Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(22)

That he had an answer for. Plus, he was getting his feet back under him. Since the flash of her legs and sway of her breasts were not making him any less distracted, and he couldn’t deny entirely unwise amusement was building in him, he chose to act.

He caught her around the waist on her next turn and tumbled her backward into the pillows on the bed. She fought him at first, but when he pinned her wrists and held her body down with his own, her resistance grew more half-hearted. Especially when he began to kiss her throat, teasing her pounding pulse with tongue and lips.

“Because he knows me,” he murmured against her flesh. “He’s an ass, and a prankster, but he’s right.”

He lifted his head and met her blue eyes. They were still fired up, but his words had softened her mouth, somewhat. Fortunately, she had a sense of humor too, so he also saw some of that making its way through her annoyance. He pressed between her legs and went back to enjoying her throat, pleased when a thready sigh suggested he was helping move her away from anger.

“You could line up every slave girl on this island in front of me,” he said. “There’s only one woman who interests me. Only one who I want enough to kill, live or die for her. Be with her always.”

When he glanced up, he saw her blue eyes had at last warmed fully, her lips twisting. “Charmer.” She took a breath. “I’m not going to ask you about this. About how pretty, or soft, or young…”

“No. You won’t.” Raising his head to lock gazes with her, he released one wrist to touch her face. Now the Master took the upper hand in his tone, quieting her. “Because there’s nothing to tell, and all I want is you. When you walked in here and I first saw you, my knees buckled. I almost knelt at your feet.”

She tilted her head, a little smile coming back to her serious features. “You know, it’s not quite as big a fantasy for me as this was, but there is a part of me that wonders…”

With an impish look rare for her, Savannah pushed against him, indicating she wanted to get up. Intrigued by her intent expression, Matt sat back enough to let her wriggle out from under him and make her way to the side of the bed. When she reached out and took his hand, tugged him to his feet, he followed her.

Within a couple steps, though, she’d turned to face him and reversed their positions. Putting her hands on his bare chest, she backed him toward the center post. She stopped him when his shoulder blades and ass hit it. The impish look became a studied one as she ran her hands down his arms, fingers lingering in appraisal of the musculature in his biceps. Her eyes lighted with what was unmistakably female appreciation, but at a blatant level uncharacteristic for her, like a woman at a male strip joint. Matt raised his brows, bemused when he started to raise his arms to touch her and she shook her head.

Dropping her touch to his wrists, she stepped closer, pressing his arms behind him, guiding his fingers to wrap around the pole.

“There,” she purred. “You’re bound with chains, unable to move.” Her eyes on his, she pressed her mouth to his chest, her tongue teasing over his nipple and firing his blood.

“Savannah,” he growled, and that look in her gaze increased.

“Maybe, if the roles had been reversed,” she continued in that same sultry tone, “I would have been the conquering queen, you the captured warlord brought before me.”

“If you’d been in charge of that army instead of your father, it’s possible.” He cocked his head. A submissive he most definitely wasn’t. No more than she was a Domme. But intrigued by this unexpected development, he took a step back into the waters of fantasy, for her.

“And when I’m brought before you, the moment I see you, all thought of escape leaves me,” he said, still in that semi-growl. “I realize the castle means nothing. The woman is the real prize. Serving her. Making her happy. I know if she keeps talking to me in that cock-stroking voice, I’ll come, just from listening to her.”

Her cheeks pinkened and she fanned her fingertips out over his chest, caressing the coarse dark hair, the taut nipple, the layers of muscle over his ribs and abdomen, following them down to the waistband of the trousers. She played with the loosened laces coyly, wrapping one around a finger and tugging it.

His incomparable sub was a multi-tasker. Even as she was doing that, she was plotting her next move. Recovering the chain attached to the pole, the one he’d used to tether her there earlier, she pressed flush against him to wrap it around his wrists by touch alone. He still was clasping the pole, but with her touching him, it was hard not to try and tangle with her fingers, but he resisted the urge as she tucked the end of the chain in to hold it in place. He could easily get free, but he wouldn’t. Not when she was overwhelming his senses, becoming the provocateur.

Her lush lower lip caught in a distracting way beneath her teeth, she slid her hands back down his chest, along his arms, his sides. Her fingers dipped into the low riding, unlaced waistband of the trousers again. She loosened the laces further, so the pants cradled his cock and balls in an open nest of fabric. Lifting her chin to gaze into his face, she rubbed the tips of her breasts against his chest, a light brush of contact. Her other hand went back to his biceps, nails biting into the flesh, hard. The heated flicker of her gaze registered the flex of muscle as he tested the thin chains.

“Savannah,” he said, a threat.

“My lord?” She murmured it as she reached down to stroke his cock with featherlike fingertips. Her lips parted. “All mine,” she whispered, heat in her eyes. “All for me. I can have and take whatever I want.”