Tied to the Billionaire(73)

All at once his heat enveloped her, his masculine smell surrounded her, sending a bolt of lust straight to her cunt. “I’ve been waiting, pet.” His husky breath pelted against her nape. Then the world went black.

She lifted her fingers to her face, sliding along the smooth silk covering her eyes and blocking out the rest of the world. It always amazed her how the simple scrap of fabric could send her entire body flaming. Sometimes, when she was alone, she’d wrap a silk scarf around her eyes and touch herself, pretending it was his hands on her, his touch commanding her response.

“Do you remember your safe word, pet?” He wrapped his hand around her nape, strong and warm. Her entire body sank into his touch.

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it for me.” His breath whispered against her neck. His strong presence and heat pressed against her back.

“Bingo.”

Her whole body shook at the whispered word, a hot shiver skating down her spine as it always did when he made her recite her safe word before each play session, to be sure she knew it and could say it. Though she’d never needed to. He always kept her safe, hovering on the edge of her boundaries, but never beyond them.

“Good, pet.”

Grabbing both her wrists, he pulled them behind her back to meet at the base of her spine. With quick, dexterous movements that still managed to surprise her after years of enjoyment, he slid a rope around both her wrists and knotted them together. She squirmed a bit in the hold, testing to see how tight he’d knotted her in place. She knew her Master well, and his skill with knots was formidable, yet she always tried to slip free. She needed to know she couldn’t.

“Tight enough, pet?” He laughed in her ear. She nodded. Her shoulders had already started to pain her from the strained angle. Her muscles would be screaming by morning. Her heart pounded a little harder in anticipation, impatient for the lasting pain of her Master’s hold, the invisible grip following her throughout her day. “Good.”

He wrapped his hands around her face, holding her tightly enough that she could feel the power in his hands but not enough that he’d leave marks. Not on her face at least. He pulled her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair, and yanked her lips to his.

His kiss was hard, demanding. Her entire body sagged, allowing him admission, her heartbeat soaring at the possession in his touch. His tongue slid into her mouth, exploring her lips, her teeth, her cheeks, with a relish and mastery that declared in no uncertain terms that all he touched was his. And she gladly accepted. She was his. Every part of her. His to take and do with as he pleased.

Her lungs screamed for oxygen, but the taste of her Master far outweighed such need. She only had a week. A week to enjoy every pleasure he had to offer before she returned to her life of spreadsheets and drafting programs. And she wasn’t about to relinquish a second of his lips on hers or his taste along her tongue. Not even for air.

When he pulled away, she was gasping, and from the rough breeze of his breath against her cheek, he was too. “I missed you, pet,” he whispered, so soft and low she almost couldn’t be sure he’d said it. The statement alone was so unlike her Master.

He pulled tight on her hair, snapping her head back and forcing her to attention. Even as tears pricked her eyes, a hot need coiled tight in her stomach. In one smooth motion he was back to the man she knew, the loving Master who controlled her entire being with ease.

He prowled around her, like a cat approaching its kill, coming to stand at her back. She clenched her thighs together, attempting to stem the ache throbbing between them. It wouldn’t work—it never did—but she couldn’t stop her body from searching for even a small reprieve from the overwhelming desire inside her.

“I see you remembered how I love silk.” He leaned on her shoulders, sliding down her chest and over the soft silk blouse she’d worn. His large palms kneaded her breasts, strong and commanding, demanding her response. Biting her lip to keep back a moan, she leaned into his touch. The friction of her thin lace bra beneath her shirt against her engorged nipples weakened her knees.

A whimper escaped her throat as his hand continued down her stomach, leaving her nipples throbbing and desperate. Damn it! She needed more. His palm skimmed her skirt, moving further away from where she desperately needed his hands and setting her heart racing.

He leaned closer, slipping his hand beneath her skirt. His hot fingers slid along the top of her stockings. “And lace.” A shiver skated down her spine at his soft touch, and wetness dripped between her legs.

His fingers stroked her inner thigh, slipping up her legs. His touch explored and commanded at the same time, and her entire body quivered.

“But you must have forgotten how I like you bare.” He pulled at the thong between her legs. The fabric stretched, putting excruciatingly amazing pressure upon her clit. The sensation shot out from her * to the rest of her body.

“I don’t like barriers.” He smacked her ass hard, and she jumped. The slap of his hand reverberated through the room, giving evidence to the strength of his spank. Not that she minded. She loved the heat, the vibrations along her nerves, the shape of his hand on her body long after their play. She hated to watch the marks, his marks, fade from her body once their week was over. How she wished they could be permanent, imprinted on her skin, to remain forever.

The rip of fabric rang through the room, and the cool hotel air feathered across her wet *. The light touch alone pushed her closer to climax. Lightheaded, her heart pounding in her chest, she spied her underwear tossed aside from the corner of her eye.