by Tracy Wolff
It’s terrifying. Maddening. Exhilarating. I’ve never felt more vulnerable, more exposed, but right now, that doesn’t matter. Nothing does but Jaxon—the look in his eyes, the bulge in his jeans. The feel of his hands on my body.
“What do you want, Grace?” he asks, voice raspy now as he steps back to look me over. To survey his handiwork. “What can I give you?”
“Your dick.” The words are ripped from my very soul. “Inside me. Now.”
It’s a demand, but I can’t help myself. Not now. If he doesn’t come to me, if he doesn’t fuck me, I’ll go out of my damn mind.
“Soon, luv,” he says, sliding away from me.
“Not soon,” I tell him and my voice is trembling, tears of need burning in my eyes. “Now.”
“I will. I will. Just let me—” He reaches behind him, stretching until he can reach the camera he has resting on the table.”
“Pictures?” It’s as close to a wail as I have ever gotten. “You want to take pictures of me now?”
“More than I want to breathe, Grace, my love,” he answers, as he fiddles with the camera. “Almost more than I want to fuck you.”
I rock my hips against the floor at his words, desperate for some kind of friction. Desperate for anything to ease the need that’s making thinking almost impossible at this point.
“Fuck, Grace,” Jaxon breathes, and it’s more prayer than curse. Then he’s holding the camera to his face, taking picture after picture as he moves around me.
“You’re so beautiful like this, Grace,” he murmurs as he gets close to my face. “So bloody beautiful that it blows my mind.”
There’s such reverence in his voice that I almost believe him. Hell, maybe I do believe him because the way he looks at me when he pulls the camera away from his face can’t be a lie. It’s as raw, as open, as I am right now and it makes me melt—almost as much as it makes me burn.
“Jaxon!” I gasp out, my whole body straining against the ropes. My whole body straining toward him. “Please. Please. Please.”
“Just a few more pictures, baby. Just a few more.”
“No more,” I beg. “No more. I need... I need...”
“I know what you need,” he says, and then he reaches over with one hand and snaps—sharp and fast—against my clit.
I go off like a rocket, strangled cries caught in my throat as I shoot straight over the edge into orgasm. Jaxon pulls back, takes several more photos, and normally I’d want to kill him. But right now, tied up like this while pleasure skates along my every nerve ending, I don’t feel embarrassed. I don’t feel anything but good.
The whole world is soft when I finally come back down, everything a little fuzzy and out of focus. Everything, that is, except Jaxon. He’s in perfect focus as he stands in front of me, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them down his hips. Every cell in my body yearns toward him. His hands. His skin. His mouth. His cock. All for me.
All mine.
Then he’s kneeling between my spread legs as he shrugs out of his shirt, so close that I could touch him if I could move any of my body parts. I can’t, though. Can’t move my arms or my legs. Can’t even move my head without pulling my hair. And so all I can do is look at him and wait for whatever he’s going to give me.
With any other man I’d be going out of my mind, hating every second of being under his control. Hating even more how exposed and desperate I feel right now.
But Jaxon isn’t any other man. He’s Jaxon and as he leans forward to trace a finger around my nipple, I all but shudder in relief. The position of my arms and the ropes have my breasts jutting toward him, my nipples all but screaming for attention. He flicks first one, then the other. I cry out, arch my back. Then his mouth is there, hot and demanding as he scrapes his teeth across my nipple before drawing it into his mouth with a steady suction that has my eyes all but rolling back in my head. “Please.” It comes out soft, strangled. “Please.”
My pleading must work, because suddenly he’s there, between my legs, finger rubbing against my clit with a pressure that has me seeing stars within seconds. I’m close, so close, to going over the edge again, and he must know it because he pulls back seconds before I orgasm.
I snarl in frustration, but he just laughs. Then he reaches for a knife I didn’t even know he had and—with a few quick slices—cuts me out of the ropes.
I gasp, stretching out my arms and legs even as I reach for him. But I only get to touch him for a moment before he’s lifting me up and settling me down astride his dick.
I start to ride because the other option—of waiting—feels unbearable to me. Jaxon doesn’t seem to mind, though, because he’s right there with me, hips arching and fingers clawing at my back as I take him higher and higher and higher.
It feels good to be the one in control for once and I ride him hard, relishing the way he gasps and calls my name and digs his fingers into my shoulders, my hips, my thighs.
Leaning forward, I press my lips to his and whisper, “I love you, Jaxon Silva. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Turns out that’s all he needed to shoot over the edge, because seconds later he’s coming, his whole body going stiff beneath me as he calls out my name. He sounds desperate, devastated, and that’s all it takes to send me flying, too. I come with his hands on my upper thighs and his name on my lips.
I come and come and come. And when it’s over, when Jaxon cradles me in his arms and softly pets me until the whole world finally comes back into focus, all I can think about is how much I love him. How much I want to do this with him for the rest of our lives.
Which is why, when he reaches for his camera and starts taking more pictures of me, I don’t object. Because being bound by Jaxon—being loved by Jaxon—has finally set me free.
* * *
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To purchase and read more books by Tracy Wolff, please visit their website at www.tracywolffbooks.com.
Acknowledgments
First off, I have to thank my fabulous and amazing editor, Angela James, who is such a joy to work with. Thank you so much for your ideas regarding this book and your patience as I struggled (and struggled and struggled) to get Grace and Jaxon’s story written the way I want it. You really are the best and I’m so grateful that I get to work with you.
Shellee Roberts, Sherry Thomas and Emily McKay—thanks for being the best friends and writing pals a girl could ever ask for. I love you guys so much. xoxo
Emily Sylvan Kim—I’m running out of ways to say how much I adore you, but I’ll give it a shot. You really, truly are the most fabulous agent and friend I could ever ask for. Thank you for all your support and for all the many ways you’ve found through the years to talk me off a limb. I love you the most.
My fans—I have so much love and appreciation for you that it is hard to express. Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading my books and giving me the chance to spend my days doing what I love.
And finally, my boys, who I love more than I can ever say. We’ve had a rough and rocky few years and I just want to say thank you for hanging in there and being the coolest, most wonderful sons in the whole world. You amaze me every day.
Also available from Tracy Wolff
and Carina Press
Take Me
Also available from Tracy Wolff
and Harlequin
Claimed
Pursued
Unwrapped
Conflicted
Unguarded
Embraced
No Apologies
About the Baby
Beginning with Their Baby
From the Beginning
Deserving of Luke
Healing Dr. Alexander
Coming soon from Tracy Wolff
and Carina Press
Break Me
Also available from Tracy Wolff
Ruined
Addicted
Exposed
Flawed
Lovegame
Play Me
Shredded
Shattered
Slashed
Down and Dirty
Hot and Heavy
Rough and Ready
Royal Pain
Royal Treatment
Accelerate
Full Exposure
Tie Me Down
Crash into Me
Drive Me Crazy
Fade into You
Lyric and Lingerie
Harmony and High Heels
About the Author
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Tracy Wolff collects books, English degrees and lipsticks, and has been known to forget where—and sometimes who—she is when immersed in a great novel. At six she wrote her first short story—something with a rainbow and a prince—and at seven she forayed into the wonderful world of girls’ lit with her first Judy Blume novel. By ten she’d read everything in the young adult and classics sections of her local bookstore, so in desperation her mom started her on romance novels. And from the first page of the first book, Tracy knew she’d found her lifelong love. Now an English professor at her local community college, she writes romances that run the gamut from sweet contemporary to erotica, from paranormal to urban fantasy and from young adult to new adult. You can catch up with her and her latest releases on Facebook (Facebook.com/tracy.wolff.39) or Twitter (@tracywolff).
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ISBN-13: 9781488053764
Make Me
Copyright © 2019 by Tracy L. Deebs-Elkenaney
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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