Seducing The Enemy - Shayla Black Page 0,14

the cuff. She’s gasping when I buckle her in, sliding my fingers underneath to ensure she still has adequate blood flow.

When I’m satisfied, I reach for her other foot.

She jerks it out of my grasp, biting her lip, “Jett…”

I shake my head. “You’ve heard the rumors about me. I’ve given you plenty of proof they’re true. So don’t act surprised. I won’t hurt you, but I want you completely open to me. You agreed to submit to my every whim this week. I’m waiting.”

This is normally where I would give my partner a safe word, but Whitney would only use it to escape her mental discomfort. I won’t put her in physical peril enough to need to speak at all except a gasping, screaming plea.

In fact, I look forward to it.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes…Sir.”

“That’s right. Now give me your foot.” I hold out my hand. In the other, I’ve already gathered the cuff.

Whitney stares at me. I sense her fear. And I smell her desire. She’s confused and she doesn’t understand her reaction.

I simply smile.

Slowly, she slides her free leg in my direction, then places her dainty instep in my palm.

Without any haste at all, I buckle her in and step back. And I stare at the banquet of female spread out before me. My mouth waters.

Since it’s wiser for me to keep my pants on—at least for now—I shuck my shoes, then crawl onto the bed, hovering over her. I study her delicate face.

I remember when I thought I’d be the luckiest bastard in the world if I could just call her mine. It’s been eight years, two continents, and too many meaningless fucks later. Goddamn it if I don’t still think that having her, even just for the week, will make me a lucky bastard.

Whitney looks nervous. “Are you leaving my hands free?”

“For now.” Unless she gives me a reason not to.

When she nods, it takes everything inside me not to give in to my urge to soothe and reassure her. Instead, I dip my head and take her mouth in a demanding kiss. Fuck if I don’t have the urge to stay at her soft, bee stung lips and feast. There’s something so delectable about them. The top bow tempts. The bottom pout lures. How can I not want her?

But there’s more—a lot more—I haven’t touched in what seems like forever.

“These breasts. Hmm…” The words slip out. I’m so busy staring at her swells and the dark nipples tipping them that I don’t even realize I’ve spoken.

“I’ve changed since I was sixteen.”

“For the better,” I murmur as I open my lips to her neck and taste her skin.

She tips her head back and offers me her vulnerable throat. Absently wondering if she understands the unconscious trust she’s giving me, I skim my mouth down her flesh, kissing the pounding pulse point at her neck, tonguing the swells of her breasts, and nipping my way to her hard, tempting crests.

I remember her being sensitive…but it was a long time ago, and I was the first man to touch them. Thankfully, when I catch one of her nipples between my thumb and finger and pull, her body tightens. Her breathing stutters.

Fuck, she’s still incredibly responsive to my touch. I shouldn’t let that arouse me more, but I gorge on the visual feast of her arching and sucking in a sharp breath as sensation hits her. Need flares through me unchecked.

Again, I pluck at her tender peak, gratified by the way she grips the bedding and stares up at me like she wants to control her body…and she can’t.

“Do you want me to suck your nipples?”

I pinch her hard tip again, rolling and thumbing it without mercy. She swallows and presses her lips together. “Do what you want. You’re going to anyway.”

“Answer me.” When she doesn’t, I plant my knees on either side of her hips and take both nipples in my grip, manipulating them simultaneously. “I can do this all night, Whitney, until you’re willing to beg me for relief. If you force me to, how much mercy do you think I’ll have?”

She tosses her head back and closes her eyes as if she’s trying to shove me out of her reality. But we both know I won’t let her.

“None,” she pants.

“That’s right. Last time I’ll ask. Do you want me to suck them?”

“No matter what I say, you’ll undo me.”

The crying catch in her voice flips more than my libido. “Yes, so you’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

“I hate you.”

That