“And that’s a bad thing?”
“I don’t understand you.”
Lifting her hand, I kiss her knuckles and then press her hand over my heart. “Sure you do. I like you. I don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t do for you. You’re fuckingirresistiblein this dress, with all these pretty flowers showing, and I’d like to strap you down to that bench over there and fuck you until you’re screaming my name so loudly, every fucker in here knows that you’re mine.”
Her eyes flare. She doesn’t hate that idea.
“I thought you said you don’t like to be restrained.”
“I don’t.”
My eyes flick to the rope play happening behind her. “You like what he’s doing to her.”
“She’s not restrained,” she replies. “She can move her hands and feet.”
Lifting a brow, I spin her around, and she gasps as I press her back to my front. “He tied her hands. She’s absolutely under his spell, and she won’t be moving unless he allows it.”
I can’t help dragging my hand up her stomach to her breast and then back down again. Her breath is coming faster, and she’s leaning against me, whether she realizes it or not.
“What’s your favorite thing?” she asks.
“That’s a broad fucking question, Savage.”
“In this club,” she clarifies. “What’s yourthing?”
“My kink?”
She nods.
“That’s easy. You.”
Her gaze whips up to mine, her pretty eyes wide in surprise.
Now, I’m not going to lie. Iliketying a woman down. I enjoy domination mixed with a little bit of pain and a whole lot of pleasure.
But if she’s not into it, I won’t do it. Never again.
“Are you a voyeur?” I ask her, nibbling my way down her jawline.
“I don’t . . . know.”
She’s amazing in bed, but this is new for her, and I love that I’m the one showing it to her. “Let’s find out.”
I turn us so we can both see the whole room. There’s a lot of fucking going on here.
“Look at the way he’s got his husband bent over the end of that chaise,” I tell her, running my hands through her hair. “And over there, he has to be pretty fucking strong to keep her in the air like that, eating her out, even if she’s leaning against the pillar.”
She swallows hard, but her brows pull together.
“I’m not so sure that watching is your thing.”
Her eyes move up to meet mine, and she keeps frowning. “I’m not a prude.”
“You’re absolutelynota prude,” I confirm. “I have personal experience with you.”
And the memory of the way she tastes, the way she feels when she’s strangling my cock, makes me impatient to feel her wrapped around me again.
“Why do you own this?” she asks, which takes me off guard for a millisecond, and then I remember that she thinks this is mine.
