“That one?”
I tested it. There was no pinching or undue tightness, but the reality ofbothof my hands rendered useless above my head sent my heart fluttering.
“Perfect.”
“And your shoulders? Nothing aches?” Even as I felt myself sinking into dazed, sensual fervor, I fought to consider my shoulders.
“No, no pain.”
Assured of my comfort, Xander traced intoxicating lines along my chest and stomach. “I finally found the benefit to your long cricket limbs.”
The laugh escaped my chest in a single huff.
But then, arresting chocolate eyes found mine and mirth was the farthest thing from my mind. “In twenty minutes, whenyou’re begging, I want you to remember that you asked for this. You chose me. You were made for this, for me.”
“Xander?”
“Do you remember that first time in the shed?”
“Vividly.” Every moment with Xander was etched in my memory—always.
“You’ll remember this vividly too. Now, I need a word for you to say if you wish to stop.”
“Snuffbox,” I supplied with almost no thought. “But I won’t wish for you to stop.”
He raised a brow at my choice but said nothing. Instead, he located the oil from atop his trunk. I used the opportunity to lick a stripe along his side while he was close.
When he pulled back, it was with a reproachful look and a familiar vial in hand. The clink of the stopper pulling free—a signifier of ecstasy to come—now drew blood to my cock.
Slowly, Xander trailed a stream of oil over my prick. For a brief second, it was cool before warming with my flesh. Again my cock danced at the sound of the stopper knocking against the neck of the bottle.
My lungs worked too quickly, and half-heartedly, I was left lightheaded with needy anticipation.
Finally, after an eternity, Xander set the oil beside the bed and drew a feather light fingertip along the line of my cock.
Thoughtless, my hand went to reach for his, to curve his palm around my member. When the cravat snapped against my wrist, it took a moment for understanding to burn through the fog of lust.
Xander’s smile was pleased in response to my whimper. “I’ve barely begun, and look at you. Already weeping for me,” he murmured as he caught the bead of liquid that escaped my cock.
He brought that finger up to my lips, then dipped it inside when they opened on an astonished gasp. I was intimatelyfamiliar with his taste, but I’d never experienced my own. As I swirled my tongue obscenely around his finger—aiming to tempt the man—I could only wonder what we tasted like together.
Christ, he’d made a deviant of me. I’d never had such thoughts before Alexander Hasket had shown me pleasure beyond my wildest imaginings. Now I was depraved, feral, desperate. If there was something Xander could do to or with me that wouldn’t leave me begging for more, I didn’t know the name of it.
He pulled his finger free, grumbling, “Later,” when I chased after it.
My lower abdomen clenched at the thought of his graveled promise. “Like this?” I shrugged so there was no mistaking my meaning.
“Yes.”
Apparently having tired of teasing, Xander’s mouth found my cock, taking me to the hilt in one practiced swallow.
Both hands jerked against the restraints, frantic for the grounding touch I’d become so accustomed to. His hands, his hair, anything to keep myself tethered to earth. But he’d already done the tethering. Xander had ensured I wasn’t going anywhere. No, I was left to watch, helpless, breathless, as he inflicted unendurable pleasure upon me.
The sounds ripped from my chest were pathetic, whiny, and all his. He slid a hand up to tweak a nipple and my hands shook in their bindings. My hips circled in a relentless search for more, harder, too much, too fast, not enough. It wasn’t until the fifth time he backed off when I thrust forward that understanding dawned.
“You’re a cruel monster.”
He pulled off my cock with a soft pop leaving it cold and lonely. “You’ve just now made that discovery?” With a prowling, cat-like grace, he climbed the length of me to cup my cheek.“You’re not in charge here. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be on you.” The tenor with which he delivered the devastating line was a soft, sensual, teasing caress of my mind.
