Satisfaction Guaranteed

by Lucy Monroe

  His answer was to slide his foot back into reach. When she was done securing it, she surveyed her handiwork and something scary moved inside her heart. He’d let her do it. He hadn’t made fun of her, or refused her fantasies. He hadn’t tried to seduce her past them. He’d even bought the restraints. Just for her.

  Oh, man. It was as if he understood the woman inside her, the fantasy vixen who needed to become real. And while her body vibrated with a sexual charge unlike any she’d ever known, unexpected emotion stirred inside her, too.

  She reached out with a trembling hand and stroked his calf. It wasn’t a sexual caress, though the feel of his hair-roughened leg under her hand was intensely alluring. She just wanted to touch him, to connect to this man who made himself so open to her. “I don’t want to love you.”

  The words came out of nowhere. She wasn’t thinking about love right then. Did not want to think about it with him ever.

  “You’re making love to me, baby. Not loving me. There’s a difference,” he rumbled in that seductive Texas drawl.

  “Are you sure?” the old Beth/new Beth asked.

  “Yes. This is sex. Incredible sex, but that’s all.”

  He sounded so sure. And why shouldn’t he? He had more experience with this sort of thing than she did. She’d never had sex with someone she didn’t love, but she knew he had. Probably a lot of someones. He knew what he was talking about. And she wanted to believe, so she did.

  She climbed onto the bed and then onto him and he growled as the damp silk of her panties rubbed against his washboard stomach.

  He hissed like she’d burned him. “You’re so hot, baby. Wet and hot like molten lava.”

  She carefully pressed her hands against his shoulders and leaned down until their lips almost touched. “You’re hot, too, but you aren’t liquid…more like solid rock.”

  “Something feels rock hard right now.”

  “Yes. All of you,” she teased huskily and gently bit his chin. He tasted salty, but he must have shaved before she arrived because his skin was smooth and oh so tempting.

  She nibbled along his jawline. Stopping when she reached his ear and tugging on the lobe with her teeth. Then she flicked her tongue out and tasted.

  “Beth…”

  “What?” she whispered against his ear.

  “Kiss me.”

  “Yes.”

  She slid her open mouth along his cheek until her lips met his and fireworks exploded inside of her. It was perfect. Different than any kiss she’d ever known. He tasted utterly masculine and sinfully delicious. And his lips exerted just the right amount of pressure, molding hers with possessive intent.

  It did not feel like he was responding to her kiss so much as marking her with his own. A kiss could not mark you, could it? But she felt marked. Claimed. And she moved her lips against his with voracious abandon, frantic to make him feel the same way. Even if it was just physical…it felt so profound that it affected her soul and that had to be mutual.

  It didn’t matter if he was doing this for the case, or for the raging erection brushing her back…it had to be mutual.

  A tiny voice amidst her shattered sense of self tried to tell her that soul stirring might not be a good thing, but she closed her mind to it.

  This felt too elemental to be anything but predestined.

  And if it caused her pain later, that was part of tomorrow, not now and now was where she was existing.

  She licked along the seam of his lips and his mouth opened under hers with a groan. She dove inside with her tongue, craving more of his taste, more of him. He arched under her, pressing his hard stomach against the apex of her thighs and sending stabs of sensation through her. She pushed down with her pelvis, increasing the friction, but it wasn’t enough.

  She wanted to rip her panties off and mount him, but that would defeat the whole purpose of tying him up. How could she be so close to losing control…again?

  She broke her mouth from his, panting. “That’s enough kissing for right now.”

  Chapter 11

  Ethan licked his lips as if he was savoring her taste. “I don’t agree.”

  “That’s too bad because I’m the one in control.”

  “Are you? You might be in charge, baby, but unless this old boy’s eyes deceive him, you are out of control.”

  She sat up, pretending not to notice the way he flexed his muscles under her highly sensitized flesh. “Maybe you need to get your eyes checked.”

  “My vision is twenty-ten, baby. Maybe you need to get a condom out of the drawer and get me ready.”

  “We’re a long way from that.”

  He pushed up against her and she couldn’t stifle a moan. His smile was pure predatory male. “Sweetheart, you need it as much as I do.”

  “Do I?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “But this must be the place where you deny it.”

  “I’m not denying anything.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Maybe myself.” But she wasn’t denying she wanted him. Only that she would give in…for now.

  “And me. That’s two pretty big things.”

  She reached behind herself and gripped his hardness, or tried to. She couldn’t quite get her fingers around him and that knowledge sent shivers arcing through her.

  “Yes, very big,” she said in a throaty voice she’d never used before.

  He laughed, but the sound choked off on a deep groan as she squeezed the pulsing flesh in her hand.

  “Much more of that and I’ll go off like a rocket.”

  “Would that bother you?”

  “To come before you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d rather be inside you, but, Beth…you’ve been teasing me with that sweet body for so long, there’s no way one time is going to be enough. Or even two…I figure tomorrow morning we’re both going to be a little sore.”

  “But sated,” she said on an approving sigh.

  “For a while at least.”

  She grinned, liking the sound of that, and let go. She wasn’t ready for him to come yet. She pressed both hands against his chest again. “There are so many ways I’ve fantasized about touching you. I want to do them all.”

  “Go for it, baby. I’m all yours.”

  She cast a significant look to his bound hands. “I know.” Rocking herself against him, she brushed her fingertips through the light dusting of hair on his chest. “Some extreme sportsmen shave here.”

  “Some shave their whole bodies.” He made a face that showed his distaste at the idea. “I don’t.”

  “I could tell,” she mocked.

  “Smart aleck.”

  She circled his nipples with her fingertips. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why don’t you shave? I thought it was supposed to make you faster…more competitive.” She liked the hair on his chest. It excited her…it was so very male, but she knew he took his extreme sports seriously, too.

  “Besides the fact there are very few sports that body hair can make any real competitive difference to, baby, I’m from Texas.”

  “What does where you are from have to do with it?”

  “You ever seen a cowboy with a shaved chest?”

  “I’ve never seen a real-life cowboy, period.” She looked around his room, then back at him and smiled. “Except you.”

  “Trust me, then. Cowboys don’t shave their bodies.”

  “Or wax?”

  He shuddered. “Or wax.”

  “Not manly enough?” she teased.

  “Real men do not wax,” he growled.

  She kept tracing over his skin and he moved restlessly under her. “Do real men like having their nipples touched?”

  “You can touch me anywhere you like and it will pleasure me.”

  “Good.” But she didn’t touch the hard little points. Not yet. She’d fantasized so many times about this that she wasn’t going to let it go too fast. She brushed a jagged sca
r that looked like a starburst on his right shoulder. “Where did you get this?”

  “On assignment.”

  “You can tell me details. I have clearance.”

  He shook his head, his stomach muscles bunching under her. “I don’t talk about work when I’m in bed with a beautiful woman.” His muscles moved again, caressing her.

  He was so sneaky. He really did think he could keep control even bound. And she loved that.

  “Is that a hard-and-fast rule?” she asked, running her hand over the scar, noticing how sensitive he was there.

  “Yes,” he ground out.

  “Hmmm…” She went back to his nipples, lightly scraping them with her nails. “Maybe I can make you break it.”

  He groaned as she went back and forth, back and forth over the rigid little nubs. “Why would you want to?”

  “Because I want to know.”

  “You curious about me, Beth?”

  “You told me I was supposed to be. Remember?”

  “Yeah.” He thought for a second. “I’ll tell you. For another kiss.”

  “Okay…first you tell and then I kiss.”

  “Deal.”

  So, he told her. He’d been shot when taking down the enemy. It had happened before she started working for TGP. She’d read numerous accounts with similar scenarios, but hearing it from his lips affected her emotions in a way they never had been reading over and filing reports for the other agents. When he was done, she leaned down and kissed the scar, running her lips and tongue along each jagged line until she’d bathed the old wound completely with her sensuality.

  “I thought you were going to kiss my lips,” he said on a ragged breath.

  She smiled and met his hot green eyes. “Did I say I was going to kiss your lips?”

  “No.”

  “Then I kept my side of the bargain.”

  “That you did. You’re wily, Miss Whitney. You know that?”

  “I’m horny, Mr. Crane. And that is entirely your fault.”

  “Do I look like I’m complaining?”

  “You look edible.” She sighed as her fingers kneaded his chest like a cat and then she traced another, smaller scar near his ribs. “What about this one?”

  “Same deal?”

  “Same deal.”

  “A knife wound from a bar fight.”

  The bar had been in France and the fight had been started by a perp trying to cover a deal gone bad.

  And so it went. She asked about a mark and he told her the story. Some were from assignments. Some were from mishaps when he was doing his extreme sports. Some were from growing up on a ranch. She kissed each one after his explanation, sometimes spending a long time on the area around it. He muttered her name and a curse in a guttural voice more than once.

  She even undid the restraints on one ankle so he could turn on his side and she could reach his back. He wasn’t exactly riddled with scars, but he had a sexy mole, right on his left flank and she made him tell her it was a birthmark before kissing it, too. He let her put the restraints on him again when she was done and they were both shaking with arousal and need by the time she’d pointed to a small scar near his groin.

  “I got that falling off a horse.” His voice was low-pitched and filled with tension.

  She brushed the almost faded scar. “I thought you could ride anything.”

  “I was ten at the time.”

  She leaned over until her hair brushed his thighs and balls. He hissed and bucked, causing the silky strands to caress his erection, too. She turned her head back and forth, to do it some more.

  “You’re torturing me, woman.”

  “That’s the idea,” she whispered against his groin.

  He laughed, having heard her. “You’re damn good at it.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.” Her lips closed over the old scar and her tongue darted out to taste. She sucked, giving him a love bite right there.

  His hips flexed upward. “Damn it, baby. Put your mouth on me.”

  “My mouth is on you.” And he tasted so good, musky, male, and hot.

  “I need your mouth on my cock. Now, Beth.”

  She sat up, straddling one of his strong legs, her feminine flesh clenching at the sensation of his hairy thigh against the smooth skin of her inner thighs. His muscles flexed against her. He had incredible definition and control. No wonder he was so good at his extreme sports. She shuddered from the intense pleasure of the subtle caress and couldn’t help rubbing herself against him, just a little.

  A harsh sound came from his throat. “You are killing me.”

  “You’ve said that before, but you’re still alive.”

  “Edging toward insanity.”

  She cupped his sac very gently. “I’m not trying to drive you crazy.”

  “Then Heaven help me if you ever did.”

  She laughed, her whole body awash with sensation, but her humor triggered by his obvious sexual frustration. She squeezed oh so carefully and caressed his length with her other hand. “You are so soft here.”

  “That’s not the word I would use to describe it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” he said gutturally.

  She moved her hand up and down the entire length of his shaft. Once. Twice. Three times. He bowed beneath her again, making his thigh grind against her tender flesh. She couldn’t stand the restriction of her panties anymore and scrambled out of them before resuming her position.

  “The bra, too,” he demanded in a voice that made her insides quiver with sensual delight.

  “And if I don’t want to?”

  “Do it anyway.”

  He was tied to the bed, at her mercy, and yet she felt an overwhelming urge to do as he said. Maybe because her breasts were aching and swollen and she wanted the sensation of his scorching gaze on them as much as he wanted to look. Or maybe because a primal part of her wanted to submit. Regardless of why, she undid her bra and peeled it from her body slowly while he watched in hungry fascination.

  “You have a gorgeous rack, Beth.”

  Despite the level of her arousal, laughter burst out of her. “Rack?”

  “Would you rather I said tits?” he asked, one corner of his mouth tipped in a sexy smile, but his voice was strained.

  She thought about it. “Uh…no.”

  “Boobs? Hooters? Cans? Boobies? Melons? Gozangas?”

  She shook her head, giggling. “They’re my breasts.”

  “They’re a work of art.”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  “That’s a mild word for my reaction to seeing them.”

  Looking at the way his penis bobbed in angry arousal, she had to agree.

  “Touch your nipples…like you did when we were on the phone last night. I want to see you do it.”

  “You’re getting awfully demanding. First you wanted me to go down on you, then take off my bra…and now you’re demanding I touch myself.” She hadn’t taken him in her mouth, but she had taken off her bra.

  “Do it.”

  Her inner walls spasmed at the command in his voice. “Choose.”

  “What?”

  “Either I touch myself or I take you in my mouth.”

  “You’ll do whichever one I want…to my specifications?”

  That wasn’t what she’d said, but it made her get wetter to think about, so she nodded.

  “Touch yourself.”

  She jolted. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked her for the blow job. Maybe she wasn’t affecting him as much as she thought. Only his hard flesh looked ready to explode, pre-cum glistening on his tip in enticing wetness. Could he really want to see her touch herself more than he wanted to be touched? Or was he trying to wrest control from her despite his bonds?

  If that was the case, she was just going to have to make watching her as exciting as experiencing her mouth.

  She cupped her breasts, lifting them and moaning softly as she did so. “Like this?”

  “Yes. Knead that
pretty flesh.”

  She kneaded, excitement spearing straight from her aching nipples to her throbbing clitoris. “Do you want me to touch my nipples?”

  “Yes.”

  She did, playing with them like she had the night before, rolling them between her fingertips and pulling on them as she rode his thigh with increasingly urgent movements. He helped her, pressing upward and moving his leg side to side. She was losing the momentum of her seduction, but she couldn’t make herself care.

  “Now touch your clit, but don’t stop playing with your breast with the other hand.”

  “I didn’t say I would touch myself there,” she panted.

  “You didn’t specify where—only that you would do it to my specifications and I just specified.”

  How could she not have noticed such a glaring omission? She shook her head, trying to clear it, but Ethan misunderstood and frowned.

  “You a welsher, baby?”

  “No.”

  “Then touch yourself.”

  She wanted to, so why deny him?

  So, she did, sliding her hand into the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs until one fingertip encountered her sweet spot. Pleasure pulsed at the touch.

  “That looks so hot, baby…just like I pictured it last night on the phone.”

  And suddenly she needed the same thing. She didn’t know why he wanted to see her as she’d been last night, but she needed to see him touch himself to complete what they’d done. To make it real and not just another fantasy that he’d cooperated with creating. The need was a driving compulsion she didn’t even attempt to stem.

  She leaned up and unlatched one of the wrist cuffs. “Show me, too.”

  He required no second urging, but wrapped his long fingers around his shaft and stroked himself. “You’re going to make me come this way.”

  “Like you said earlier, we have all night for other stuff.” But she really didn’t want their first climax to be this way…she just wanted to drive them both closer to the edge.

  His hand came up and she saw that he was going to brush it over his head and she didn’t want him to wipe away the moisture there. She wanted to taste it.

  She swept down and took his head into her mouth without any warning.