Sinful Desire (Sinful Nights, #2)(27)

And gushed.

Oh God. She was so f*cking liquid. She was so immeasurably turned on from all these new feelings crashing into her, colliding inside her body in sweet, filthy bliss. Her eyes fluttered closed as the sharp sting rippled through her. He rubbed his palm against her rear to erase the pain, and she whimpered at the quick shift from harsh to gentle.

Then she moaned loudly, because his hand was inside her panties.

“I need to know if you love it like I do,” he said, and his fingers glided across the evidence. He groaned appreciatively.

“I do,” she said. “I do, I do, I do.”

“Yes, you f*cking do,” he said, sliding his expert fingers over her, touching her bare flesh, feeling her heat. She shuddered as he slid his fingers through all that wetness, then once again as he landed a biting slap on her rear. Heat pooled between her legs from the hit, turning her into an inferno. Sophie was learning that all her fantasies, all her dreams, all her wild imaginings of pain and pleasure were not only coming true, but she liked it.

No, she loved the mix of hurt and heat, of a sharp sting and a hot kiss. The evidence was on his fingers.

He gripped her hips and lifted her off him, laying her flat on her back again on the plush leather seats of the limo. She vaguely wondered where they were on the Strip, but she didn’t care enough to sneak a peek out the window, not with her body vibrating with this intense need to be touched.

“Where’s your purse?” he asked, glancing around.

She furrowed her brow, thrown off by the odd question. “My purse? It’s over there,” she said, pointing to the other side of the long car and the bench where she’d left her bag.

He stretched out and grabbed it.

“Why do you need my bag?”

“Do you trust me?” he countered, running his thumb along the slim strap of her purse.

She hardly knew him. But she’d already let him spank her, so she supposed in the context of the situation, the answer was that she did. The car slowed in traffic as she gave him her one-word answer.

“Yes.”

His lips curved in a small smile, and he dropped a quick kiss on the hollow of her throat. Then he grabbed her wrists, held them together, and positioned them above her head, so she was stretched out. He wrapped the purse strap around her wrists. When she turned her head to the side she realized what he was doing. He was tying the strap on her wrists to the seat belt buckle. Next he reached for the hem of her skirt and gently adjusted it over her ass. She wasn’t sure why he was covering her backside, until he tugged her legs while ensuring her punished ass didn’t rub against the leather. He pulled her along the seat, making her arms go taut. She’d become a straight line under his control, bound to his choices, yet somehow safe in his arms.

The prospect electrified her. All the planning and decisions and choices she managed all day long disappeared with this kind of letting go.

She breathed harder, lust and desire pent up inside her.

He kneeled at her feet on the end of leather seat, his hands wrapped around her ankles. “I want to tie these gorgeous feet up, too.” He bent his head to her legs, dusting the bare skin of her calf with a kiss. Her hips shot up.

“Oh God, please touch me,” she cried out.

He turned to her other leg, kissing her there, too, then biting down on her flesh.

“I can’t f*cking resist,” he said, and grabbed her panties, yanking them hard down her legs. “I want your hands and your feet tied. Say you want it, too.”

“I do, I do,” she said quickly, the words spilling out.

With arms that moved like lightning, he had her pink lace at her ankles, and he turned the fabric in a knot, twisting the delicate lace. “I’ll buy you new ones. Just like this. Because these are so f*cking hot I have to tie you with them.

“Please tie me up,” she said, squirming now, her body so damn desperate for his touch. “I don’t care about the panties.”

He finished his work on her ankles, and raised his head to meet her eyes. “You’re so gorgeous, Sophie,” he said, raking his eyes over her body. She was still fully clothed in her black blouse and pink skirt and black strappy shoes, but everything was in disarray and she didn’t care one bit. He ran his hands up her legs, caressing the soft skin on the inside of her thighs.

“Look at you. So ready for me. So ready for however I’m going to take you,” he said in a low, dirty growl. He reached the apex of her thighs, his thumbs brushing against her slick folds.

She gasped at his touch. “Take me,” she whispered.

He was on all fours, bent over her, his face near her hot center, her trussed-up feet under his knees.

“Open your thighs as far as you can,” he told her, and she did as commanded, parting her legs for him. In that position, she couldn’t spread them in a V; instead she opened into a diamond as one knee hit the side of the seat, the other the bottom.

“I love how turned on you get,” he said as his gaze returned to the center of her world. She ached. An exquisite, needy ache. He dragged one finger through her wetness, then brought that finger to his mouth. His eyes floated closed as he sucked off her taste, moaning as if she were his dessert.

“That’s so hot,” she whispered, burning up all over from watching him savor her, from waiting for him to make contact.

He opened his eyes, breathing hard through his nostrils as he licked his lips. “I want to hear you reach those high notes this time. I want you to shout and scream my name. Tell me to taste you. Say it. I want to watch those sexy red lips say it.”