Page 32 of Riordan's Revenge

It was all I could do to hold on and try to follow his lead.

He tore his mouth away, breathing hard. “You drive me fucking crazy, Cassiopeia Archer.”

I couldn’t find the words to tell him it was the same for me.

But I found others. “The problem with ye telling me not to run again is the fact I know you’ll chase me.”

The water thundered down behind him.

He snarled a laugh. “Put your damn wrists out in front of you.”

I could’ve obeyed him, but where was the fun in that? Holding his gaze, I reached for the hem that flirted with my thighs and then stripped my dress. Moist air coated my hot skin.

Riordan’s focus slipped down to the lingerie I’d picked out earlier with him in mind, after I’d made myself come to a dirty movie while I’d imagined him listening. A matching set with a lacy red balcony bra. It pushed my boobs up in a scandalous fashion and revealed the circular surfer tattoo at my ribs.

His nostrils flared, and he marched to the bathroom door. For a horrible moment, I thought he was going to kick me out. But no. My black satin dressing gown hung on a hook. He whipped the belt off it and prowled back over, brandishing the rope.

“Wrists.”

This time, I obediently offered them up.

He bound them together efficiently, then grabbed a towel from the rail and tossed it to the floor. “Kneel.”

Slowly, I lowered to my knees, my head in line with the bulge in his jeans. A moment of panic washed over me. I didn’t know how to do this. Any of it. And I couldn’t use my hands either. I needed him to lead me through it. “You’ll have to tell me what to do. I don’t want to be bad at this.”

Riordan’s lip curled. Still holding the other end of the cord, he strung it over the towel rail on the wall behind me, then pulled. It lifted my arms above my head.

I squeaked in shock and found my balance, the cord holding me up as he tied a knot.

Riordan backed away. He cupped his bulge, anger still in every move. “You want this? Watch how you make me feel.”

Holding my gaze, he removed his shoes and socks, then undid his jeans and yanked them down, stepping out of both them and his black boxer shorts in one go. My heart thumped wildly at the sight of a fully naked Riordan, and I soaked in every inch of his flesh.

Mainly the significant inches between his legs.

His dick stood tall. It was big. Bigger than I’d guessed with a thick vein running the length. He was hard as a rock. Difficult to imagine fitting it in anywhere.

He stepped under the spray and tipped his head back so the water soaked his hair and slid down his form, darkening his ink.

Then he took his dick in his hand and held it, his heated gaze all over my breasts in my sexy bra. He stroked himself from root to tip, his mouth open in obvious pleasure.

I growled and tugged on the rope. “Let me go.”

“No. Watch what you can’t have.”

Pushing up on my heels, I tried to get my fingers to the knot. It was a weird angle. No matter how I wrenched at it, I couldn’t get it loose.

Fury descended.

I made a strangled sound of frustration and tried to stand. If I could get a good enough angle, I’d pull the damn rail off the wall. But I twisted and dropped, hanging from my wrists for a second before I righted myself.

A dark laugh came from Riordan, and I spun back around to scowl at him.

“That’s it, fight. Show me what you’d be like if I tied you up in a bed,” he goaded.

In his hand, his dick pulsed. I breathed hard, losing my momentum to stop struggling and stare. He was enjoying me being like this. I hated it. Badly, I wanted to join him. Touch him.

Which was exactly why he’d stopped me.

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