Page 162 of Chalk Outline
“So…”
“Don’t ever call her a good girl again.”
“Never again,” I say with a shit-eating grin. “So be my good girl and touch the snake.”
A cute grin crosses her face, but it turns into a grimace when she looks at the snake again.
“You can always use your safe word,” I reassure her. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
I straighten up, my chest puffing with pride. Winona has slithered her way into the marrow of my being since the day I met her. I walk to the tree and turn the handle; the rope rolls as it lifts her to my liking, placing her at the perfect height.
Her pussy is at eye level with my face.
I unclip the holster from my pants and set it on the ground along with my thigh bag, then untie the mask strap from the waistband loop and chuck it next to them.
“You trust me. Let me hear you say it,” I order.
Taking a shaky breath, she opens her mouth to say, “I trust you.”
Now, we can start playing.
Chapter thirty-two
Winona Bishop
Never Enough — Black Atlass
Upside down, my heart still cavorts in excitement as I’m lifted inch by inch. Goosebumps prick my skin. My hardened nipples cut through the thin fabric of my sports bra. Electric shocks race down my neck, spine, and center, curling my toes and rushing back up.
Reeve peels his shirt over his head single-handedly and tosses it over his shoulder.
My greedy eyes trace along his biceps, drinking in the ink covering every inch of his skin as he returns from the tree. Beads of sweat gather in the sharp dips of his muscles as he paces leisurely, circling my ensnared body like prey.
I will never get enough of him.
My breath catches when I feel him looming closely behind me.
I feel less excited about not being able to seethat python snake, Mona.
He grabs my ankle, and my head snaps up to see what he’s doing. He yanks the ropes hanging from the hook that the net is attached to, securing my legs and spreading them farther apart.
I take short breaths as the pressure around my neck increases from all the blood rushing downward.
The chills in my body multiply as Reeve grabs the waistband of my jean shorts and tears the fabric in half with his knife. Then he tears off the remaining two pieces from my legs.
He eyes my soaked underwear, a wicked curl forming at the corner of his mouth. Without a second thought, he sticks his tongue out and swipes it over the middle section of my underwear—right over my slit.
Squirming against the restraints, I moan in pleasure.
“Always ready for me,” he growls through clenched teeth.
I spasm.
More of my thick arousal oozes out slowly, gathering between my thighs.
His knuckles feather my heated skin, venturing up and down my thighs. His warm breath brushes my flesh before his lips trail wet kisses along the inner side.
