I lock her wrists to the headboard, one click too tight.
She moans like I just slid inside her.
I strip slow.
Let her see the control. Let her feel it.
And then I crawl over her, press my mouth to her ear. “Scream my name all you want, Juliet. No one’s going to save you from this.”
She arches, wrists pulling taut, lips parted on a gasp.
My name, broken on her tongue.
That’s the moment I know I’ve got her.
And I’m not giving her back.
Her wrists are cuffed. Ankles open.
Heels still on.
Lipstick smudged. Hair wild.
And she’s looking at me like I’m the crime scene she wants to crawl inside.
“God, look at you,” I say, running my hands down her arms, tracing every exposed inch. “You’re fucking perfect like this.”
She stretches against the cuffs.
The links rattle like music.
“Touch yourself,” I say.
She doesn’t move. Just raises an eyebrow, cocky. “Hard to, when you’ve got me locked down.”
I grin, slow and dark. “Exactly. Which means you’re going to have to beg.”
She tests the cuffs again.
Moans, low.
I drag my mouth down her body, biting as I go.
Shoulder, breast, stomach.
She’s already flushed, already arching for more.
I spread her legs wider.
Bury my mouth between her thighs.
Her legs lock around my head.
I pin her open with my forearm and eat her like the case depends on it.
She thrashes.
The cuffs bite into her wrists.
