Page 62 of Broken Skulls

“I may have promised Jackson that I wouldn’t lock you in the room, but he never said anything about tying you up.”

Again, my body betrays me, showing him I’m at the very least intrigued. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for me to hide my emotions from him.

He lights a candle on the bedside table and then walks around me to shut the light off. When he presses himself against my backside, I suck in a quick breath.

“Shh. Nothing to be nervous about.”

Easy for him to say. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. He’s probably been with lots of women.

The thought makes my stomach hurt.

He marches us toward the bed at the same time lifting my shirt over my head. “Hands up,” he orders.

I raise them, but as soon as the cotton material slips over my fingertips, I drop my arms to cover myself. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me, but …

I know he has intentions of touching me this time.

When he drops to his knees behind me, my heart skips a beat. His mouth presses against the small of my back, and my eyes fall closed. His fingers curl around the waistband of my shorts. Wait. I guess they’re not mine, they’re his, but … oh …

As soon as the shorts fall to my ankles, his hands push against my back, making me fall forward. I brace my palms against the mattress, looking over my shoulder as soon as I’ve steadied myself.

“Jacob,” I rasp, my cheeks burning hot.

He looks at me over the apple of my ass as his tongue uncurls from his mouth. His face dips lower and … oh my god.

His tongue drags over me slowly, not stopping until he reaches my backdoor.

I start to pull away …

Jacob’s fingers dig into my hips, and he holds me still. “Let me make you feel good.”

He doesn’t give me time to argue.

Oh.

My god.

I’ve never …

I lose my balance, dropping my forearms to the mattress. He groans. “That’s it, baby. Get comfortable.”

After several minutes I begin to wonder if he knows what he’s doing. He keeps missing.Oh there, no, oh my god, just, right there, right there, no!!!

When he chuckles against my skin, I realize he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Jacob,” I pant.

He flips me onto my back. “I love the way you say my name like a prayer.”

I try to catch my breath as he towers over me.

“Scoot up.” He nods toward the headboard.

Slowly, he crawls over the top of me, still in his boxers, but they don’t leave a lot to the imagination. I swallow, glancing up at his hands as he secures one of my wrists then the other to the headboard.

“Your safe word is red.”

My heartbeat quickens, and I try to sit up. “Why do I need …”

---