Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(62)

I lifted my shoulders and assumed an expression of innocence as I sauntered toward him, hands clasped behind my back. “How to please you, of course.”

He yanked the tie from his collar. “Turn around.”

I presented my back to him and saw our reflections in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. I half expected him to yank up the sequined skirt he liked so much and fuck me right there on my feet—while both of us watched. But instead, he pulled my hands behind my back and bound my wrists with his necktie.

Tight.

A little gasp escaped me. My heart was pounding. I’d never been tied up before.

“You wanted to learn how to please me.” Henry locked eyes with me in the mirror.

“Yes.”

“Sometimes I like to have all the control.”

He stood there for one second longer, and I briefly wondered if he was debating how far to take this little game. I wanted to show him he didn’t have to be afraid of hurting me, of offending me. I wanted to play—hadn’t I started it? How could I let him know?

Facing him again, I dropped to my knees on the rug and looked up at him with wide eyes. “Tell me what to do.” I licked my lips. “Please.”

“Jesus.” Henry put two fingers beneath my chin and ran his thumb across my bottom lip. “Your mouth is so fucking beautiful.”

I parted my lips slightly, and he slipped his thumb between them. I stroked it with my tongue, circled it, sucked on it, all the while keeping my eyes locked on his.

His breathing grew heavier. “Do you know what you’re asking for, little girl?”

I almost nodded—but then thought it might be more fun if I answered no. So I shook my head, pulled my lips from his thumb. “Show me.”

He unbuckled.

Unbuttoned.

Unzipped.

Then he reached inside his pants and pulled out his cock, which was huge and thick and hard. He stroked himself a few times, and I felt myself growing wetter.

“Let me,” I whispered.

He positioned the tip at my lips and I licked it like an ice cream cone with my tongue. One side then the other. Around in a circle. This way and that, while he gripped his shaft in his fist and worked his hand slowly up and down.

“Like that?” I asked coyly, batting my lashes at him.

“Fuck yes. Now open your mouth.”

I did as he asked, and he pushed his cock between my lips, slowly, inch by inch, until he hit the back of my throat. For a second, I was scared I might choke, but then he pulled out. When he slid in the next time, it was only halfway, allowing me to play and tease and suck as he gently flexed his hips. His hands moved to my head, and he groaned as he adopted a quicker rhythm, a harder drive, a deeper thrust.

“You make me so fucking hard,” he rasped. “Even when I have all the control, I don’t. Every fucking second is a struggle around you.”

Without the use of my hands, I had no control whatsoever, and the fear of choking or suffocating was real in my mind. But I loved his guttural sounds of ecstasy, the way his fingers tightened in my hair, the salty-sweet taste of him on my tongue. The animal noises I made were instinctive, helpless, throaty, frantic. Part of me was embarrassed by them, but another part thrilled at letting go of caring what I looked like or sounded like—I didn’t have to conform to a manufactured version of myself anymore. I didn’t have to be perfect all the time. I could be dirty. I could be real. I could be me.

“My God, your ass in that skirt,” Henry growled, and I realized he was watching this in the mirror. Somehow, that made it even hotter. “I have to fuck you while you’re wearing it.”

Suddenly, he pulled his cock out of my mouth and yanked me to my feet. With my hands still tied, I felt myself being pushed toward the mirror, then spun around to face it. Henry dropped down and reached beneath my skirt to tug my barely-there red lace panties down my legs and help me step out with one foot. When he stood, he braced himself against the mirror with one arm, wrapped the other around my waist and slipped his hand under my skirt, between my thighs.

I moaned, my legs nearly buckling as he played with my clit—stroking it softly while he whispered in my ear. “Did sucking my cock make you this wet? Did it?”

“Yes,” I managed. I could feel his cock pushing against my bound hands and I tried to rub it. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I could scarcely believe the woman in the glass was me. My hair was a wild mess. My lipstick was smeared all over my chin. My skin was flushed. My eyes were hooded and my mouth hung open.

“I love how greedy you are for me,” he said, his voice gravelly with lust as he moved his fingers faster. Christ, he knew exactly how to touch me. “I tell myself you’ve never been this way for anyone else.”

“I haven’t. Oh God, Henry,” I panted, that familiar panic setting in, the one I always felt when an orgasm hovered and I worried it would shimmer in front of me and then disappear, a mirage. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Of course, he didn’t stop, because this was my new life, not my old, and I was with someone now who put value on my pleasure and not just his own. I nearly wept as the orgasm rocked my body above his hand, turning my legs to jelly.

I was barely steady on my heels again before I felt my hands being freed, and I caught myself against the mirror with both palms just as his cock pushed inside me. My skirt rode up as he drove inside me again and again, his hands gripping my hips. I watched myself in the mirror, took in my hiked-up skirt and wide-spread heels, my red knees and wild hair. And I watched Henry fucking me savagely from behind, heard his ragged breathing and clenched-teeth cursing, felt his fingers digging mercilessly into my skin.