Wicked Burn(22)

Niall gasped in the throes of a sharp arousal that quickly accelerated to an agony. She threaded her fingers into his thick hair, then pressed her fingertips to his neck. She couldn’t get enough of his texture or the fierce heat that always seemed to resonate from his body. She spread her thighs wide . . . inviting him . . . begging him to put her out of her misery.

But as she was rapidly discovering, Vic went strictly by his timetable when it came to making love.

She made a startled sound of protest when he shifted off her suddenly and she was deprived of his elemental heat. He stood and grabbed his discarded jeans off the floor, roughly whipping the supple leather belt through the loops. Niall’s eyes widened when he came back on the bed with the strap held in his hand.

“Grab one of the posts on the headboard.”

“W . . . Why?” she asked, her eyes wide with anxiety.

“I’m going to tie you up. I want you completely at my mercy.”

He was curious as to how she would respond. Although he’d just spoken the truth, it wasn’t the only reason he was going to tie Niall up. The fact was that her small hands on his body, her hungry, sensitive touch, drove him nuts. He’d been enjoying himself nibbling and licking and kissing her beautiful body. He couldn’t wait to get on with the feast of the rest of her tasty, silky skin, not to mention his juicy, luscious dessert—Niall’s *. But twenty seconds of her fingernails scraping his scalp, of her sensitive fingertips skimming along his neck, and her palms molding the muscles of his shoulders had turned Vic’s cock into a stiff, straining spear, thoroughly eager to be sheathed in her tight * all over again.

Vic would be the first to say he liked the idea of tying her up. He liked it a lot. But he demanded it now for his own control as much as for hers.

Niall wondered in rising anxiety if it really was possible for one’s heart to stop altogether, because that sure was what it seemed like when Vic calmly told her that he wanted to tie her up.

I want you completely at my mercy.

She’d never done anything like that before in bed, although she had admittedly fantasized about it dozens of times over the past week and a half. Maybe it was because of the way Vic had held her wrists so securely that first time while he’d played her clit expertly, forcing her body to experience shattering pleasure before he f*cked her * like it was his to do with as he pleased.

Niall had to bite her lip to refrain from moaning out loud at the impact of that forbidden thought.

Her eyes lowered to the brown strap that was bunched in his hand and immediately flickered over to his jutting penis. She longed for the sensation beneath her fingertips of the swollen veins that ran under the taut, smooth skin. She hungered for the feeling of the tapered, thick cap in her throat . . .

Heat flushed her sex and face.

He would give her his touch. He would eventually give her his tasty cock if she agreed to what he wanted. She swallowed convulsively and reached for the bedpost.

She might as well grimace and bear it.

Her eyes stayed fixed on his cock when he lunged forward on the bed. It bobbed less than a foot away from her face, teasing her. When she felt him twist his belt around her wrists several times, however, pulling them comfortably but still tightly to the bed-posts, she pulled her gaze off the arousing sight of his cock.

“Oh!” she murmured in surprise when instead of buckling the supple leather, he tied it into a taut knot with sure hands and bunching biceps that seemed to shout loud and clear that Vic knew exactly what he was doing. Was that because of his background with horses or because he was used to tying a woman up in bed? Niall fought rising anxiety. She had vaguely imagined that her restraint would be more for show than anything if she could merely use her fingers to unfasten the buckle in a panic situation.

But as she ran her fingers clumsily over the impossibly tight knot and jerked down with her wrists, Niall was forced to admit that she really was at Vic’s mercy.

Her eyes flickered up to his face. He was kneeling over her, six feet and several inches of lean, hard man. Her gaze skimmed across his powerful thighs dusted with black hair and lingered on his penis. Had it grown and stiffened in the last few seconds since he’d tied her up? It looked ruddy, ready . . . and, in truth, downright intimidating from this angle.

Vic resisted a powerful urge to touch himself when he saw the whites of Niall’s large eyes as she stared at him. He had another urge, a darker one, to straddle her chest and give her one hell of a face f*cking. She looked incredibly lovely lying there—his little captive—sexy, aroused, and just a bit anxious about what was going to happen next . . .

“Niall,” he said. He waited until she stared into his face.

“Do you trust me?”

Niall looked into his piercing gray eyes. Something seemed to pass between them, something beyond a mutual message of profound, distilled lust. She nodded quickly.

The shadow of a smile pulled at Vic’s thin, well-shaped lips.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now spread your thighs nice and wide.”

His nostrils flared like a feral animal’s when she complied and he saw firsthand just how flexible Niall was. He realized he’d never had her open her shapely thighs wide for him, so he’d never known until now just how good she was at doing it. His cock throbbed greedily at the sight of her naked, spread-eagled, and tied to his bed. He couldn’t wait to get between those silky thighs.