Page 87 of The Devil's Pawn

Bending his head, he captures one nipple in his mouth and sucks. My back arches.

“God,” I breathe.

“No, sweet girl. The Devil.” He flashes me a smile loaded with wicked intent before sucking on the other nipple.

I need him. I need to have my first experience of sex done, over with, but Alexander is taking his time. He hasn’t even undressed yet. I reach down and pop the button on his jeans, but I don’t get as far as unzipping him. He stops what he’s doing and sits up.

“Hmm, are restraints needed, Little Pawn?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Striding into the bathroom, he returns with a belt from my robe.

Breathless at the idea of him tying me up, yet frustrated at the lack of control, I shake my head. “You said you were going to… fuck me.”

“And I am.” He straddles me again, locking my legs in place. “You say the word, and I’ll remove these. Understand?”

When I nod, he wraps the belt around one wrist, then captures the other and loops it around there, too. Within seconds, my arms are over my head, fastened to the headboard.

“When?”

He smiles at my impatience. I growl in frustration, and his smile widens.

“My, my, what a demanding little pawn.” He kisses me, but it’s not enough to douse the flames. “It’s your first time, Imogen. If you’re not well prepared, it’ll hurt more than itneeds to.”

“What if I want it to hurt?” I don’t. I hate pain, but I hate this interminable waiting more.

He cants his head. “Do you? Is that what you want? For me to shove my dick inside you before you’re ready?”

“I am ready.”

He scoots down the bed, pushing my legs as wide as they’ll go. If I wasn’t so desperate for him to get on with it, I’d be embarrassed, especially with the way he’s staring at my most intimate parts as though it’s a delicious meal, and he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“Let’s see.” He runs two fingers through my folds. When he withdraws, they’re glistening with my arousal. Sliding first one, then the second into his mouth, he cleans them. It’s erotic and dirty, and I want him to do it again. I’dpayhim to do it again, not that he needs the money.

Focus, Imogen.

“I told you I was ready.”

The shock when he thrusts two fingers inside me pushes the air from my lungs. I cry out at both the unexpected intrusion and the sting.

“My dick is a lot bigger, Imogen. You want to reconsider your position?”

Sassy me makes a momentary comeback by replying with, “You’re an asshole.”

Alexander throws back his head and laughs, and it’s such a rare and glorious sight that I can’t stop staring.

“There’s my wife.” This time, when he eases his fingers out of me, he presses them to my lips. “Suck.”

I open for him, rolling my tongue around them, tasting the sweet, faintly musky smell of my arousal. He expels a soft breath, his eyes momentarily closing.

“That feels good.”

Removing his fingers, his large hands cup my cheeks, and his expression turns from teasing to serious. “Let me take care of you. I want to make this good for you. Don’t fight me.”

I don’t know why, but a rush of tears fill my eyes. There’s a lot about Alexander that’s detached and, yes, sometimes unfeeling or thoughtless, yet he says things like that. He takes care of me with tenderness. He puts me and my comfort first. He’s a dichotomy I haven’t yet figured out, and I’m not sure I ever will.

“Okay.”

He takes my lips, exploring me at his leisure. Every time he’s kissed me, it’s different, yet each one curls my toes and liquifies my insides. His tongue strokes mine, curling, probing, demanding both my submission and my participation. Our breaths intermingle until I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.

Warm hands caress my skin, skimming over my ribcage, cupping my breasts, and he keeps on kissing me. I lose track of time, lost in him, in the tingles all over my body, the fluttering in my stomach, the heavy ache between my legs. The desperate yearning for release. He’s treating me as though I’m a queen, a goddess, someoneimportantin his life. It’s heady, unexpected, and addictive.

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