“No terms needed. I’m not going there.”
“Should we have our lawyers negotiate it?” He untucked the T-shirt from his jeans, and stopped before pulling it off. Damn. Her mouth watered for the eye candy that was his chest and he took his time with his strip tease, a slight, puzzled expression on his face, more teasing than serious. “Are there lawyers who do that sort of thing? You would know better than me.”
“Not funny. It’s late, and you’re wasting time, Hernandez. I’m not in your room for sparkling repartee and chit-chat.”
“How is this for terms? I promise I’ll never hurt you. I did that once. At least I think what I did hurt you. Not that you ever acted hurt.” He arched an eyebrow and waited.
No, Hernandez. I’m not going there.
Apparently giving up on his fishing expedition for comments from her about their past, he continued, “And I’ll never do it again. I promise. Come on, Sam. Talk about what happened so we can move on from there. Really talk abou—”
“Careful, Hernandez. We’re talking about sex. Either you want it now, or you don’t. You’re going off topic. Don’t be a buzz kill.”
His eyes flashed with anger. He nodded, jaw set. After a second, he shrugged, the annoyance hidden behind that stoic emotional shield. “Sex. Got it. Just a fuck or two, or many, while the job’s taking place, right?”
Yes. Please. She nodded.
“Fine. Understood. How’s this,” he continued, his tone matter of fact, though she could tell from the pulse that was throbbing at his temple that he was still irritated. “Let me tie you. Choose a safe word. I’ll untie you when you say it.”
He pulled off his T-shirt and threw it to the chair with the sweatshirt. Ahhh. Hell yes. Lamplight illuminated tawny skin stretched taught over well-defined abs that led down to the waistline of his jeans. “Good enough?”
“Fantastic. Yes. Wait.” What was the pending question? Oh. Hell! He was talking about bondage. Tying her to the bed, and she’d just said yes. “No. Why don’t you be the submissive one? Let me tie you.”
He chuckled. “Seriously?”
“Sure. With the tables turned you’re suddenly not so sure? Scared of relinquishing control?”
“Hell, no.” He gave her rare a full smile, the grin of a man who was about to have a fond wish granted. The offer seemed to dispel his irritation, and now a different emotion heated his gaze.
Oh hell.
“Ever engaged in bondage before?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Truth?”
“Assume this—anytime you’re talking to me, I want the truth. Even about your sexual exploits. We’re just having sex, without an emotional commitment. In my book, the more experience a man has, the better. I don’t have a lot of time for sex and I don’t want to waste time with someone who fumbles. I don’t care if you’ve done it with three lingerie models at the same time—”
“Really? Well, that’s a relief, because—”
“I’d say hoorah to you. Take your pants off while you tell me about it.”
“Answer’s yes.” He unzipped his jeans, rolled them down, and kicked them to the side. His smoky-gray trunks went to mid-thigh and fit like a second skin, cupping his butt, his balls, and his penis. If he modeled them, the company would sell out in mere minutes. With the hard-on he sported, the image wouldn’t be an advertisement at all. It would be called porn.
“Tell me more,” she said as he reached for his nightstand and pulled out a condom.
She grabbed the condom out of his hand. “Don’t put that on yet.”
“I don’t have sex without one.”
“And I’m not planning on having sex for a few minutes,” she whispered, eyeing his erection and fighting for willpower. She wanted to forget the ties and just climb on top of him. “Tell me about your experience with bondage.”
“Those days were a while ago. Before marriage. Before you.”
He still hadn’t taken the damn grin off his face. He did a slow strip down of his boxers. What was fully erect, and pointing to heaven, was a sight to behold. Her fingertips tingled with the need to touch the smooth skin that stretched around the girth and length of his hard, straining penis.
“Don’t just stare.” His voice was gruff. “You’ve got work to do.” He gestured with his chin to the pile of ties. “Pick a color. I’ll help you with my ankles.”
She handed him a tie as he sat on the bed and spread his legs. As she eyed his erection, she said, “I’m not sure I really get the point. Seems like a waste of time, when I could just climb on top of you right now. You certainly look ready for me.”
“Just get me tied me up and you’ll see. This is about anticipation, something not high on your list of accomplishments.” He got to work on his right ankle. “Tying the restraints properly is an art, and”—as she tugged on his left ankle, he glanced at her work and frowned—“you’re doing a piss-poor job.”
She didn’t bother checking his knot, nor was she too careful with hers. At this point, she didn’t care if the damn thing held. “Tell me about your most memorable bondage experience.”
“Twins. I was the bottom, which means I was the one who was tied. The three of us came at the same time.” Studying her expression, he threw back his head and laughed as what he said registered.
“How did that even happen? Oh my gosh, one of them was sitting on—”
“I’m pulling your leg. I won’t give you details about my sex life. Not now. Not ever.”
“Spoilsport.” She mumbled, kneeling on the bed, at his side, eyes on his penis as she snapped the red tie, extending it to its full length between her spread hands. “Give me your wrists.”
“Gimme me that condom back.”
“No. I’ll put it on you.”
“Dammit, Sam,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “I’m warning you. I’ve had a hard-on for the last five hours. I’ll last longer with a condom.”
“Awwww. You’re adorable. Worried about performance?”
His frown, real and marked, told her he didn’t like her ribbing. “You’ll pay for that.”
She laughed. “God, I hope so. Hey, I might not have tied up a guy before, but I know my way around a good hard on. And this…” She glanced at his penis, licked her lips, and met his eyes. “Is a great one. Don’t worry. I won’t waste it.”
He extended his arms to her, one wrist over another. She wound the tie around them, pulled them over his head and bound his hands to the headboard. “If you—”
“Shhhh.” Pressing her fingers to his lips, she said, “Now that you’re all tied up, you have to listen to me, don’t you?”
His eyelids were half-closed, his chest flushed. He still smiled, as though he enjoyed every single second of what she was doing. “That is part of the fun of it.”
“Don’t say another word until I untie you. If you do,” she whispered into his ear, “I won’t do a thing.”
She watched his chest rise and fall with each deep breath as she removed her camisole and panties in a slow strip tease. Until he was fully restrained, she had planned on mounting him and using his penis as the great Creator had intended when designing it with well-honed perfection as a tool to give a woman pleasure.
Something happened, though, between thought and execution when she stepped back and got an eyeful of his glorious body, all muscle and sinew, immobile, an offering for her. It was the same thing that had happened earlier in the evening, when he had tried to hold her after he had fucked her so hard she’d seen stars.
She became someone else, transported to a time when sex hadn’t just been sex. There had been a time when she hadn’t been such a hard ass, a time when she’d believed in the gifts of happiness and love and that her life could—and would—have both.
That time had been with him, seven years earlier, and it had ended abruptly when he’d told her he was going to Miami to marry his pregnant ex-girlfriend.
There was a huge problem with having sex with Zeus.
H
is goddamn penis—glorious as it was—was a divining rod straight back to that time, to a person who no longer existed.
Being with him again was too tangible a reminder of who and what she no longer allowed herself to be. She was no longer the naïve woman who’d believed that upon falling in love with him, with every unquestioning molecule in her twenty-six year old brain, that he was going to be a part of her life forever. That he’d light the shadows of her darkest days, that he’d be there to walk with her on every ambition-fueled journey through which she travelled. That he could be a facilitator of her dreams.
He made her miss the naive, hopeful person he’d inspired her to be.
The person who had never existed with anyone but him.
In the soft lamplight, as she stood at his bedside, his obsidian eyes were on her. Still lustful, but now tinged with concern.
Dammit. He could always read her, and now he saw that she was hesitating, as though this was more than sex-play, as though this was a momentous occasion.
Which it isn’t.
Her hand shaking, she reached for one of the leftover neckties.
The days of showing vulnerability are long in the past.
Bending over him, she kissed the frown in the middle of his eyebrows. “Close your eyes.”
When he did, she slipped the red necktie around his head and blindfolded him. Better that he not see, because she didn’t trust herself.
Knowing at her very core that what was about to happen was ephemeral, she lay on top of him, her chest pressed to his, her hands holding onto either side of his head. Drawing in a deep breath, her eyes clouded with tears.
The first one can’t fall.
It did. Another one dropped, on his chest.
She shut her eyes tightly, tried to stop the flow, tried to keep her hands from shaking as she touched him. She gave up and allowed her tears to fall freely. Shimmying up his chest, she pressed her lips to his. Lingering touches. Gentle touches. As though each soft, slow connection mattered. Lingering at his lips, she memorized the soft texture, kissing the corners that throughout each day reflected just a trace of his emotions. Would she ever tell him that she watched for each slight smile, smirk, frown?
No. Never.
He was still, his entire body rigid. As though he was holding his breath, waiting for her next move. Applying pressure, parting his lips, she slipped her tongue into his mouth, moaning with him as he groaned. As he kissed her back, lifting his head from the pillow and joining his mouth with hers with all the force he always used when kissing her, as though he knew he’d never get enough, more tears fell.
She broke away for a second. Stop crying. Stop crying. Oh God, what is wrong with me?
She kissed the hard ridge of his jawline, feeling the sharp hair of his evening shadow, and moved her lips to his neck and chest. With each kiss producing a yearning for something that could never be, she stopped caring about the fat tears that slipped from her eyes.
He couldn’t see. He had no idea.
She allowed herself to kiss him like she loved him, as though each touch of her lips on him mattered. The woodsy-clean taste of his skin blended with the salty taste of her tears and still she kept kissing, her hands shaking as she held onto him at his shoulders and his chest.
Kneeling at his shoulders, she placed her right breast in his mouth, aching for his touch there. He lifted his head, using his teeth and tongue with the desperation of a man having his last drink of water. Her insides clenched with the force of it, leaving her breathless. She shifted and offered the other breast to him, seeing stars when he closed his mouth around her, sucking hard as he tongued her nipple.
Her tears fell in earnest as she traveled lower, while his groans intensified. When she finally put her mouth on his hard, straining penis, he thrust his hips up and down as much as the restraints would allow. She gripped the shaft as she slid her tongue around the smooth head. Glancing up, vision filmy with moisture, she saw that he was shaking his head from side to side, drawing in deep breaths. His jaw clenched. His chest covered in a sheen of perspiration. He was close. So close.
She glanced at the condom packet. Not going to happen. She wanted to feel him.
She positioned herself above him and held onto his shaft, pausing for a few minutes to give him time to recover. She slid her hips down, inch by delicious taking him into her.
“Hey. Put that cond—”
Eyes closed, focused on the feel of him filling and spreading her, she said, “No talking.”
He took a few harsh breaths. “I give up. Feels fucking fabulous.”
With her walls clenching around him, electrical shocks blew her mind, prompting her to forgive his breaching her rule that he not speak. When she absorbed the full length of him, she tried to stay still. Involuntary twitches, from her and him, happened where they were joined, as her internal muscles magically clamped around his length and girth, adjusting to him and accommodating him.
She had no control over what was happening deep inside of her, but the feeling of her body slowly welcoming him was more powerful than anything she’d ever done. The only other movement was the rise and fall of their chests that came with their deep, heavy breathing.
Samantha held the back of her hand against her mouth, choking back a loud sob, believing with every fiber of her being that this was as close as she’d ever come to making love to him. To anyone. Her need for release built, edging out the raw emotion that had overcome her.
Panting, she braced her palms at the bottom of his ribcage, and her knees at his waist. She rode him, lifting up and down in smooth moves designed to let him slide in, and almost all the way out. Her thrusts became more urgent, while her inner walls clenched around his girth. Within seconds, she was moaning with him, grinding down onto him and rocking her entire body with the effort.
“Oh. Zeus. Oh.”
He answered her with a loud, low groan and a slight shift up in his hips, as much movement as the ties would allow. As she felt him explode into her, she leaned forward, onto his chest, and held on.
After some time, she realized she’d drifted off. Her face felt like it was glued to his chest, with her hair tangled in between. His soft inhalations and exhalations told her he had no problem that she’d fallen asleep on top of him without untying him, because he’d managed to fall asleep as well.
His penis had slipped out of her. What a shame, because she could feel it against her thigh. He was now semi-erect, even in sleep. The man was insatiable when it came to sex.
Thank God.
She slid off of him, ran her fingers through her hair to get it out of her eyes, and sat at his side. His steady, even breathing didn’t change. Planning to untie him and go catch a few hours of sleep in her own bedroom, she undid the ankle ties. He didn’t move. When she reached for the tie that bound his wrists to the headboard, she gasped. Although the tie remained wrapped around his wrists, it was loose. The end of it was no longer attached to the headboard.
In a quick move, Zeus shifted from his supine position to tackling her, gently pushing her onto her back, chuckling as he laid her head on his pillow. He shook the red necktie off his eyes as he covered her with his body.
“Bastard! You were faking. When did that come untied?”
“Somewhere between your right breast and your left. I deserve an award for pretending I couldn’t touch you.”
He drank her next words of protest with a deep kiss. Travelling down her body, marking his progress with a trail of kisses, she realized that having sex with Zeus would always be a double-edge sword. One deep cut was sensual bliss. The other cut was a deep gash that would make her long for someone she’d never be again, while making her want something she’d never admit to wanting.
Wasn’t much to be done about that when the man had his face just inches away from her mound, when he was using his thumbs to part her folds, and when she felt his warm tongue slip into her. As she moaned, he shifted his mouth upwards and closed his lips around her clitoris, suc
king and tonguing the hard nub. Suddenly, his fingers were thrusting in and out of her, hard, as though he owned a claim to her vagina and could use it any way he desired. Exactly how she liked it—plunging in and out of her with so much force it almost hurt, but not quite. As he manhandled her in a manner that no one else had ever mastered, all she could do was moan his name, lift herself up on her elbows, and enjoy the show.
Each time she was on the precipice of a mind-blowing orgasm, his touches became gentle and soft, prolonging her agony as his gaze swept up to meet hers. It was torture and, as he met her gaze, he gave her a look that said he knew it and was damn well enjoying it.
Hell.
It was, really, nothing but a pure heaven that made her forget anything else but the two of them. He finally let her peak, and as she did, he applied steady, sucking pressure on her clitoris, tonguing the hard nub while holding it steady with his teeth and lips. As her hips bucked into his mouth, he thrust his fingers deeper inside of her, anchoring her to his mouth. She screamed her release, loud, at first, then remembering they were in a house with others, she grabbed the pillow and muffled her cries.
He covered her body with his, pressing flat against her. Along her right thigh, she felt his erection. He was hard, hot, and straining, when she was flat on her back, almost too spent from her orgasm to do anything but spread her legs.
“Sorry. I. Don’t. Think. I. Can. Move.”
He kneed her legs further apart, giving her a concerned glance. “Should I stop?”
“No. Please. Don’t know if I can help. Or make this good for you. I’ve lost every ounce of strength.”
Gripping her hips, he lifted her up while sliding down her body. He hooked her knees at his shoulders, positioning himself for entry. “I’ve got enough for both of us. All you have to do is…”
He thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt, filling her.
“Be. You,” he whispered, “God, you’re heaven.”
Their eyes held as their bodies melted together more with each thrust. Her hips started flexing to accommodate his thrusts. His chest became flushed as he buried himself in her and brought her to the peak again. As her muscles clenched tightly around him, she whimpered while she came, riding higher with each of his hard thrusts. When she cried out his name, he responded by throwing his head back, groaning, and arching into her. His body trembled from head to toe. She felt his release, deep inside of her. When he was through, he fell to her side, half on her, half off.
Jigsaw (Black Raven Book 2) Page 23