act like this offended her, but she wanted it just as badly as he did.
    Kneading her breasts—pushing, squeezing, molding—he gave her another hard, punishing kiss that he hoped she felt all the way to her cunt. Then, too heated up to even think of going slow, he curled the fingers of both hands into the draped black bodice of her dress and pulled downward, easily able to catch the fabric under the shelf her large breasts created. A skimpy black bra with thin shoulder straps resided underneath, her lush cleavage looking ready to burst from it, so he helped it along, yanking down the cups of the bra, as well.
    Her hot gasp fueled him, as did the way she looked, cuffed to the fence on both sides, at his mercy. He’d never been into bondage, but maybe this was a fetish waiting to happen, because she looked too delectable this way—chained, her voluptuous breasts bared.
    He dove on them, unable not to. Letting both hands close back around the abundant curves, he feasted, sinking his mouth firmly to one hard pink peak. She sobbed softly, the sound wafting through him like sweet music as he suckled her hard.
    “Oh God,” she moaned. “ Oh God .”
    He molded and sucked harder. Then moved his ministrations to her other breast, latching on just as tightly, savoring how amazingly rock-hard her nipples had grown for him, like pearls between his lips.
    Freeing one hand, he reached down, under her dress, easing his fingers directly between her