Page 28 of Luck of the Draw

Still nothing. He tugged against the tie.Fuck. She must’ve been some kind of expert at tying knots. The fucking tie wouldn’t budge.

“Hey, Sk—”

Across the house, the front door opened and shut loudly.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Adrenaline surged through Brennan’s body. An instinctual response to danger. Panic-induced memories of places and situations he’d been in long ago attempted to surge out of the recesses of his mind. Things from his deployments that he’d buried deep enough that they never bothered him or disrupted his carefree life.

Maybe picking up random strangers who refused to tell him anything about who they were wasn’t the best idea after all. Because now he was tied to his own bed and couldn’t, for the life of him, loosen his own goddamned necktie.

He kept working the knot as best he could when suddenly, there was a slap against the mattress right next to his thigh.

His heartrate skyrocketed. “Holy shit…” He froze. “Skye, that better fucking be you.”

Another slap landed on the other side of his legs. He heard the distinctive jingle of his belt. He’d never been into S&M. He’d never understood the appeal. Pleasure did not come from pain. Physical pleasure was the antidote to soulish, emotional pain. Pleasure was how he treated the wounds in his heart that refused to heal. Pleasure for himself and pleasure for whomever his companion was. Pleasure came from calculated, focused, affectionate attention, and Brennan was an expert in all manner of pleasure.

And if he was about to get smacked with that belt…

Game over.

A feminine hand gently settled on his inner thigh and slowly stroked back and forth.

“Skye?”

The hand retracted. The room fell silent. After a moment, the tickle of light breathing painted his neck.

“Oh, Brennan. You don’t think I’d actually hurt you…” She softly kissed the spot below his earlobe. “Do you?”

“Fuck.” Relief emptied his lungs, and his pulse hammered in his ears. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Skye stroked her nails in circles across his bare chest, moving lower with each revolution. “And you like it.” She feathered her lips across his jaw. “Know how I can tell?”

He panted. “Let me guess.”

She bit his earlobe and then licked it. Lowering her voice to a husky, sultry tone, she murmured against the shell of his ear, “Your cock is so hard, Brennan. I hope that's how hard you intend to fuck me with it.”

This mysterious woman wasn’t here to fuck around. She came to fuck. Just like she just said.

Oh, did she have it coming.

Brennan’s breathing was too quick; too shallow. Light-headedness engulfed him. “You have a filthy fucking mouth, baby girl.”

“And you like that, too.” She nipped his neck. “I can do other things with it that I know you’ll love.”

Oh fuck yes.

Her hand wrapped around his rigid, aching shaft, and a low growl drained from his throat. She gave him a few long strokes before the mattress gave slightly under her inching down it.

The first time a woman had given Brennan head, he’d seen everything. It was the most mesmerizing thing he’d experienced up to that point, and it made him love watching every time anyone did it after that.

But this…

Not being able to see what she was doing…

---