"God, yes."
"Tell me."
"I want my hands on you. Everywhere. I want my mouth on you. I want to make you scream for me.”
Heat pooled low in my belly. But I kept my voice level.
"Maybe. If you're good."
I moved closer, breasts almost brushing his chest. His bound wrists jerked, wanting to reach. But he held still.
"Torture," he ground out.
"Is it?" I let my hand drift down my stomach, to my jeans. Slipped my fingers beneath the waistband. "Should I stop?"
"Don't. Green."
I unbuttoned slowly. Pushed the denim down over my hips. Stepped out, leaving just my panties.
His eyes tracked every movement. When I slid my hand inside my panties, touched where I was already wet, his hips jerked forward before he caught himself.
"Presley." My name came out strained.
"Let go," I told him. "Stop fighting. Give me this."
I watched him wrestle with it. Saw his shoulders drop slightly. His breathing even out. When he opened his eyes again, the guardedness had cracked.
"Better," I murmured.
I hooked my fingers in my panties and pulled them down. Stood bare while he watched.
Then I knelt.
I undid his jeans. Freed him. He was already hard.
I wrapped my hand around him, stroked from base to tip. His hips thrust forward before he caught himself.
"Stay still," I reminded him.
"Trying."
I took him in my mouth. Used my tongue along the underside, swirled the head, then deeper. His thighs jumped under my hands.
I worked him with my mouth and hands—pressure beneath the head that made him groan, hollowing my cheeks when I took him deep, pulling back to circle the tip with my tongue until his breathing went ragged.
"Presley." My name broke. "I need—"
"I know."
I took him deeper, used my hand on what I couldn't take, built the tension until his body went taut. Then I pulled back. Started slower.
His thighs shook. Sweat beaded his temple.
"Please," he finally said. Rough. Desperate.
I looked up. Saw surrender in his eyes. Saw him open to me like he'd probably never been with anyone.
I stood. "Come here."
