Page 123 of Against The Rules

And I haven’t even started to dance yet. I run my hands over my breasts, doing body roll after body roll, trying to tease him as best I can.

“Whoever told you you weren’t a sexy dancer was a fucking idiot.”

“Why’s that?” I say over my shoulder, pulling one bra strap off my shoulder. It’s purely for my own ego, because right now? I definitely feel sexy. The way Ty’s looking at me makes me feel powerful.

It feels really, really good, too.

“Because I am dying to get my hands on you. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

I pull my strap off my other shoulder, letting it hang loose on my arm. Slowly, I turn back around, bending over and then performing some certified hairography as I flip it back, unsnapping the front of the bra and leaving it on the floor behind me.

“Let me fucking touch you,” Ty pleads.

“Nope.” I can’t help the evil little laugh that comes out of me.

I walk closer to him, pulling my hair up with my hands, getting just close enough that he can brush his mouth over my nipples. He blows cold air over them, and I gasp a little, my steps faltering.

This is a fun time.

Carefully, because I don’t want Ty’s dining chair to go the way of my poor desk chair, may it rest in peace, I straddle him, rubbing my body along his like a cat.

He groans, lifting his hips, and I can’t help moaning at the sensation of his hard cock in his pants against the thin fabric of the barely there underwear.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

“So are you.”

I kiss him then, because even though it’s not a part of my plan, I can’t resist him for a moment longer.

“Am I allowed to touch you now?”

“Mmmm,” I hum. “I don’t know. I’m having fun.”

“It will be more fun when I tie you up.”

My heart skips a beat, and I get so wet I’m half-surprised I haven’t soaked his pants.

“I can tell you like that idea, Peaches.”

“Maybe I do.” My mouth’s barely apart from his, and in the next moment, his hand is around the back of my neck, possessive and hot.

“You weren’t supposed to touch me.” It’s a hoarse whisper, and I could care less. I want him to touch me.

“I’m going to fucking touch you everywhere, Peaches, and you’re not going to be able to do a thing about it.”

With that, he stands up, pulling me to him, his hand going between my legs.

I let out a strangled whine.

“Just what I thought, Savannah. You’re drenched.” Sure enough, his hand comes away glistening with moisture.

In the next second, he has me flat on my back on the dining room rug, pinning me under his big body as he ties my wrists together.

“That’s way tighter than I had yours,” I say.

“Is that a problem?” He loops it around the leg of the table, and I give it an experimental tug.

I’m not going anywhere.

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