Page 52 of The Fighter

Why do I like this? Why am I more turned on than I’ve ever been? I don’t know; I don’t understand. All I know is that desire rages inside me like an inferno. One touch from him, and I will combust.

Tomas walks to his dresser. When he appears in my line of sight, he’s holding a green silk tie in his hands. “I promised to tie you up,” he says, his voice rough. “And Ali, I always keep my promises.”

A thrill shoots through me. Yes.

I hold my wrists together as Tomas ties them together and then to the headboard. He has to lean forward on the bed to do it, and his cock bobs only a few inches from my lips. He’s intimidatingly large. Eight inches long and so thick that I don’t think my fingers will close around him. It sticks straight out, hard and flushed, bobbing as he works to knot me in place, and my mouth waters for a taste.

He finishes tying me to the headboard. “Can you move?” he asks. “Test them.”

The bonds aren’t tight enough that they’re cutting off circulation. I tug and flex my wrists, but I can’t free myself no matter how hard I try. Tomas watches me struggle, a smile in his eyes. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” he says, all cocky and confident. “I have you exactly where I want.”

“You’ve left my legs free,” I retort. “That’s a really bad idea.”

He laughs. “But I want you to fight back, Ali,” he says, his gray eyes gleaming. “That’s part of the game.” His expression turns serious. “Rules of the game. You say stop, and I’ll stop. If you don’t ask me to stop, I’m going to assume you don’t want me to.”

“No safe word?” I tease. “Pity. I’ve come up with a perfect one. Asset.”

His lips quirk at the reference to his stage name. “No safe word,” he says. “We’re not in Casanova; we’re in my bedroom. You ask me to stop, and I will. Okay?”

He’s waiting for my explicit consent. If he’s being so careful about making sure I’m on board with the rules, then he’s planning to be rough, really rough. And I can’t wait. “Okay,” I reply. “If I want you to stop, I’ll ask.” I lick my lips, anticipation making my body throb. “You want to fight? Me too. Show me what you’ve got.”

He doesn’t immediately respond. He stands at the side and stares at me, as if I’m a gift laid out for his approval. I look, too, my gaze greedy. Tomas’s suits do a good job camouflaging what’s underneath. Naked, his muscles are impossible to hide. I drink him in. He’s got tiger claws tattooed on his chest, along with a dragon sinuously draped around a faded scar. His stomach is hard, his abs chiseled. The first time I saw him, I thought he was male-model pretty. I was so wrong. Tomas hides who he is under his bespoke suits and his calm demeanor, and he doesn’t let people see him. I feel privileged to be the exception.

His fingers close around my ankle. I try to kick free, but his grip doesn’t slacken. “These toenails,” he says, a delicious growl in his voice. “These pretty pink toenails have been haunting my fantasies from the first moment I laid eyes on them.” He sucks my toe into my mouth, and a bolt of heat shoots straight to my core. “All fury and fire and these pretty pink toenails. So full of contradictions, cara mia, and I can’t wait to find them all.”

I’m burning up. This feels so sensual. So erotic. “I’m full of contradictions?” I manage to choke out. “What about you?”

“Pretty pink toes,” he continues, ignoring my words. “And a pretty pink pussy.” He lets go of my ankle and climbs on the bed, moving over me and wedging a knee between my thighs. He wants me to fight back? I’ll fight back. I part my legs slightly, and then I bring up my right knee to his groin. But even though I’ve tried to disguise it, he’s expecting my move, and his hand blocks my kick. “So predictable,” he says mockingly. “Is that the best you can do?”

“Fuck you.” My angry retort dies away in my throat as he rolls my engorged nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not gentle. A sharp burst of pleasure-pain shoots through me, and I suck in a breath.

“You were saying?” His mouth follows his finger, and he sucks my swollen nub into his mouth. “I didn’t pay enough attention to your nipples on Sunday,” he murmurs against my skin, his teeth grazing my tender flesh. Fresh heat fills my core. “A failure I intend to rectify.” He pinches and plucks and sucks until my entire body is throbbing, aching for more. My head falls back, desire coursing through my bloodstream, and he holds me down and trails a line of kisses down my throat.

I shudder and shiver and try to buck him off. He likes that. His eyes flash fire, and his mouth curves into a smile. “Have you forgotten I have sixty pounds on you, dolcezza? You’re not going anywhere.”

He’s right; I’m not. “If you’re so confident about that, why did you tie me up?”

He laughs. “I’m just enjoying the visual.”

He positions himself at the foot of the bed and lifts my hips up to his mouth. “All week, I’ve been waiting to do this again,” he says, his voice thick with anticipation. “And I intend to feast.”

My hips jerk as his fingers part my folds. His tongue meets my pussy. He savors. He feasts. There’s tongue and teeth on my clit and my lips. He tongue-fucks my opening and slides his fingers inside, searching for my G-spot, and all thought flees my brain. Nothing is left except searing hot pleasure.

He twists and turns his fingers until he finds that pad of flesh inside and presses down on it, sending a fresh wave of heat through me. I writhe as he licks and sucks with obvious abandon, my muscles clamping down on his fingers, a tight spiral building inside me. I’m close, really close. My nerve endings are on fire. Just a little more pressure from his insistent, maddening tongue, just one more thrust of his fingers…

He stops.

“No,” he says, wiping my juices from his chin. “Not today. Today, dolcezza, you’re going to come on my cock and not before.”

“No,” I yelp, almost screaming in frustration. I was almost there. I try and clamp my legs together, hoping the pressure will send me over the edge, but he stops me, his strong fingers wrapped around my ankles, preventing me from reaching the climax I crave. “It’s not fair.”

His eyes fill with dark promise. “We’re in my bedroom,” he says. “You don’t make the rules here.” He looms over me, a threat and a promise rolled into one. “Now, would you rather kick my cock or take it down your throat?”

My pulse pounds. “Down my throat,” I whisper.

“Say, please.”

Anticipation surges through my nerve endings. I don’t hesitate.

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