Page 32 of Suspicion

Both were a means to an end.

He certainly never judged a woman for her carnality, but then he hadn’t contemplated either for years.

Until Ella.

“You realize how delicious you are, I assume?” He meant it, too. No woman he remembered could rival her.

Her breaths were irregular as his fingers skimmed back down along her bra strap.

“And now I have you here.” It was scintillating to admit it out loud. “All mine, and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”

“Uck oo.” Hissing the offense as best she could around the gag, her nostrils flared.

“Well, yes.” His smile grew as he deciphered her sentence. Without the use of proper consonants, Ella wasn’t easy to discern, but her pointed glare conveyed her meaning. “We might come to that, but I’m an old-fashioned type of man, Ella, and I was taught to take things slowly with a woman.”

Leaning closer, he breathed in the scent of her, the sweet and no-doubt expensive aroma of the lotions she used taunting him. She twisted her head to defy his intimacy, running her feet backward as far as the ropes allowed.

“You’re lovely.” Reaching around her body, the hand at the small of her back encouraged her to resume her original place. She went with her usual battle, a growl he assumed to be anger escaping her throat as she was manhandled into position. “But you need to behave. Let me see if I can help you to.”

He released his grasp on her, his hands traveling to her front and skimming over the silky cups of her bra. She mewled at the scandal, her body squirming in a pathetic challenge to his authority, but he didn’t know why.

There was only ever going to be one outcome, and that was his.

Waiting until her nipples beaded with enthusiasm once more, he caught the sensitive teats between his thumbs and forefingers, holding her gaze as he applied pressure.

“Oooo!” Her squeal was frantic, her feet running on the spot, although there was nowhere she could go. The fetters ensured she remained at his mercy while the gag suppressed her complaints to mere moans and whimpers.

“Yes.” He breathed the word, pinching her buds harder and conscious of the way his cock sprung to life at the stimulus.

Fuck.

If her tits could achieve so much arousal with only a few grasping touches, he couldn’t fathom how much pleasure he’d derive from her entire body.

“Stop trying to fight me.” His words were soft as he released the pressure.

Her gaze fell to assess the damage, but naturally, no evaluation was possible while her breasts stayed smothered in their silk prison.

“You won’t win.”

Determined to aid her mission and keen to witness the spectacle of her nudity himself, he clutched the edge of the pretty underwear and ripped it from its strap. She shrieked as the silk succumbed, her eyes wild with horror at the violation.

Tucker only acknowledged her ire briefly, his focus flitting at once to the object of his desire. Her right breast hung free from the remnants of her bra, her flesh goosing as he brushed a knuckle over the mound.

“So beautiful.” There was genuine awe in his voice as his attention turned to the other cup.

He didn’t need to tear it as he had the first. In fact, there had been no necessity to destroy either, but something about the temptation she’d brought into his life inspired the ferocity. His lips curled as the flimsy fabric also gave way to his might. The silk dangled limply from the underwiring as his hands moved to replace both cups.

Grasping the weight of her breasts, he was alive with sensation. When Bennett had first proffered his only daughter as a warranty, Tucker had been less than impressed. He hadn’t wanted the headache of another person, let alone a spoiled brat like a Bennett. But towering beside her, he realized he was grateful. Without her father’s intervention, he’d have never met Ella, would never have talked, touched, or trussed her. He’d never have felt the visceral electricity that raced through his blood as he fondled her.

He had every reason to offer Bennett his thanks.

One day, he would let him know.

“Urgh!” Lurching back against her ropes, Ella freed herself of his grasp and slammed her boot into the ground, narrowly avoiding his foot.

“Bad girl.” Wagging his finger at her, he hauled her back into place. Her breaths came faster as she struggled to deny him, but in the end, his strength won out.

He was bereft to no longer enjoy the feel of her firm, intoxicating body but more vexed that she still insisted on resistance. Deep down, he acknowledged it was wrong to take what didn’t belong to him, but that voice was easily subdued by the knowledge that Ella did. Her own father had staked her as surety. She was as much Tucker’s as the barn they were standing in.

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