Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(46)

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Yes. Remind me.”

Polly ran her fingers around the back of his loosened waistband, barely caging a moan when Austin lifted his hips without question so she could tug down his pants, leaving him clad only in a white pair of boxer briefs. She could see right through them, and there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that Austin knew it. Knew she could make out every ridge of the erection pointing toward his muscled abdomen. He was extraordinary, in every sense of the word. His growled plea from the previous night came back to her, carried on a dark cloud of lust. Please yourself with me. My body. My cock. Own it all.

Confidence amplified, Polly ran a finger down his hard stomach, circling the fat head of his arousal, before tucking it under the material of his briefs. “Who owns all of this?”

His harsh exhale was directed at the ceiling. “You know you do.”

Polly scooted forward on her knees and kissed Austin’s erection through the white briefs, smiling when it swelled beneath her mouth. She ignored the way he widened his knees and offered himself to her, performing the same maneuver she’d done with his pants to remove the briefs, leaving him naked. The room was silent, save Austin’s breathing. Or maybe it was all she chose to hear, because it garnered all her attention. In, out, in, in, out. It sounded like a rainstorm to her ears. Second-guessing herself wasn’t an option as she looped the silk rope around the base of his erection. Once, twice. Even when the rainstorm cut out.

Complete silence reigned as she ran the rope alongside the chair. She wound each side once around the front corresponding chair leg, and walked on her knees to the other side, behind Austin. The muscles in his broad back rippled with awareness, his head turning to the side as if to watch her, although in her current position, she wasn’t visible to him. Polly retrieved one of two loose ends of the silk, using it to manacle Austin’s left hand with a secure knot, then doing the same with his right. When Polly had completed her task, she stared, a little disbelieving of the treatment she’d devised, but incurably excited by what was to come. Any movement of Austin’s hands—bound on either side of his hips—would cause the silk loops to tighten around his erection.

And she planned to make sure it moved. Thickened.

Polly stood, running her hands up Austin’s back—

The rainstorm started again, loud gusts of breath battering the room’s stillness. When she circled back around to the front of him, she saw that his eyes were glassy, the impressive flesh between his legs straining, made all the more prominent by the tight silk at his root.

“Don’t touch me just yet. It’s too much…having you look at me like that.” His right wrist moved, creating a corresponding reaction from the rope. He gritted his teeth to contain a groan as moisture beaded on the tip of his arousal. “Fuck, that’s good. You’re going to make it hurt so bad, though, aren’t you?” His eyelids lifted as though he’d been drugged, his gaze raking over her breasts, her lace-covered mound. “Every second of the day I’m not inside your body hurts. This is child’s play compared to what I’ve woken up with between my legs for the last six months.”

“You think so?” The question emerged sounding choked, a reaction to Austin’s intensity. To learn that she hadn’t been the only one waking up with an unmanageable yearning, far more prominent on days after she’d been in his presence. Empathy urged her to get back on her knees and make up for his end of the pain they’d both experienced. But a quick removal of his edge wasn’t what either of them wanted. Or needed.

It wouldn’t teach him the lesson she’d been tasked with delivering. She didn’t know if the delicious responsibility was a product of Austin’s guilt and her disapproval, only knew they would remain unfulfilled without her following through. And God, she didn’t have a choice. Her blood pumped; her hands felt weighted. He sat before her looking like a scorching-hot sacrifice. All for her.

Polly floated to the space between his legs, twisting her body in a slow dance, running light fingertips down her rib cage. “I’ve been waking up with the same problem. All…wet and needing to be filled up.” She pinched the sides of her lace panties and peeled them just below her damp center, gasping when Austin jerked in the chair. “You think we were touching ourselves at the same time?”

“I’ve thought about it.” His chest rose and shuddered back down. “I’ve thought about it all while abusing my dick to your image.”

God. She let the panties fall to her ankles, nudging them aside with one foot, before planting her hands on Austin’s shoulders and leaning in to speak inches from his mouth. “Be a good boy and tell me your favorite thing to think about.”

His gaze was trained on her breasts, so close to his mouth. So close. Polly eased nearer, letting her nipples hover just within reach, but when he tried to close his mouth around her, she moved back. Austin followed, the action sending the silk coiling tighter around his erection, ripping a vile curse past his lips. “Fuck. Fucking Christ.” Sweat broke out along his upper lip. “M-my favorite is flipping you upside down in one of those skirts. Bathing your * with my tongue while you attempt to choke me down. Your hands are on my ass, pulling me closer…and when you come for my mouth, I feel the reaction in your throat. Then—”

Thighs clenched together, Polly couldn’t get a proper breath, swaying on her feet under the impact of Austin’s vivid description of his fantasy. “Then?”