Her body arches into mine, soft curves pressing against hard angles, her nipples hard points against my chest even through our clothes. I walk her backward until her ass hits the edge of the table, my hands sliding down to cup her perfect bubble ass and lift her up against me.
“Fuck, I missed you,” she gasps when I finally release her mouth to drag my lips down her neck. Her hands find my hair, tugging me back up to her mouth. “Speaking of which, what’s my surprise? And why are we at the Leone Room when it’s still closed?”
I lean back just enough to study her face—flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, lips already swollen from my kisses. Beautiful. Perfect. Mine.
“How do you feel about playing today?” I ask, one hand tracing the edge of her crop top, fingers just brushing the underside of her breast.
Her breath catches, and I watch her eyes darken with understanding. “What kind of playing?”
“The kind that involves this table.” I tap the wood beneath her. “And you. And me making you scream until you forget your own name.”
Instead of answering, she pulls me back for another kiss, this one desperate and hungry, her tongue sliding against mine in a filthy promise of what’s to come. When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. I trace my thumb over her bottom lip, feeling it tremble beneath my touch.
Her eyes meet mine, clear and steady. “I’m all yours, Firestarter.”
I smile, slow and predatory. “Yes, you fucking are.”
The sturdy table with leather cuffs attached to each corner has already been adjusted for her size. She hesitates for just a second.
“Handcuffs,” she whispers.
And, fuck me, now I feel like the dumbest person alive. How did I not consider this might be a trigger for her? “Is that okay?” I rasp.
Raven looks up at me, her lips curving into a smile that’s pure sin. “With you, everything is okay,” she answers honestly. “I trust you.”
“Good,” I reply, my voice husky.
Her breath hitches as my fingers find the knot holding her skirt closed. One tug and it comes undone, the fabric parting to reveal a white lace thong that’s gone the next second. My cock throbs painfully against my zipper at the sight.
“Arms up,” I command, and she complies immediately, allowing me to pull the crop top over her head in one smooth motion.
She’s not wearing a bra. Of course she isn’t. Her perfect breasts are bare, nipple piercings catching the light, making my mouth water with the need to taste her. But patience is key to what I have planned.
“Get on the table,” I tell her, helping her climb up and lie back on the smooth wood. “Arms above your head.”
Her eyes hold mine as she obeys, stretching her arms toward the head of the table, her back arching slightly in the process. The position pushes her breasts up, making them look even more perfect.
I secure her wrists with the leather cuffs, checking that they’re tight enough to hold her but not so tight they’ll hurt her already damaged skin.
“Spread your legs for me, Little Thief.”
She hesitates, just for a second—not in fear, but in playful defiance that makes my cock twitch. “Make me.”
I smile, slow and dangerous, and grab her ankles. “As you wish.”
I pull her legs apart roughly, securing each ankle to a corner of the table until she’s completely spread-eagled before me, vulnerable and exposed. Her pussy lips are already swollen and glistening, a detail that sends a surge of possessive pride through me.
“Look at you,” I murmur, running one finger along the inside of her thigh, watching goosebumps rise in my wake. “Already wet for me.”
She licks her lips, eyes darkening. “I’m always wet when you’re around,” she admits with a moan.
“Do you want to be blindfolded or watch what I’m going to do to you?” I ask, wanting her to decide.
Her breath comes faster now, chest rising and falling rapidly. “What are you going to do?” she whispers.
I don’t answer. Instead, I uncap the bottle of oil—specially formulated for what I have in mind—creating a barrier between her skin and the heat while still allowing her to feel every sensation.
The liquid warms in my palms before I begin applying it to her shoulders, working my way down with slow, methodical movements.
