Page 117 of The Devil's Scars

Zoe, not so much.

He walked around her, a slow circle, paused behind her. She tensed, longing and hoping for a touch.

“You brought the silk and lace from Denver,” he observed.

She fought the urge to respond, to nod. Did neither.

“Good girl,” he said. “It looks as beautiful on you as I remember.”

She flushed with pleasure, both at his words and his approval, and then she bit back a gasp when his large hands cupped her ass. Squeezing, testing, moulding. She ached to push back into his touch, but she didn’t move.

Turn to stone, Zoe, become a statue. Just. Don’t. Move.

Those amazing hands slipped between her thighs now, delicately, lightly, stroking her through the material. Her clit was pulsing, and she knew that he felt it. How could he not, with the throbbing being as strong and steady as a heartbeat?

“You’re soaked, baby,” he murmured. “Is that for me?”

Again, she resisted the urge to say yes, or to nod.

“I think it’s for me,” he said in a conversational tone.”I think this is all for me.”

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he lowered the panties down her hips, down her thighs, down her calves. He gently lifted her bare feet one at a time, pulled the delicate underwear off. Then he knelt between her legs, nudging her knees apart with his own, and leaned forward.

Zoe couldn’t stop her intake of breath when his tongue started to lap at her pussy, but he didn’t seem to object to that noise. The moans rose in her chest and throat, and she wrestled to not utter a single one –but the man was making it seriously difficult.

He was kneeling behind her, and he was worshiping her with his mouth. He was tasting her sweetness, devouring her like a starving man, feasting on her like she was a rare delicacy. He was enjoying her, rolling her clit between his lips, nibbling her pussy, holding her open with his thumbs so that not one inch of her sex was neglected, overlooked, missed.

She was trembling with the effort of trying not to cry out. That was when Scars lifted himself up and over her body, his hands braced on the floor beside hers, and she jolted when she realized that he was naked. He kissed the tattoo on her lower back, kissed his way up her spine, slowly and lazily, like he had nothing but time. She wanted to squirm, to rub against his burning erection… not moving was hell. He kissed her neck, her cheek, placed his lips next to her ear.

“Don’t you break position.”

She took a deep breath, released, sucked in another one when his hands moved to her bra now, undid it. It fell on the floor under her, and he left it there. His fingers caressed her breasts, then pinched her pink nipples. The sharp pleasure-pain made her whole body spasm, and he gave a low, heated laugh that drifted over her skin.

“You like that, huh? I think you have a bit of a thing for rough play, baby, and for taking orders.”

Another little pinch on her sensitive buds, then he was gone. She wanted to cry out and look around, but she stayed silent and still.

“Hands behind you, baby. On your lower back.”

Right away, without a thought, she did as he commanded. Her wrists were bound together with what felt like her silk and lace panties, and she was immediately, instantly, faint with lust.

He paused now, turned her face to his.

“Open your eyes, Zoe.”

She did, and she almost sobbed at all of that dark, almost violent desire that was written across his handsome, rugged face.

“Is this OK?” he said, tracing the panties around her wrists. “You feel OK?”

She was confused about if she was allowed to speak or move, so she stared at him, hoping that he saw the assent in her eyes. He smiled.

“I need to hear the words, baby. You can talk this one time… and then no more noise. Now… are you OK?”

“I’m totally OK,” she said. “I trust you.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He turned her around again, gripped both of her bound wrists in his one, massive hand, and pushed her forehead to the floor. He kept his hand on the back of her head, forcing her ass and hips higher in the air. “Don’t break position, and don’t talk.”

She was just about take a deep breath when suddenly, he was inside her, and her breath left her body. The hand on the back of her head was strong, insistent, powerful, the one gripping her wrists was commanding and dominant, and she was small and helpless under Scars. Unable to move or raise herself up; not allowed to move or talk.

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