Page 192 of Irreversible

“My time was cut short in the champagne room. You still owe me.”

A laugh bursts from her. “You got more in the champagne room than any patron could dream of. We’re even.”

“Ah, but you are no prostitute, Bee. And I’m no patron. You rode my cock because you wanted it. Now, whatIwant is to watch you take off your clothes. Slowly. Just for me.”

Her eyes spark with challenge.

I’ve never seen anything so entrancing as the way she slides her hands over her thighs and up her ribcage, pulling her shirt up with her. She teases me relentlessly while I lean back in the chair, jeans open, a raging hard-on protruding from the fly.

With an agonizingly slow rhythm, she removes every scrap of material, her body flowing through graceful dance moves like rippling water. For a few minutes, I let her tease me, torment me. Have her fun.

Damn, she’s good at this.

My fingers clench the arms in a death grip, and I imagine running my tongue over every inch of bare skin. By the time her dance is over, my mouth is watering for the taste of her.

I’m fucking ravenous.

Before she realizes I’ve left the chair, she’s off her feet.

Landing on the mattress with a soft bounce, she beckons me with a crooked finger as I strip off my jeans and boxers in one move.

“Come here.” The rasp in her voice sends a rush of blood to my groin, and she drops her head back, exposing her throat.

Propped on her elbows with her thighs spread wide, she gives me a view I wasn’t graced with yesterday during our frenzied fucking on the couch.

Sexy as hell.

But…

“Oh, no.” My strides are deliberately slow as I move around the side of the bed. Grabbing the belt, I drag it over her—from the apex of her thighs, over her taut stomach, and between her breasts. “I’m afraid that’s not how this works.”

Did she think that strip tease meant I’d let her stay in control? That was all for me.

“Really, Bee. You’ll learn.” I pinch a nipple between my fingers, hard.

Her breath catches. Goosebumps break out over her skin. And just like that, the power shifts back.

Her entire body shudders when I whisper, “Hands over your head.”

If I were better equipped, I’d have an array of handcuffs, ties, paddles, toys that would keep her edged until she begged for release. But for now, I wrap the belt around her wrists once again, attaching it to the bottom of the headboard.

She gives an obligatory tug at the binds, then turns her attention back to me, spreading her legs even wider.

Fuck, yes. It’s time to satisfy this hunger.

I start at her neck, feasting on the tender skin over her pulse point, then run my tongue along the curve of her collarbone and down to those luscious breasts.

And fuck, the way she says my name when I bite and lick and suck her nipples until they’re hard pink pebbles.

Finally, I move down, settling lower, where I take the time to inhale, brushing the insides of her thighs with the scruff of my beard. There’s nothing better than the scent of a woman’s arousal, and this one is an aphrodisiac made just for me.

“Yes.” She squirms under me, lifting her hips in search of my mouth. “Please.”

“Mmm, no. I don’t think you’re ready yet.” I back off.

She is, but I can’t resist teasing her when she’s tied and helpless like this. If she’s willing to give me this kind of control, I’ll be damned if I don’t make it worth every second.

The cry that leaves her is pure frustration. It sends a jolt through my groin. “Isaac—dammit.”

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