His eyes are on my body. I decide to mess with him even more. I sit up, letting the towel fall behind me. I don’t have a stitch on.
I see his jaw tighten. To make it a little worse on him, I dangle my legs on either side of the table. I feel crazy and brazen, but I lean back. Now it’s all right there in front of him. I wonder exactly how long he can hold out.
Jax takes another drink. His gaze is hot on me, pausing on key places. Now I feel that intense rush myself, wetness and heat and the unfurling of desire.
How long canIhold out?
We remain in this standoff for long, excruciating seconds. His glass empties. His eyes are dark. The blue in them is long gone, all black-gray.
Calmly, carefully, he sets his drink on a side table near the door.
And I don’t see it coming.
He’s at me, mouth on mine, and I’m in his arms. Before I can catch my breath, I’ve landed on the bed, and he’s on top of me, heavy and solid. The feeling is delicious, his smooth shirt and pants against my naked skin.
He grabs my wrists and takes them both in one strong hand. He lifts them up and over my head. I’m pinned, but I want it that way. If he’s going to possess me, he might as well do it right.
I sense he wants to tie me down, but he doesn’t have a rope, and there are no cords on the draperies. His lips rove over mine, his mouth hot, his tongue demanding. I can scarcely breathe.
I hear a jingle and a faint hiss and realize he’s removed his belt. My heart speeds up.
He breaks the kiss a moment and lets the soft end of the leather trail up my thigh. It lands for a second between my legs and I inhale sharply. Every part of me is on edge. I look up at him, knowing I want something but am too embarrassed to ask for it. I’ve barely even had sex with him, but already I know what takes things over the edge. A little bit of —
Thwack.
He slaps it lightly against me, and I cry out.
He knows.
I look up at him, the sting flashing through my body like an electric shock.
His eyes are on me. I remember in the barn, when I surprised him by saying, “Harder.” I know based on the letters he wrote me that this makes us a fit. He can say those words were code, but I know that in order to write them to begin with, you have to know what you’re talking about.
This is what he likes.
Rough then gentle. The extra burn makes the pleasure that follows all the more intense.
I get it.
I learn fast.
Thwack.
I clutch at his hand, igniting with the contact. This time he drops the belt and applies the touch after, a finger slipping inside.
Now I moan. I can’t manage. I need more. I writhe beneath him, trying to make him work faster, harder. I’m heading up that peak and I want it now.
He chuckles. “Oh, it’s not going to be that easy for you. Not after taunting me on the massage table.”
My eyes fly open. He withdraws his hand and picks up the belt. He encircles my wrists, then weaves the end through the slats on the headboard. With a quick tug, he has me locked down, my elbows by my ears. I’m exposed again, like in the barn.
But this time I’m not the least bit afraid.
He puts his hands on my waist and neatly flips me over onto my belly.
“On your knees,” he says, and guides my legs underneath me.
He comes up behind me and runs his hands down my back, then my bottom, sliding down the curve until he finds me.
