I press my breasts to his chest, my mouth brushing his ear.
“You like watching, don’t you?” I whisper.
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
I slide down his body, my mouth following the trail of ink on his stomach. My hands work the belt. The zipper. I free him from the confines of his slacks. He’s already hard. Thick. Hot. I wrap one hand around him and drag my tongue slowly from base totip.
His breath hisses between his teeth.
I smile.
Then I take him in my mouth.
Slow. Deep. Wet.
He groans, the sound feral and strained. His hips buck, restrained only by his control, and that thin strip of silk.
I suck harder, letting spit drip down my chin, stroking him with both mouth and hand, until I feel his restraint begin to slip. Until he growls something in Russian that sounds like a curse and a warning.
I pull back with a wet pop.
He’s glaring now.
Still restrained.
“Untie me,” he says, voice deadly soft.
I shake my head, running my hands up his thighs. “Not yet.”
His eyes darken. “Isabella.”
I press a kiss to the head of his cock, then stand and walk backward, slowly. “Come and get me, devil.”
It takes him less than five seconds.
The tie falls to the ground like it never mattered.
He’s on me.
I barely have time to gasp before he’s behind me, one hand in my hair, the other on my throat, pulling me back against his chest.
“You think you’re in control, little brat?” he growls against my ear. “You think I’d let you have me and walk away like that?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Wrong.”
He spins me toward the bed, grabs my wrists, and drags me to the post. Leather cuffs are already hooked to the frame, always prepared. Always.
He binds my wrists above my head, buckling the straps tight.My back arches. My nipples brush the cool air.
He steps behind me, palms skimming down my sides.
“Such a fucking tease,” he mutters. “Touching me, licking me, then leaving me tied like a bitch in heat.”
He delivers the first strike—his hand against my ass—loud and brutal. I moan. My thighs clench.
“Count.”